"Where are
you coming from, Greg?" My Mum barked. It was past 9 p.m. My Dad was
sprawled on the sofa watching the Network news. He pretended not to know me, he
adjusted his glasses. Mum stood in front of me, I had grown taller than her so
she had to tilt her head upwards to look at my face. She didn't let me move
further from the threshold– she was ready to throw me out. "I said where
are you coming from?" she rang again. This time her voice seemed to summon
evil spirits; I could hear the crickets' chirping outside intensify. Her gaze
was now on my school uniform. I felt thin and flexible; my mother was going to
break me. " I went to watch football." I stammered. I knew Mum could
tell I was lying. I hated lying to her. But now, the truth was choking, capable
of strangling me.
*************
After school
that afternoon, I had gone to my girlfriend's house : Cynthia invited me over
after our Math teacher left the class and rowdiness gradually permeated
solitude. "My parents have travelled, you're coming to my place
today." Her voice was tender, like something edible. After that, every
other event that took place in class was passive, I took notes perfunctorily.
My mind travelled to a self-constructed future, where Cynthia and I lived in a
tower with so many babies such that we lost count. My best friend , Chuks,
talked effusively about something– I can barely remember what exactly , I think
it had something to do with Cristiano Ronaldo, or Messi, or both. After the
closing bell was rung, Cynthia walked up to me and whispered as a reminder, "I'm
waiting". Then she strutted out of the class, her every movement gracious
like that of a tiger. Her body was perfectly molded with titillating details.
She had the kind of features one could only find in a comic book . I felt my
body shiver. Everyone had left the class now. It was just Chuks and me left.
"Do you intend to sleep here?" Chuks asked playfully.
He had gaped
teeth and somehow his smile made him look like a rabbit. "I'm going to
Cynthia's" , I said glumly, sounding like I was confessing my sins. Chuks
frowned. He didn't approve of my relationship with Cynthia. He had told me she
was a bad girl. "She will spoil you." He had stressed 'spoil you'
like I could easily transmute into stale food within the blinking of an eye.
But all his dissuasion fell to deaf ears. I loved Cynthia, especially after she
had pecked my cheek in the library. No one had seen us–maybe someone did. But I
practically didn't care, because in that fleeting moment when I felt the
softness of her lips against my cheeks I had a feeling akin to satisfaction and
sheer accomplishment. I felt aloft. I think I saw butterflies. Yes, I believe I
did. "What's going to be happening in her house?" Chuks asked quite
aggressively. His voice had acquired a suspicious tone.His big bag strapped to
his back made his shoulders slouch. He was yellow, like the coat of our
classroom wall. "She is my girlfriend, Chukwuma!" I stated
emotionally, sounding like I was acting a movie.
I completed his
abridged name to indicate seriousness. "Alright, Greg, suit
yourself!" Chuks announced. "Lets get going." Outside the school
gate, the way to Chuks' house was to the left, mine was to the right. And even
now, Cynthia's house, my proposed destination, was to the right as well. But we
cherished the short walk together from our class to the gate. It was a crucial
part of our friendship. I slung my bag over my shoulder and we trudged out of
the class. We joined the crowd leaving school , most of them elated, like we
had all just been freed from prison. Abruptly, two junior students began to
fight. The one flung a clenched fist, the other ducked and built a stance.
Bodies built a ring around them. The school cheered. We walked past them; we
couldn't be bothered. Outside, I threw Chuks a friendly punch. He smiled "Such
impudence!"
He had a knack
for using complex words. "Be careful with the girlfriend." He
advised. "Yes boss!" I saluted. Soon , we had our backs to each other
going our separate ways. As I left, I wondered why Chuks despised Cynthia such.
As far as I was concerned, the girl was harmless. There was nothing to be
cautious about. I increased my pace. I wished I could just teleport. The short
distance to her house seemed stretched. I didn't want to keep her waiting, lest
she get upset and stop talking to me. She stopped talking to me If I spent too
much time with other girls in class – her definition of too much time was about
30 seconds or thereabout, whereupon she would snub me for three days. If I was
lucky, the three days fell on a weekend, if I wasn't, it was protracted for a
week. I didn't want that, so I began to jug, I ran, then I sprinted.
**********
Soon , I was at
Cynthia's gate sweating and panting like I has just eroded murderers. Cynthia
opened the gate as soon as I knocked. She bolted it as soon as I had entered
the compound. The compound was beautiful. There were cars everywhere. The
bungalow was painted coffee. It looked like a seated fox. "Why are you
sweating?" Cynthia asked . She didn't allow me to answer.
"What
matters is that you are here." She pulled my hand and frogmarched me into
her house. I had a haunch that her parents would come out of the photographs on
their parlour wall and deal with me mercilessly. "Come on, Greg",
Cynthia whispered impatiently "stop fidgeting." I was now in her room.
She sat on the bed, I stood next to the door. "Greg, take off your
clothes. All of them!"
_________________________________________________________________________________
Author: Freddie
Betse, A creative guest writer on Ikpaiju's blog. He is a Mass communication
student, studying at NTA Television college, Jos.. an affiliate of Ahmadu Bello
University, Zaria.
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