A Bouquet of Dilemma

A Bouquet of Dilemma

Tayo Emmanuel

Copyright Tayo Emmanuel 2013

Smashwords Edition

To Mzee’s triplets

TABLE OF CONTENT

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

Glossary

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER 1

Who wouldn’t remember her first kiss? Yes, I remember mine now. It was in form four, a week after I played Juliet in Shakespeare’s famous romance tragedy in the school’s end of first term fiesta. The boy who played Romeo had asked me to wait after classes so he could give me a gift for putting up a good show. The fact that he thought of giving me a gift was enough to make my silly head run in different wild directions and it made me feel very special. It was common knowledge that most of the girls in my set wanted a piece of him, for being so ruggedly handsome and streetwise. Even before I opened the gift, he had pulled me to himself and kissed me with such gusto I almost fainted. And of course, he knew I enjoyed it because he soon graduated to touching my breasts once we were alone in the class. And then he had kept pushing for more, asking me if we could meet after school.

Maybe I would have given in eventually, it always felt good and I thought it could only get better. But our romance came to an end towards the end of third term, when I made the mistake of mentioning to my friend, Maggie that the silly boy had jokingly threatened to stop seeing me if I didn’t pass my Maths as he wouldn’t want to be associated with a dullard. Maggie had lured him out into the playground and given him a showdown. He didn’t talk to me for the rest of the term and I was heart-broken when he started seeing another girl within two weeks. That seems long ago.

It’s amazing that the end of one journey is often the beginning of another, yet you start each one with so much relish as if its completion would be the most remarkable event in your life, only to get to the end and realise that you’ve actually just opened another page, leaving you wondering if it would ever end. That’s how I see life now, an unending quest for different things at different phases of life. The next phase of my life is clearly defined even though no one had bothered consulting me. Like everybody around me, that would be another four years of study at the university, and then another one year at Law school. And then what?

Memories of the past five years float back into my head as I take another bite of the sausage roll; I remember the good ones like when I won the literary and debating award in form four and when my form three class teacher continually referred to me as a good role model; the bad ones like when my skirt got stained during my first menstrual period the second week I resumed school and when I fell face-flat during the one thousand, five hundred meter race in the inter-house sports; and the really terrible ones like when my two-timing boyfriend told me off in the presence of his girlfriend in form five and when a bus conductor almost tore my uniform because my purse got stolen in school and I couldn’t pay my bus fare. I find every bit of all that amusing now.

I retrieve myself from the nostalgic reverie and focus on the party, which is turning out to be a carnival of sort. I haven’t stopped wondering how Maggie had convinced her parents to agree to such a big party. Of course, they are very rich, but even at that. What would they do when she finally qualifies as a lawyer? Well, one good excuse is that she didn’t celebrate her sixteenth birthday last year and they agreed to the party only after GCE and JAMB results had been published. We passed brilliantly well, especially with ‘A’ in Literature; and ‘C’ in Maths is not bad either. And we both got admission into the State University.

Positioning myself by the gate, I start welcoming our friends. I can practically see the expression of awe on their faces when they enter the compound. Most people in school knew Maggie was from a rich home, but no one knew how rich, especially when she tells them she is not in any way related to the famous Abiola family who also lives at Ikeja. When she introduces herself, Maggie would usually add, ‘and my father is not MKO’ so people would not bother to ask.

I revel in that look of shock and then admiration the moment someone steps into the compound. One girl takes some steps in, then retreats and asks me if this is a hotel or Maggie’s house. By five o’clock on the dot, one of the servants comes to close the gate and I go to join the party at the garden. Maggie had said anyone who came later than one hour didn’t deserve to be at her party. She is still inside the house, but people are mingling very well and apparently having fun. As the co-hostess, I need to keep on circulating to ensure everyone is okay. It’s a cocktail party, so there are no chairs; some have formed chatting cliques while some others continue to look around, eating, drinking or dancing.

Segun, Maggie’s older brother emerges from the house and I quickly drag him to the dance floor. He’s her exact male version; dark, handsome and slim with a muscular six-foot frame. Maggie and I call him stud (he doesn’t know that), because he has a lot of girlfriends. As far as looks go, I wouldn’t have minded him except that I would rather not fight for his attention beside the fact that we have a familial boundary, like brother and sister.

Why do you want to dance with me, where is your boyfriend? He asks smiling, pretending to be resisting my pull.

I had to rescue you from your lonely state, bro, seeing that Maggie was mean enough not to invite any of your girlfriends. She probably got confused or have they all ditched you?

Not on your life. If you hear that a girl ditched me, it’s because I want to help her keep her pride intact. He says arrogantly. I’m actually hoping I would get a catch here tonight.

