My life moved from frypan to fire when I finally said yes to Innocent. He didn’t ask me out the conventional way. There were no rose petals anywhere flowers or wine to celebrate. No ‘Will You Marry Me?’ signage. In fact right now, instead of my families smiling at me and clapping, cheering me on to say yes. They are actually looking at me with disdain and disappointment.
If I knew I wouldn’t have agreed to this whole marriage plan. I think the issue was because Innocent never asked me to marry him. He was forced to marry me. I was also forced to marry him. I thought marriage was the solution to my life’s issues. But omo, I was so wrong.
I got pregnant at the age of 16. I had just finished secondary school, written my waec with flying colors. I had 2 As and 4 Bs and 2Cs, had 240 in Jamb, and processing my admission. It was a big deal in my family. Being the firstborn in my family, I had made my mother proud. In fact, my mother and siblings could not wait to see me graduate and deliver my family from the clutches of poverty.
My mother would often say, “Just graduate well my daughter, so that you can sponsor your sibling’s education.’ That was the plan.
I have 3 younger siblings, a dead father, and a mother who’s alive. Papa died when I was only 10 and since then, mama has been forced to become the breadwinner of the family. We the children also support her as much as we can even though I hated hawking but I had no option, we had to survive.
I met Innocent one day while hawking. He was the first ever guy to show interest in me. He lived in an upstairs house. On this faithful day, I passed by his house hawking orange. It was a street I was very familiar with but very far from our own street. I heard someone whistling. So, I lifted my face. Lo and behold I was greeted by a fair lanky guy.
“You wan buy orange?” I shouted so he could hear me well considering the fact that he was upstairs.
“Yes, I dey come.”
I walked towards the black gate of the house. In a minute, the gate swung open.
“How much na your orange?”
“#50 per one.”
“E too cost. How much last?”
“Na the last price be dat. E sweet well well.”
“You mean like you?” He switched to proper English. His diction was smooth. I had to take a second look at him. It shouldn’t have surprised me, considering that he was living in a very big house. But, still, I was surprised.
I flushed, feeling embarrassed. I quickly averted my face away from his gaze. “I was tempted to ask if I was truly sweet. No one had ever told me that I was sweet. Infact, back in secondary school, I was very quiet and didn’t quite get the attention of my classmates or teachers. I was always in the background.
“And beautiful too. Omalicha.”
This time around I smiled. A really fat one.
“I notice you every day. What’s your name? Where do you stay?”
“My name is Ewa,” I answered shyly and then went on, and told him where my street was located. He nodded. I don’t know if he got my description. All the same, he sha smiled back.
I stopped in my tracks.
“Omalicha means beauty.” Mr Chibuzor my neighbour who lived just opposite our one-room apartment explained to me yesterday night. There was no phone to Google it. My mum uses these small phones that have little or no function. Well, if you remove the fact that it enables her to make and receive calls and then, it had two games. I mean without any iota of pride, no one can combat with me as regards the games– snake and brick.
I smiled or better still I blushed. Mr Chibuzor took a long look at me with suspicion written all over his features. I quickly frowned and was about to fly from the passage into our room. When he called me back. “Why did you ask?”
I scratched my neck. I was caught off guard. I hadn’t expected the question. But trust me, I replied. “I heard it from a friend and then I was curious about it. She wouldn’t tell me the meaning. That’s why I asked from you, sir.” I ensured I stressed the sir. Mr. Chibuzor was a man who loved people greeting him and ensuring you added sir to it. Or else you’re in soup. So, I sha lied the half-truth.
He peered at me, his eyes glasses perching on the bridge of his nose. “I know you know you are a fine girl. Don’t let any yeye boy deceive you. If you do not pity yourself, pity your mother. Pity your siblings. HIV is real, pregnancy is real. Flee all youthful lust. That’s what the bible says.”
I nodded and thanked him ensuring I added the sir again.
Well, he was a bit wrong. I didn’t know I was fine. Looking at it from this angle, I remember a day back in secondary school when one of my teachers was rating the beauty of the girls in my class. It mattered to me because we called him Mr. Prince Charming. He was really handsome. Out of 25 students, he rated me 24th.
So, I didn’t think I was fine not to talk about being beautiful. But, here was a totally handsome stranger who didn’t know me and had called me beautiful. And now, Mr. Chibuzor just affirmed that I was beautiful. Someone had to be lying. So, I would take a long look in the mirror at every chance that I got and ensure that I was not caught by my mum. Even with my natural hair packed in a shuku, my flawless fair skin(thanks to the new body cream mum bought recently for me. She didn’t say why she got it but I think it’s because I came out with flying colors in my exams), my big lips, oblong face and hips that do not lie. I didn’t think I was beautiful enough.
So, when Chibuzor climbed down the stairs of his house again and looked into my eyes the way only he does and called me Omalicha, my heart picked race. And without a doubt, I believed him. He bought some oranges from me again and kept complimenting everything about me.
I braced myself up and asked for his name. “Innocent” He drawled and looked at me with a funny expression. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He played with his small beards for a while and then, dropped his hands into his pocket. Will you come in for a cup of tea? You don’t have to worry my parent is not around.”
Chai. I could imagine what the tea would look like. It will be well garnished with milk and sugar. Only God knew when last I had taken original tea. Maybe before my dad’s death. I was tempted, I mean very tempted to follow him inside. I realized at that spot that I liked him.
Innocent, was a lanky tall boy for his age. I knew he would likely be my age because his face gave him away. At first look, you would notice his handsomeness. “I’m sorry. Next time.” I managed to say. I quickly carried the almost empty tray on my head.”
Innocent laughed. You don’t have to be shy. I know you are naive. I won’t take advantage of your naivety. Removing his hands from his pocket, he held my tray and struggled to remove it from my head. “I won’t touch you or kiss you.” He added.
I felt my face flush. I wasn’t even thinking about that. But now that he had mentioned it, I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. “No, no… no.” I stuttered. “My mother would be waiting for me.”
“But promise.” He insisted.
I nodded and sighed feeling relieved when he finally let go of the tray. I fastened my steps, half walking and half running.
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