The Irony of Life(16) 😔😔

THE IRONY OF LIFE (16)😔😔

Duration: 4mins

 The D-Day finally arrived. Back in Agbómábiwón, Valentine's day was like any other day. No one recognized it not to mention celebrated it. Oreoluwa would probably not have known of it if he hadn’t read about it in novels. He was blown by how seriously the day was being celebrated in the States. People painted the streets in their combination of pink, red and white outfits. Every corner he turned were heart-shaped cakes, greeting cards and all kinds of gift items. 

                                                                          He walked into a florist’s shop that Wednesday afternoon and was overwhelmed not only by the countless patrons streaming in and out to no end, but by the million and one bouquets that screamed at him to be picked. He ignored the expensive ones and paid attention to those with giveaway price tags. After looking for a while, he settled for one of $10. Two shops away was a supermarket. He branched in for Daisy, Cecilia’s taste.

                                                  How impressed she would feel.

                                    

He imagined as he got the bottle of perfume wrapped, boarded a taxi to Mame African Cuisine (MAC). That was at the quarter of three. He had never seen the place so occupied. All the tables were taken by couples he was lucky to find a lonely seat at the far end. 

                             

Just then, a black young man in his mid-twenties went on a knee before a beautiful lady of about his age, stretched a small red box revealing a silver ring. Everywhere went 'wow' as the guy got a 'yes', followed by a kiss. 

                                        

Love was in the air, putting Ore in the mood. He drifted in and out of his fantasy, where he and Cecilia switched place with the newly engaged. Looking around, his dream girl was nowhere to be found.

Oh God

Could it be she is not on duty?

What if she took the day off?

                        

Another voice within broke in,

                            

Hey loverboy, didn’t I tell you to quit wasting your time on CeCe? If you had listened to me, your money would be still be safe in your pocket. If at all you have a chance, not today. No date no date lalalala-lala-la

“Some lovely flowers you've got there. I bet she will like them.”

                               

Ore turned to his blind side and there was Fatima. For the first time, he was seeing her join her mother’s service girls in attending to patrons that kept turning in.

                         

 “Thank you.” “where is she?” he added in a whisper.

                                 

“I saw her headed to the ladies a while ago. What will you like to take?”

                            

 “I’m so famished right now I could finish a pot of those,” he responded, gesturing at two plates of ofada rice seated in a tray Fatima was carrying. “Yet I don’t have a space to contain as little as a spoon.”

                                  

“I understand,” said Fatima with a faint smile. “She should be out any time soon. Good luck.”

                          

“Thank you.”

                           

What girl wouldn’t want to be with her man on a day as this?

                                  

In a brief, sorry moment, Ore wished Fatima was also getting something from Jamani.

                             

Just as she said, in less than a minute, CeCe walked in looking as though she stepped out of the cover of Glam & Dazzle magazine, dressed in a red, glittering, sleeveless gown that accentuated her curves, and a complimenting black heels that shot her few inches high. 

                           There was a moment of silence, not for the dead this time around, but for a passing beauty that got heads turning in degrees, and many jaws that had suddenly lost their elasticity, fallen.

                             

“Off I go,” CeCe informed her boss.

                          

 “Enjoy your date. Make sure you resume earlier tomorrow,” responded Mame. “You rock girl!” she added as CeCe took her leave.

                                 

It all felt like a trance in Ore's face as she cat-walked towards a fortyish man in a sleek black suit standing by the entrance. With locked elbows, the two walked out of sight. 

                  

Fatima hastened over.

                         

 “What just happened?” “Oh no, all along while the man was seated over there, I never knew he was waiting for CeCe.” 

                                 

It was as though Fatima was talking to herself. Ore kept a straight face, staring blank into thin air, almost losing grip of the bouquet he held. Fatima noticed an empty table at a nearby corner and suggested they move there. Ore did as was told. Thank goodness she didn’t suggest he walked out and jump before a moving vehicle. 

                          

Fatima left and returned almost immediately, placing four long cups of chilled coffee before him. As though saying, ‘Drink away your sorrow'. 

If she had brought a dozen, it wouldn’t do. He downed the first cup, and was soon staring at the base of the fourth.

                             

“Ore, I never knew things would turn out this way. I am sorry.”

                          

Then, Ore found his voice. 'It's alright' was the best he could let out. His pitiable eyes gazed unblinking at the flowers and gift before him.

                                  

“I have an idea.”

                               

Ore shifted his gaze in Fatima's direction, wondering what hope was left.

                           

“What about I deliver the gifts on your behalf, give her your phone number in the process? Courtesy demands she at least put a call of appreciation through From there, things could pick between you two.”

                                 

Of what use was a bouquet and a feminine perfume to Ore? He could as well dump them in a trash bin on his way home. Without uttering a word, he slid them across the table to Fatima, rose to his feet and left with a slouched back as though he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders.

                            

                              ***

Work at Mrs. Penelope’s place had been all well and good except that she either took Oreoluwa for a eunuch, or a mannequin. The fiftyish woman looking thirty was fond of going about in cropped, skimpy wears that bare her cleavages or just in a see-through robe that left just little to the imagination.

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To be continued same time, next week. Hope you enjoyed the read? Please leave a comment. Thank you