Chapter 4: Jacket and Judgement

The bell for the door ring, Tunde Okoye waka enter:

"Sorry, something hold me. I come late."

E dey arrange him shirt like person wey just dodge from exam hall. When him eye jam my cloth, e no waste time.

As e see my cloth, e just pull jacket, put for my shoulder:

"Wetin happen?"

The jacket soft, smell of him cologne—one kind scent wey dey make girls confuse. If dem bottle this scent, Naija babes go buy am like fuel for scarcity.

I talk, "Nothing, I just pour something for body."

I try act like big madam, but my voice small.

Comments dey scatter:

[Make the main guy turn back now! Main babe dey look am with love!]

[My chest dey pain me for the main babe—she just dey watch the guy wey she like dey care for another girl.]

[When supporting babe go comot? I wan fast-forward to when main guy dey chase main babe.]

I just look away.

No be every time person fit carry wahala for face. Sometimes, na to swallow pride remain.

Clang—

Suddenly, glass break.

I turn, na Halima Musa drop glass. She just dey mumble sorry, dey pick glass with bare hand.

I rush go: "No do am!"

But e don late—her hand touch sharp glass, blood just come out.

Blood dey rush, my hand dey shake. I never see this kind thing for real life before.

Even the people wey dey mama put just dey shout. Some dey talk say na village people, others dey say na bad luck.

She no even feel am, still dey pick glass like say she dey punish herself.

[My heart dey break for main babe. She dey suffer for inside, na why she dey hurt herself.]

[Later, main guy go find out, regret, even injure himself to feel her pain.]

Comments dey give me headache.

My head dey hot, like say I dey under generator for NEPA off.

Wetin be all this?

I tell Tunde Okoye: "You get plaster?"

E bring one from him pocket, give me.

I go, hold Halima Musa hand as she wan pick another glass, put the plaster for her palm.

"No pick am again."

I pause, talk softly, "No matter wetin, e no worth am."

Her hand cold, small blood dey trickle. My mind touch—she be better person, but life dey do am anyhow.

She finally calm, look me, then shift eye.

I notice—she dey look Tunde Okoye. That kind careful, hopeful look.

But e last small. She bow her head, whisper, "Sorry. I go pay for the dress."

Her voice almost disappear, like harmattan breeze.

I for vex, but as I see her face, my anger just dey do hide and seek. I just tire. "Na joke I dey joke. Forget the dress."

My voice come soft, I wave hand like say I dey chase fly.

I get many like that. She no do am on purpose. No need to stress person because of cloth.

Na so life dey sometimes. Wetin we go do?

I stand. "I dey go house go clean up."

Tunde Okoye frown. "No be that dress—"

I cut am. "E no matter."

I no wan hear long talk. If person no get peace, better comot.

E quiet, then hold my hand. "I go follow you house."

E dey do like bouncer, serious face. I just nod.

As we dey go, Halima Musa talk small:

"I really sorry for today."

She breathe in, gather courage, look Tunde Okoye:

"And… thank you for the plaster."

Everywhere just freeze.

The whole mama put just quiet. Some dey peep from kitchen, gist dey go for background.

Tunde Okoye look down, talk anyhow, "Na my babe get that plaster. You suppose thank her."

Him mouth twist like say e dey form hard guy, but e eye dey look the babe with small pity.

Halima Musa hold the plaster tight.

Me and Tunde Okoye waka comot.

Comments flash for my front:

[Make the main guy continue dey form. Make we see if e go still do like this when e dey beg for wife later!]

The wahala for love triangle na real.