THE CHAT ROOM : PART 11 – 20
PART 13
By Temi Akintade
I glared at the new message in my Facebook messenger. A loud hiss rolled out of my mouth. The sender must be a boy because he had called me beautiful and that he would like to have my number.
Knowing that this was how I met Tayo, I withdrew and deleted the message. My hand found its way to my bulky stomach again, protecting it as a mother hen does to her eggs.
“I would teach my child that men on Facebook have no love to offer. They simply steal your innocence and leave you empty.” I blurted.
I was in Frank’s office, waiting for him to take me to his fellowship outside the campus.
He said it was in Kubwa. I should have said no but I didn’t have that gnawing feeling like the way I use to whenever I was with Tayo.
He looked up from the dog-eared book placed on the huge brown table in front of him.
I remembered how he fought tooth and nail over this table claiming that it was his governmental right as a citizen of the federal republic, and a lecturer in the college of education, to at least own a furnished table in his office.
The one he was using was almost chipping off. There was a day, he discovered termites beneath the old table.
That was what fuelled the anger that pushed him into fighting for a new table. “I’m glad you learned your lesson.
There are different kinds of love. But teenagers do not know this. They think that love is all about emotions they do not know that emotions can be false.”
I touched my stomach again. As though wishing that my child was attentive to what Frank was saying.
“Have you told your mother about this?” He closed the book and relaxed into the chair.
I swallowed. Telling my mother about my current situation was the last thing on my mind now. “I haven’t told her. I don’t know how to. Will you help me?”
Frank released a short laugh. “Why should I tell her when I’m not the owner of the baby in your womb?” His gaze was fierce like he was mad at me.
“I’m sorry I asked. I will face her alone.” Shame washed over me like rain.
None of us said a word until we climbed into his car. He asked me to buckle my seat belt but I stretched the seat belt to no avail.
Then he broke into a burst of derisive laughter. “Do you not know how to buckle a seat belt?” Then he stretched over me to help in fixing the seat belt.
I stifled a smile and tried to ignore the soft fragrance of his cologne. I wanted to ask if it was the same perfume I have always known him with or another.
“Did you get a new perfume?” My eyes stayed on the dusty road as Frank swiftly maneuvered his car skillfully like an experienced hunter who knew his way around the bush.
“Oh!” His lips tugged into a small smile. “A friend of mine who schools in London sent it to me.”
I threw a curious look at him. He had a goofy smile and I felt like wiping it off his face. Why was he smiling anyway? “The person sold it to you or sent it as a gift?”
“Sold? Ah!” He rubbed the little hair that was starting to form on his jaw.
I once told him that he had a bald jaw. But I don’t think that will be true anymore. “Debra can never sell anything to me.
Last month she sent me a silver-plated wristwatch now it’s a 1984 Paris collection perfume. It’s all a gift, Paulina.” He resumed his driving, with his eyes on the road.
I said no more because my mind was occupied with this new intruder. Debra. Who was she to him? Just a friend or more than a friend? Does Debra know about me?
All these thoughts raced through my mind as I began to paint imaginary pictures about her.
I imagined her to be tall and slim and light-skinned with long wavy hair and with lips as thick as a banana.
I wondered if she spoke through her nose like those white people I saw in the movies.
Maybe she was a white woman or even a half-caste. Bose once told me of how Nigerian men preferred white women. Maybe I should ask Frank if-
“We’re here! You won’t regret your time in God’s presence I promise.” Frank intruded my thoughts.
“Okay.” I unbuckled the seatbelt and waded out of the car.
I was greeted by a large crowd of people dressed in a blue T-shirt with the inscription of ‘The Holy Spirit or nothing!’ Girls and boys around my age and a little older than me swarmed in and out of the building.
I felt vulnerable in my short gown all of a sudden almost as if they could see through me and see the baby growing inside my womb.
I didn’t realize that my hands were shaking until Frank wove his warm fingers with mine.
“You will feel at home here. No one judges anyone here.” Frank whispered into my ear.
I nodded and took shaky steps into the large auditorium where hundreds of other young people were seated.
“You are welcome ma!” The ushers at the door flashed their immaculate white teeth at me and the trembling I was feeling stopped. Frank was right. This place was home.
The other officials greeted Frank and Frank introduced me as his friend to them.
We walked in, and Frank got me a space to sit at the front row where the choristers were practicing and doing their voice training.
“The service will soon begin. Enjoy your time in God’s presence.
I won’t be seating with you because I’m an usher too.” He squeezed my hand and left.
Not that I expected more from Frank but shifted away from the thought of liking him from my mind before it starts to bud. Perhaps I could learn something better than Frank and Tayo tonight.
Soon the lights came on, and a thin lady dressed in a pink dress and black sneakers walked up the stage and began to speak into the microphone.
Her sonorous voice began to send cold chills down my spine the second she said, “Hallelujah!”
THE CHAT ROOM : PART 11 – 20
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