₦airaland Forum

THREE


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THE morning sun had woken up with the break of dawn. It was a good day, as good as Patti loved it, with the sun golden and vigorous and cheering everything it shone on with life.

As was her morning routine, she had woken up early and had started her morning inside the poultries. Handling the layers were her thing as she preferred to make certain the eggs always came out of the poultry in good condition.

“We have five bucketful this morning.” She said to Ubaka, the poultry farm hand. “That is a whole bucket more than we managed yesterday morning. Progress, I tell you.”

“It’s expected with the way they feed.” Ubaka took the last bucket from her. “I’ve never seen birds eat so much in my life.”

“So long as they produce, I don’t care how much they eat.” Patti tugged off the bandana over her head and slipped off her hand gloves. “Be careful cleaning them now. I’ve got a huge demand for this evening.”

“I’m always careful.” Ubaka returned, already walking towards the tap.

“Uh-hmm.” Chuckling, she started towards the house.

She found Nneka in the kitchen and scooping out fried eggs for breakfast. “I don’t think I have much appetite this morning. A slice of bread and cup of tea will just be fine.”

“That is what Nnadim said minutes ago and I don’t know what you two want me doing with all these food.” Nneka grumbled, though the smile on her face belied the complaining words. “Don’t think he looks good this morning. Says he’s fine but I think his leg’s aching.”

“Oh.” Quick worry pushed a frown across her face. She most often never saw her grandfather before she went out for her chores. “I’ll go see him then.”

He was walking, more like lumbering, towards the dining table as she came through the kitchen door. “Leg problem this morning, Nnadim?”

“There’s always leg problem if you’re my age.” Nnadim dismissed the question and sat down. “Where’s that Nneka with my food?”

“Coming.” Nneka bustled in with a tray of sliced bread and a mug of steaming tea. “Don’t start complaining that it is too much. Someone’s got to finish all these food this morning.”

“Bread never goes bad if not eaten all at once.” Nnadim sent the middle-aged cook a glare. She always made a fuss over food. “And there is Ubaka and the rest ready to do justice to any leftover food if you’re worried.”

“How about you do your own justice and I worry about what Ubaka and the rest will do later, hmm?” Nneka retorted, then turned to Patti. “That all you’re eating?”

Patti nodded at the two slices of bread she’d set out for herself. “More than enough. I don’t want to be overweighed with food as I plan on weeding the tomato farm when I’m done.”

“Which would be why you would need more food and not less of it.” Nneka gave her head a shake. “Anyway, I heard there is a new doctor at the clinic.”

Patti raised her head. “Really?”

“So Nwamaka told me yesterday evening.” Nneka nodded. “Of course she is not certain if he is just coming in from Asaba on a daily basis or if he will be based here.”

“Based here as in settled in our town?” Patti gave a snort. “Please, none of these modern day doctors want the small town scene. He is probably taking over from Dr Ibisio in coming in daily and not staying long enough to truly attend to patients.”

Nneka let out a sigh. “This cannot continue; we need our own resident doctor. More than one if possible. We can’t keep running to Asaba for every emergency.”

“You would do well to run to Asaba if you don’t want that emergency turning into a disaster.” Patti picked her mug and drank before looking in the direction of her grandfather. “You’re awfully quiet this morning, Nnadim. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Because I don’t want to cackle and babble about a doctor we’re not sure if he is coming or not that makes me not all right?” Nnadim made a tsk and waved a hand in dismissal. “Please let an old man be, women. I have better thoughts in my head this morning.”

But his dismissive attitude didn’t fool her. Her grandfather always picked that nonchalant tone when he was trying to keep his family from worrying. “Did you sleep well last night?”

“I thought you asked me that earlier.” Nnadim emptied his mug of tea and pushed the tray towards Nneka. “You cooked well as always, Nneka. Now go serve the boys and stop strewing out early morning tall-tales.”

“If a new doctor would be taking over from Dr Ibisio then it won’t be a tall-tale. And instead of evading the question, you ought to admit that your legs are aching again and allow the girl take you to see that doctor.” And with a royal sniff, Nneka took her tray and marched off to the kitchen.

“I will pluck out the tongue on that woman one of these days.” Nnadim grunted.

“Your legs aching, Nnadim?”

And he muttered a curse under his breath. “You’re like a mother hen this morning, aren’t you?” At her pointed glare, he sighed. “I am all right.
They are just stiff bones—old people have them. You would too when you get to my age. And you won’t like people nagging you about them.” He added in a grumble.

“We should go to the clinic.” Patti decided and rose with her own tray. “We’ll at least see Aunty Nurse if no one else.”

