You stare at the black ink sparsing the letter-headed form before you and nod in disagreement – this should not be happening. No one doubted that you were meant to be – you never did too. He was yours until you foolishly let him slip through your fingers like quicksand. You remember how you ended it like some event that happened yesterday, and you regret it – how could you have let Grace and Hauwa get into your head?
“Bolaji, we need to talk,” you had said to him with feigned coldness on the phone.
You wagered he would burst into laughter and would have won big had you staked some cash on it. You knew him so well that he could not have disappointed even if he wanted to. The temptation to compliment his guffaw with your usual chuckle was strong, but you choked it. His laughter was one helluva trigger for more laughter – he once made you and your friends laugh your sister into silence.
You shook your head.
‘It is now or never’, you assured yourself.
“And what are we doing right now?” his mellifluous voice seeped into your ears, and you almost missed the words whilst reeling in the rhythm of their escape. They carried remnants of his laughter, and that irritated you. You were mum, and he immediately realised he had been insensitive – how could he not have discerned the façade of urgency veiling your voice?
“Hey!” he called with calculated composure. The rue in his voice tingled your eardrums, and you grinned – your acting skills were not as bad as you had thought.
“Hey!” you returned, your voice colder than it was at first.
It worried him, and you could feel it – you were happy because that was what you wanted to happen anyway.
“I’ll come over before my lectures tomorrow,”
“Okay, goodbye.” you cut him off and hung up before he could say another word.
As you carted your eyes off the phone, you met approving gazes, yet guilt lurked at the corners of your heart. You could not believe you were going to test your boyfriend’s love for you. You were certain he would pass the test, but something inside of you did not sit right with the ‘fool-proof’ plan.
For most of the night, you were awake. Your mind became the Third Mainland Bridge as heavy vehicles of thought peregrinated it. You shed a few tears lest Bolaji failed the test but later dismissed the chance of it happening. He always reminded you of how much love he had for you and how much you matched the description of the perfect mother for his boys – ‘except that you are short-tempered and a tad brutal with words’ – as he once said whilst scanning your face like a child counting the stars, half-serious. You knew he meant every word and had swallowed the message, hook, line, and sinker, restraining your temper and tongue whenever you could.
to be continued…
What foolproof do you think Fatima has for Bolaji?
Do you think he will pass the test?
What else do you think?
The comment box is all yours, let us read all of your thoughts!
P.S: This work is purely fictional. Any semblance to real persons (living or dead), places, or events are merely figments of the writer’s attempt at keeping in touch with reality.
Hasta la Vista!