How does he manage to swing all those girls? Thank God I’m not your girlfriend.

You? He looks at me with an enticing smile. With a girl like you, who needs another girlfriend?

Hmm, I’m in love. You could have fooled me.

By the way, why didn’t you girls think of a pool party instead of this cover-it-all affair? Segun asks. I’ve told Maggie severally to leave party organising to the boys, she never listens.

By my reckoning, a lot of the girls are wearing the barest minimum while trying to maintain public decency. You want them to come naked?

He shrugs. That would make me less confused as I am now. You could have done better than this, that’s all I have to say. Which one of those girls would you recommend?

None, Segun you have no shame. I answer curtly. Pitch your tent elsewhere. They could all pass for your junior sister.

Don’t be ridiculous, I’m content to have only one sister and I’m not related to anyone of your friends in any way. He shifts his eyes to scan the crowd. Junior sister indeed! He snickers. Anyway, which one of these bores is your boyfriend?

Why are you interested?

So I’d know if you’ve learnt anything from me about boys.

And who says you’re the yardstick for romance?

You just said it. He laughs. That girl is staring at me now, the one in pink top? He is focused on someone ahead of me, but as I make to turn and follow his stare, he turns my head back. Don’t look now!

Hey, that felt like a slap. I wince, rubbing my cheek.

Sorry, but I don’t want her getting embarrassed, we’ve already made eye-contact.

Are you going after her? I ask, pouting. Silly question, I already know the answer.

What do you think?

Maggie elegantly enters the garden now with her latest catch. They’ve been going steady for about a month now and as usual, they are all over each other, laughing and touching. She looks like a life mannequin with her professionally done hair and makeup, especially the thick red lips and really, if not for her small breasts, she could have passed for Anita Baker’s alter. Apart from country music singers, Anita Baker is the only other singer Maggie cares about, because of her stylish hairstyle. She is wearing a black clinging halter neck dress with silver sequins draped all over and matching red sequined sandals. Since her new found boyfriend is not from our school, some of the girls would be wondering where she hooked him up from, but I’m not doing any telling. She goes into her regular intro-dance-steps, one leg after the other with intermittent gyrating hips, head swinging and finger snapping in calculated synergy to the music as we all cheer her to the dance floor.

And the beat goes on…

People start cheering as someone comes in carrying a carton of what I guess is liquor. Even though their parents had forbidden it, Segun had insisted we needed the liquor to put the party in full swing and he had commissioned his friend to bring it in. The first time I took alcohol was with him and Maggie and somehow I knew I had lost control of some parts of my brain. So I steer clear. But not Maggie; she has her rascal brother to support her; my only brother is just like Daddy; an effiko. Otherwise, why couldn’t he be at this party? He said he had his final project to defend, as if he is the only undergraduate. He’s four years older than me, but at twenty two, I’m not sure he has ever had a girlfriend.

Segun and I break up our dance and go to help his friend unpack. Only then did I see the full profile of the tall, dark guy, dressed in stretch black jeans and white linen shirt. My heart suddenly skips, stopping me in my tracks. He looks at me deeply, causing me to flush inside. He is delicately handsome, hunky, penetrating eyes, dimples and lips to die for; the kind of guy you see on the front page of GQ. Segun nudges me with his elbow, Have you guys met?

I must look really taken, I don’t utter a word. But he rescues me. Hello, my name is Richard.

I could die for that Teddy Pendergrass’ voice. I hold out my hand for a handshake before remembering that his two hands are occupied with a carton. Er, my name is Tobi, I’m Maggie’s friend. As Segun makes to collect the carton from him, I quickly pick a bottle from the stock, leaving immediately to look for Maggie and particularly in a bid to conceal the overwhelming feeling of self-consciousness that has suddenly consumed me.

Maggie and I are backing the wall subsuming the flow of the party. Those heels must be killing her by now and knowing her, she would make me suffer for it, because she would definitely ask me to massage her feet. She takes the last sip of the brandy directly from the bottle and places it behind a shrub where no one can see it. After making small talk for a few more minutes, she drags me along to chat with the guests.

I notice him, the one with the baritone voice gliding towards one of the girls, but our eyes meet and he seems to change his mind and heads towards us instead. My mind starts racing and my stomach starts churning left, right and centre at the same time.

Birthday girl, the last time I saw you, you were this little. He says to Maggie, demonstrating her height and pulling both her cheeks.

She smiles and gives him a bear hug. That’s a lie, I see you’ve been growing up too, even taller than Segun now.

It’s not my fault your brother stopped eating beans. He jokes.

Thanks for the drinks, I knew we could always count on you. Segun said you came alone. It seems she intended that to be a question.

