The Irony of Life (13)😔😔

THE IRONY OF LIFE (13)😔😔

Duration: 4mins

By 7:30 p.m. that Thursday, Ore stood by a junction leading to the bus terminus nearest to Mame African Cuisine. It was cold and freezing his breath let out mist. With a brown pullover Jacket that covered his upper body save his face, and his pale, numb hands tucked in his pockets, his two keen eyes watched passersby go by. He was on the look out for a dark lady in green turtleneck sweater on jeans. Like a detective out to make an arrest, there was no missing or mistaken his target. His informant had told him she had left her location. That was about an hour ago. Even if she adopted the millipede move, she should have long dragged by. 

Restless, he went for his phone and was about putting a call through to Fatima again when the person in question walked by. 

Cecilia was beautiful as always. She looked fresh in her light make up as though she had just set out for the day. Unlike other times, she wasn’t in a hurry. 

“Hello,” a voice called from behind as she stepped on a sidewalk leading to the terminus.

“Yes?”

“Good evening. Remember me?”

“Have we met before?”

Just a five days ago, considering the incidence that surrounded their encounter, Ore didn’t expect she would have forgotten. He was about refreshing her memory when she said, 

“You? Mr. Oreoluwa, right?”

Ore's invisible self bounded onto the street, did a backflip, pumped a fist into the air, 

“Yes! she remembered me, even called my name.” 

He screamed as he ran from one end of the road to another.

Since he arrived the states, no one ever pronounced his name with such accuracy. Cecilia was as exact as when he was christened.

“The other time, I forgot to ask for your name.”

“I’m Ceci, Cecilia Jones." "Here doesn’t look like Mame, or did you miss your way this time around?” she added.

“It does, dear. In and out of Mame, you are all I see and think about, so what’s the difference?”

“How funny?” said Cecilia with a faint smile.

“Ceci, you don’t seem to get it. Right? I'm dying.”

“Dying?”

“For your love.”

“Mr. Oreoluwa, you should go into comedy. I thought it was something serious.”

“Is seeing you in my sleep, in my imagination, inability to focus on nothing else but you not serious?”

“Then you should see a psychologist.”

“I’m doing that at the moment. How about we discuss my situation over lunch tomorrow?”

“I don’t do lunch”

“What about dinner?”

“I don’t do that either.”

“Let me have your contact then,” said Ore, fetching his phone from his pocket. “Being able to hear your voice at will should keep my condition from worsening.”

“Mr. Oreoluwa, please come off it. You men are bad news. I am not into men.”

“I will have a sex change then.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Cecilia, laughing out loud this time.

Ore was still trying to come up with something that could make her consider him when she flagged down a taxi.

“It was a pleasure meeting, ” she managed to say before hopping in.

His eyes glued to the rear of the vehicle till it zoomed out of sight.

After all, she isn’t rude as Jamani portrayed her to be.

He wondered the reason behind her statement ‘not being into men’ as he phoned Fatima who was waiting to know how it went between them.

“Ceci is only proving hard-to-get which is typical of we ladies,” she said and encouraged him not to give up the chase. 

Give up? Far from it. That was just a warm up.

About the same time the next day, he was stationed a bit farther away from the previous spot. Having gotten the necessary info, he was certain Cecilia would show up anytime soon. True to his prediction, he had barely spent twenty minutes waiting when he saw her straight ahead. Heaving a deep breath, he stepped onto her lane and approached.

“Again?” he exclaimed on getting at an arms-length distance from her. “what a coincidence?”

“Indeed. stalking is an offense punishable by law.”

“Stalking you? No I wasn’t.”

She sent him a questioning gaze.

“I swear on my father’s grave,” he had blurted before he remembered Mr. Oguntifiditimi was home, alive and kicking.

“In that case, leave my way.”

“C'mon Ceci, please don’t be like this. All I ask is to be your friend.”

“I thought we've been over this? Read my lips, we can’t be friends nor can I have anything to do with you. How clearer can that be?”

She stepped away from him and went her way.

                 

                                  ***

Work at the factory would have been one to look forward to, but who anticipates a job whose pay goes to another? 

Unlike others, Ore was lucky to have a side hustle that puts some dollars in his pocket. 

He was off to the factory one night when he sensed an imminent trouble. Call it superstition, old wives tale or whatever—when Ore strikes his left foot against a stone, it is a bad sign. 

On stepping into the factory, he was about moving his first crate for the night when Thaddy’s voice stopped him in his track, 

“Hey Kiddo, see me in my office right away.”

Thaddy did that whenever he needed to share something confidential. But this time, it all felt wrong.

He shut Thaddy's door, turned to see a neatly folded A4 paper stretched at him.

“Your service is no longer needed here.”

What!

His brain was yet to process that when Thaddy dropped another bombshell.

“Hence, your contract with Mrs. Penelope is terminated.”

Ore stood dumbstruck. In a moment’s pause, his heart switched into a stopwatch with milliseconds tick chiming the wall of his chest. There was sharp, continuous ache at the back of his head. Thaddy had better say something before he dropped dead.

‘I warned you. Didn’t I?’ was all he got out when a bang at his door broke in.

Ore stirred awoke.

                                  ***

Still, the bang continued, louder this time. It was coming from the passage that led to the female’s side of the house.

“Monica, open this goddamn door.”

Whatever Steve wanted with Monica, everyone wondered why he would come breaking into their sleep in the early hours of five on a Sunday.

“Open up you b*t*h. Is he in there with you?”

“Who? Stevey,” ask Monica as she obliged him.

“Don’t Stevey me. Tell me is not you in this video.”

Ore froze in-between a yawn and a stretch, his eyes caught Jamani's who was a blend of fury and anxiety. The future looked bleak.

The dream!

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To be continued same time, next week. Hope you enjoyed the read? Please leave acomment. Thank you.🙏🏻