Always Yours (Lagos Romance Series) (5 page)

I wondered if I should tell her about Michael, she had met and liked him back when I was in school. She’d often asked me about him after he graduated, only stopping when she figured out I didn’t want to talk about him. She’d once accused me of throwing my friends away and I knew she had been talking about Michael. I decided that with my mind already in such a state of turmoil about him, I probably shouldn’t bring him up.

“When are you leaving?” She asked me, when our interview seemed to be completed.

“Around 5” I replied.

“Okay, let me allow you sleep” she said getting up to leave.

I nodded.

Later I sat in the living room and watched TV with my parents, while my brother and sister remained upstairs in their rooms. My father wanted to know how the magazine was doing and what my plans were for the future. My mother informed me that my older brother Dan’s wife was pregnant.

“Yay!”
I exclaimed. I jumped up to give them both a kiss. “Grandpapa and grandmamma” I teased.

“He called and told us this morning.” My mother informed me. I knew she was wishing that I too were married and about to give her a grandchild. I gave her a reassuring smile.

Soon it was time to leave. My mum helped me load my car full of all the food she had prepared for me.

“Drive carefully” she said. “And don’t let it be too long till you come again.”

On the drive back to the island, I thought about my mother and her desire for me to get married. Parents always seemed to want something for their children, and ever since I graduated from university it had been marriage. I hated to disappoint her but there was only one person I wanted to marry. I couldn’t have him, so what was I going to do?

Speaking of Michael, I noticed his car in the parking lot as soon as I drove into my compound. I tried to fight the
excitement building in my belly. I parked, feeling weak at the thought of seeing him, why did he persist in torturing me like this? I wondered. I couldn’t bear it.

He was coming down the stairs as I started to climb them, his tall lithe frame taking the stairs two at a time. He stopped when he saw me. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves.
“Hi Michael.”
I said
,
it came out as a whisper.

“Hi Sophie” He replied, and smiled.

How could a smile reduce me to such a mess? I was tempted to go to him and put my arms around him. Is it part of love for women to become weak and foolish? I wondered. I took another deep breath.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

He sighed “I feel really foolish” he said, shaking his head. He walked down to where I was standing and took the packages I was carrying from me. “I have to go to Abuja tomorrow” He continued. “I thought I’d pop in and let you know”

“I’m sorry” I said. “I went to my parent’s.”

He nodded as I opened the door to my flat “Have you been waiting long?” I asked.

“Not really” he grimaced. “At least not this time”

“This time?”
I asked.

Michael nodded, actually looking shy. “It’s the third time I’ve been here today”

I giggled. “Sorry” I said, still smiling as we stuffed my mum’s packages into the freezer. “Is that why you’re feeling foolish?”

He nodded.
“Part of it.”
He said. “May I have your phone?” He asked when we were done.

I gave it to him and watched as he went to stand by the living room window.

“What are you doing” I asked going to sit on the couch.

“Becoming one of your contacts.” he said. Not taking his eyes off the phone.
“And making you one of mine, on BB, in your phone book, etc.
I’m putting myself on your speed dial”

“I don’t do speed dial” I laughed “and you could have just asked for my number.”

“I know!” He exclaimed. “That’s why I felt so foolish standing outside your door knocking when I could have just called you.” He shook his head. “I’ve just been too busy looking into your eyes to ask.”

And giving me fleeting kisses on my lips, I added silently. I felt suddenly shy but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I wondered if he could see the desire in my eyes. If it was obvious to him that all he had to do now was touch
me, and I would have neither the will power nor even the desire to resist him. Maybe he knew, maybe that was why he was standing so far away, as far as was possible in the confined space that was my living room. I swallowed and spent the next few minutes studying my shaking fingers.

“I’ll be back from Abuja on Wednesday.” He said.

I nodded.

He walked over and gave me my phone. “I will call you every day.”

I nodded again, not trusting myself to speak, taking pleasure in the promise and yet knowing that I had no right to it.

For a moment it seemed as if he would join me on the couch and take me in his arms. And I would have let him, that’s the
truth,
I would have let him do anything he wanted.

“I should be going.” He said finally, turning towards the door.

I got up.

“See you when I get back” he said.

“See you” I whispered.

He kissed me, softly, on my cheek. I sighed and leaned closer to him. And then I couldn’t think anymore because his arms were around me and he was kissing me like he would never stop.

Nothing could have stopped me either. I felt as if my heart would burst. His hands were
everywhere,
setting me on fire as they drew me closer to him and making me burn with pleasure from the tips of my fingers to my toes.

I could hear blood rushing in my head, and out of my head. I could feel his heart beating under my fingers on his chest. In those moments the whole world began and ended with his lips on mine and his hands on my body.

And then he stopped.

It took me a while to realise that he was drawing away. I frowned, trying to understand what was happening.

“I should go” he said. His voice was rough.

“Yes.” I said dumbly “you should.”

He opened the door.

“I don’t think we should keep seeing each other” I said, with all the strength I could muster in my voice.

He turned to look at me, his fingers still on the door knob. He didn’t say anything, and after a few moments I had to I look away from the questioning look in his eyes.

Do I have to explain myself? I thought. Wasn’t it obvious that there was no way our ‘platonic friendship’ was going to survive this onslaught of our attraction for each other?