Didn’t all your friends come alone? He replies gracefully. It would be a waste if there are no dudes like me to cheer them up, you know.

Hmm, true. She turns to me. Richie and Segun were best of friends in boarding school, but he’s the master of the game when it comes to girls.

Tobi, don’t believe everything you hear? Richard makes a face at Maggie. That’s not a nice way to introduce a gentleman. I will do that myself. Did I detect a hint of arrogance in him?

Oh! Maggie exclaims, genuinely surprised. Tobi, you know Richie?

No, no. I manage to slur before she gets on to any mischief. We only just met today.

Yes, that’s like Richie, never a slacker. She has that mischievous smile and it seems she’s thinking about what to do with the two of us. She leans forward to him and does a whisper.

Richard shakes his head and gives her a gentle push. I’m sure your other friends would need you now, you don’t have to monopolise Tobi.

Common Richie. She urges with that voice she usually employs when she wants to have her way. He keeps on shaking his head, indicating a no. She shrugs and scurries away.

With Maggie out of the way, Richard turns to me with a smile I can only describe as alluring; his dimples are deep and hot! And my legs feel very heavy. How do you ever cope with Maggie? He asks. I answer with a shrug. It seems you are the quiet one? He asks again and I almost shrug a second time, but decide I should say something before he thinks I’ve gone mute because of him.

I count from one to three inside me and then I respond with as much calm as I can muster. Only when there’s nothing to say and I thought you wanted to catch up with Maggie.

Can anyone ever catch up with her? He is looking at her and shaking his head. She has too much energy and always up to something. I notice Maggie disappear into the house.

So, what do you think she’s up to now? I ask, trying to keep up the conversation. But more like trying to suppress the electric current racing throughout my body. If that swimming pool was not cordoned off, I probably would have jumped in. Why do I feel this way? I hope he can’t notice.

She’s your friend, you should tell me.

I’m not the one she whispered to. I mumble, more because I am curious about what Maggie told him.

Oh, that? He turns one hundred and eighty degrees facing me and brings his mischievous eyes back to mine. She said you are her most precious friend, so I should handle you with extreme care, like glass and make sure you don’t break into pieces.

She said that? The blood rushes to my face now. His eyes are scorching through my clothes right to my skin and his voice is captivating. What am I supposed to say to him? Get hold of yourself, girl, stay calm. I didn’t know I was that fragile.

Actually, she didn’t say that, do you believe everything you hear? I hope I didn’t offend you? I shake my head, not sure of what to say. I don’t want to look stupid in his eyes any more than this. In that case, I need you to tell me if you are fragile or not?

I’m not sure I know what you mean.

You used the word fragile, although I must admit you are really pretty and you do look very precious.

I think it would make sense now to simply ignore this trend of conversation since I don’t know what he’s driving at. Thank you, why don’t you get on the dance floor while I go get a drink? Maybe I can breathe better if he leaves, seeing that my own legs can’t do any walking now, lest I trip.

He ignores my suggestion and chooses rather to expatiate on what Maggie said. Actually, Maggie said …

Neither of us saw Maggie as she flashes back, holding a bowler hat. She whispers to Richard, again. He starts protesting, but she is insisting and as I look on, trying to fathom what the argument is about, she drags him to the middle of the dance floor and puts the hat on his head. He looks back at me helplessly, shaking his head continuously. He adjusts his shirt and the hat and then starts Michael Jackson’s moonwalk dance. It had happened so swiftly and I had been so consumed with his presence, I did not realise when the music changed to Billy Jean. Everybody stops dancing to form a circle and watch him do the dance. I have watched the Billy Jean video over and again and watching someone of his age and physique do the whole song and not miss a beat gives me goose pimples.

When the song ended, he takes a bow and throws the hat in my direction, but the girl standing beside me reaches out to catch it. The applause is reverberating as someone pushes her towards him and she almost falls but he catches her on time and they go on dancing, naturally, as if it’s a scene he had rehearsed severally.

Soon enough, the show is over. Everyone goes back to dancing or chatting. Someone manages to hook me on the dance floor. Thankfully, I am breathing normally again and my legs are working perfectly. Well, almost. The guy I’m dancing with tries to talk to me, but I keep pretending I can’t hear him because of the loud music, so we continue dancing. Yet dancing with him does not take my mind off Richard and I peek at him dancing with the other girl with a tiny twinge of jealousy. He is so astonishingly gorgeous; effortlessly and casually. Those penetrating eyes and tempting luscious lips are my undoing. What if he goes for her?

Strangely, I feel his eyes on me; almost boring a hole in my skin. I peep at him again and our eyes meet. I feel the blood rush to my face for the umpteenth time. If what they say about light-skinned girls is true, my face would be all red by now. In an instant, Richard swings the girl away from him to my dancing partner and I find myself dancing with him. How did he manage that?

May I have the pleasure of this dance? He asks in the most seductive voice. I nod, not that I have a choice; he already has me in his hands.

The only thing I feel is inadequate after watching his dance manoeuvres. I hope you won’t be disappointed, I’m not near as good as you. I mumble. He simply smiles and he continues to hold on to my hands, twirling me with him. When his right hand moved to my waist, I feel a shiver inside me and I suddenly step on his toes almost losing my balance. That pushes me closer to him, but he pretends not to notice and we go on dancing. I hope he wouldn’t think that was deliberate. I need to get a grip of myself. After a while, without saying a word, he guides me to a secluded corner, right at the end of the pool and on impulse, we both sit on the floor.

I warned you about Maggie, didn’t I? He asks.

Maggie is the perfect mastermind, but we all enjoyed the flavour you added to the party.

So, now I am the flavour. Richard laughs. Anyway, thanks for the compliments. You dance well.

Who, me? Thank you, but no thanks because I don’t believe you. I reply. Why does he think he needs to be nice about that? Why can’t you just take a good compliment, the other voice replies. But I know he’s either trying to be nice or he’s mocking me, dancing is not near the top on my list. And where did you learn to dance like that?

My mother told me I started dancing three months before she gave birth to me. We both laugh. My body is beginning to relax, but I still feel internally hot. You know, I have this feeling that we’ll go a long way together. He holds my hands in his, caressing them. I should pull my hands away, but I don’t, pretending it’s the most natural thing in the world. Your hands are very supple. He turns my palms up and stares at them in admiration before pressing them against his face.

You know I have a feeling I’m not going to be one of your girls. I reply, trying not to sound easily beguiled, yet I leave my hands with him. Like Maggie said, he is not a slacker at all, but I don’t intend to make it easy for him now that I have found my voice.

My girls? That’s the problem with having a reputation. He makes a face which looks more like a contorted smile. But I like you all the same, and I know you like me. He stares into my eyes and I feel he’s trying to force me to admit that I like him. For sure, I liked him from the first time I saw him, but that Maggie’s introduction just kind of threw in a spanner.

How can you be sure I like you? I ask in a low-pitched voice, looking aimlessly at my feet. All too soon, I have become rather self-conscious to meet his probing eyes.

I know because I read bodies, like I’m reading yours now, and don’t even try to hide under that ‘girl playing hard to get’ lie. He says self-assuredly and flirtatiously as he begins to turn my right palm up, but I withdraw from him. His touch is light, but electrifying. Well, whether he read me or not, I don’t have to reveal that I am inwardly swooning over him, although that is taking a lot of effort on my part.

I think we should get back to the party. I wouldn’t want you to miss all the fun and I need to take care of the guests.

He pulls me back. I’m sure the guests can take care of themselves, or are you trying to avoid me?

Why should I try to avoid you? He shrugs. Putting me on the defensive seems to be his subtle way of stopping me from leaving. Yet I can’t make sense of why I am staying. What would you like to talk about then? Maggie said you are master of the game, so you can take charge. I say sarcastically. Maybe we should talk about girls. Definitely you must have your hands full.

I have some. He nods. But I guess you keep looking until you find what you really want.

At least he is sincere, although I wish he was more modest. So what does he really want that he hasn’t found on campus? That’s where most men fish from these days and from what I’ve heard of universities you can find any type of girl there, from the most ludicrous to the most serious? Then he goes on to tell me about himself. His full names are Richard Adebola Aro. He had to leave home after secondary school because money was tight; he is twenty three, lives all by himself; lost his mother when he was quite young, his father lives in Ibadan and is married to his fourth wife; he has one brother, one half-sister and a lot of step sisters and brothers he hardly sees, although they are all on good terms; he rarely goes to church, he was lucky to get a job as a sales clerk immediately after moving to Lagos, he used to work as a DJ a while ago, he has an old blue Volvo he drives about town; he drinks a lot, but doesn’t consider himself a drunkard; yes, he likes girls, and that has put him in trouble because he has a two year old daughter from a girl he doesn’t care so much about; he wants to go abroad in search of greener pastures; life has not been easy at all, but he’s determined to make the most of it and enjoy himself.

Without any written handbook, I have seen enough around me to know that every young Nigerian contends with a lot of social constraints in the nineties. When your relationship with the opposite sex begins to take a more serious dimension, things could be quite tricky. There are a lot of informal rules that could make nonsense of the most prospective relationship. First