“I don’t think we should keep on seeing each other.” I repeated, more to myself than to him. “Obviously it’s not working.” I looked for acknowledgement in his face.

“I think you’re wrong.” He said finally. “I don’t think there is any reason why we should stop seeing each other”

How about just now? I screamed internally. Was he going to pretend that he didn’t know what was happening? What did he want? Did I have to tell him exactly what it was I was feeling? What was his problem? All the years of distrust of men that had been drummed into me by popular culture stated to resurface. I took a deep breath.

“You just kissed me, Michael!” I said heatedly. “And not as a friend” I sighed. “Maybe when you get home to your fiancée you can ask her how she feels about that!”

I closed the door on his hurt expression. I felt drained. I heard his footsteps as he walked away. I felt like running after him to tell him I was sorry, to drag him back to my flat and never let him leave again. I was so confused. Remember he’s engaged, I whispered to myself. He is engaged.

It took all of my strength not to cry myself to sleep.

By 6am on Monday morning I was already at the office. I hadn’t slept much the night before, not with all the raging emotions Michael had left running through me. At about five in the morning I finally got tired of tossing and turning and started preparing for work.

Driving to work from Victoria Island to Lagos Island was as smooth as no man’s business. For a moment I thought of all those people on the mainland who would already be facing heavy traffic in those early hours and sighed. As Ada would say, it was all
Babangida’s
fault.

Fortunately, there was power at the office, I was so relieved. The power generators didn’t come on till 6.30 am, power or no power, and I hated waiting in the darkness and heat for the facility managers to put them on. Once inside, I switched on the lights and the AC’s and started arranging my desk and planning my day.

Courtesy of Ada’s hard work, the layout for the coming edition was lying on my desk, printed sometime during the weekend. Because we published every week we had to work very far ahead of time, only making room for last minute changes occasioned by important events, high profile stories and occasional gems rescued from the slush pile.

I spread the layout in front of me and started to read, making corrections with a red pen. Oliver, our youth
corper
cum features writer would make the corrections when he came in. He was serving with one of the state government offices, but he only ever went there once in a month for his clearance and allowance.

I used a red marker to draw arrows indicating how the pages should be rearranged and struck out some of the pictures. I read through all the articles, smiling at a humorous review I’d done on a new Chinese restaurant in V.I and the book recommendations written by
Fadeke
, our youngest staff who was still waiting for her call-up letter. I was still going through the pages when Ada poked her head through the door into my office at about 7.30am.

“You’ve seen the layout?” She asked without preamble.

“
Hmmn
mmn
” I looked up at her. “I’m going through it right now,”

“Ok.” She moved into the office, today she had combed out her long natural hair and held it back with a multi-coloured hair band. It looked kind of like a backward pointing, gently swaying afro. Combined with black jeans and a black t-shirt with a big green ‘
irepnaija
’ logo, she looked like a theatre-arts student, or some other pseudo artistic type.

“I didn’t know we were supposed to dress up like
Wole
Soyinka today?” I said smiling. “I’d have worn my tie and die dashiki”

“Very funny.”
She laughed planting herself on one of the other chair in my office. “So anybody with
natchi
hair is trying to be
Wole
Soyinka”. She rolled her eyes.

“Don’t mind me.” I said reassuringly. “You look great.”

“So are you okay with the layout?” She asked seriously, Ada was nothing if not extremely conscientious about her work.

“I’ve been making a few changes” I replied. She leaned in as I showed her my
markups
. I talked and she nodded as I explained my changes and the reasons for them.

“Can I take it now and make the changes?” She asked, hyper as usual.

I sighed. “Let me give you the first ten pages, while I finish looking at the other ones.”

She nodded. “Okay.” She said. “ PS I think Oliver might have something to add to this edition, he called me on Sunday and was saying something about adding a review of a new play at
Terraculture
, and something about a show he had been to on Saturday at the beach.”

“At the beach?”
I asked.

“Yeah” she nodded. “Alpha beach, apparently there’s this place where up and coming artists perform to a smallish audience.”

“Okay” I said. “But it should be a very short write-up with just one picture, nobody is interested in seeing lots of pictures of performers they don’t know, it should be a small story, just enough to encourage people to stop by the next time they’re around there.”

“Aye Captain.”

I gave her a look, she smiled and picked up the sheets on my table, she turned to go,
then
seemed to change her mind. “So what happened on Friday?” she asked innocently.

“Hah!” I smirked. “You’ve been dying to ask that question since you came in”

“Actually I have been dying to ask all weekend.” She came back and sat on the chair she had just vacated. “And I’m sure you’re dying to tell me”

“I am.” I said nodding.

“
Oya
now” she prompted girlishly. “What are you waiting for?”

I sighed. “The gist get as e be o!” I said.

“How?”
Ada asked.

“He is engaged” I told her.

“To somebody else?” she asked. Her voice rising.

“
Er
, no, to me.”
I said sarcastically. “We clapped eyes on each other and he gave me the ring he has been carrying around in his pocket since he last saw me”

“Seriously, he’s engaged?” Ada said, ignoring my sarcasm. She shook her head. “Nobody ever plays the romantic part I write for them in my head”