“I don’t need to go to the clinic and I certainly don’t want to see Aunty Nurse.” Nnadim snapped. “Just leave me to have some rest, little girl.”
He feared injections and so his outburst didn’t worry her. It was his arthritis that always had her worried. “We are going. And if you don’t willingly come with me, I’ll give her a call and have her come down here. Do you prefer that?”

“I prefer to be left alone.” Her grandfather glared.

Patti chuckled. “I’ll go have my bath.”


♣ ♥ ♣


MAYBE it was just a matter of stiff bones but where her grandfather was concerned, Patti preferred to be safe than sorry. And though he continued to grumble and glare all the way to the clinic, that didn’t bother her at all.

“Good morning.” They generally greeted the few people on the rows of benches on the medical centre’s reception area.

Greetings echoed back to them and more directly to Nnadim.

“Here today, Patti and her grandfather?” Nurse Carol, that was what everyone called her, cheerfully hailed them.

Patti sent a friendly smile to the registered nurse who’d trained at Agbor and returned to their town after her training. “Yes. We’re hoping to see Aunty Nurse. Nnadim is experiencing pains on his legs.”

“There is no need to see Aunty Nurse, not today at least.” Nurse Carol took the card in Patti’s hand. “We have a new doctor and he is already in and seeing patients. I’ll just chuck you in since it is Nnadim.” She swept a glance at a teenage boy on the front bench. “You can hold off for Nnadim, can’t you, Nonso?”

“Of course.” Nonso, a senior secondary school boy happily nodded his head. He didn’t want to be at the clinic anyway. “Let Nnadim go ahead. Elders first.”

“Always generous.” Nurse Carol beamed at him and pulled out Nnamdi Chimezie’s case file from the shelved stack. “Take this with you. Once the young lady with him now comes out, you two go in. “You’ll be fine, Nnadim.”

“I am fine.” The old man grunted. And got a few laughs from waiting patients and family.

They didn’t have to sit and wait as the curtain that covered the doctor’s office door shifted open and a woman hobbled out of the office. “Next patient.” She weakly invited.

“That would be us thanks to kind Nonso.” Patti said, helping her grandfather forward as they walked towards the office. “You’re lucky we’re not seeing Aunty Nurse, so stop scowling.”

“I don’t want to see the new doctor either.” Nnadim muttered.

“Well, we’re seeing him.” Patti nudged aside the curtain and stepped inside before pulling her reluctant grandfather after her. “Good morning, doctor.” She began cheerfully and then halted her greeting.

It was him—the peeping Tom from two evenings ago. He was the new doctor?

Isidore saw the surprise in her eyes and neatly shielded his own. So they were to meet again? Inevitable in a small town like this, he figured.

“Good morning.” He gave her a polite nod and turned to smile at the old man she was holding on to. “Good morning, sir.” This must be her grandfather and so, Nnadim, the old man who’d sent the fishes to Mama-Onye. “Please have a seat, sir.”

“Thank you, my son.” Nnadim was suddenly perked up seeing the young doctor. “So you are our new doctor. Coming in from Asaba like Dr Ibisio, are you?”

“Actually fully here as a resident doctor.” Isidore smilingly corrected taking his case file from Patti without looking at her. “I was transferred here by the state government.”

“You’re telling us that you plan on settling here in this town?”

He looked at her now. Noted the utter disbelief in her eyes and stared pointedly at it. “Yes, I am. I am now the resident doctor here.”

“And for how long?” Patti asked, her tone faintly snide.

“For as long as my services as needed.” The woman certainly had an attitude problem.

“But that is wonderful. We really need our own doctor, someone who will be available twenty-four-seven to attend to patients.” Nnadim beamed at him. “Are you from around here? There is something familiar about you… if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“I am Mama-Onye’s grandson. The son of her only son.” Isidore explained to the old man.

“Aha! That is what is familiar. You have the look of your late grandfather.” Nnadim gave a quick laugh of pleasure and held out his hand. “You’re most welcome to our town, son—to your town. Your grandfather was a great man. A great hunter and farmer. He caught antelopes on a daily basis.”

“So I heard.” Isidore shook the man’s hand and then sat back down and opened his file. “So what is the problem, Nnadim?” Then he looked up. “I am assuming you are the one with the health issue since it is your case file I am looking into.”

“It is my arthritis.” Nnadim nodded. “They come with their troubles every now and then. Especially when it is raining and the weather is cold.”

“Hmm, that is expected. Cold weather is never good for rheumatic diseases and…” The rest of what he was going to say trailed off as the curtain over his office door shifted open and Aunty Nurse came in.

Her name was actually Roseline Okagbue but no one ever remembered to call her that.

“I have administered the treatment to the patient, doctor, and put him on a bed for a few hours rest as instructed.” She relayed to the doctor.

“Thank you, Nurse.” Isidore smiled his appreciation at the cooperation of the senior nursing sister. Though she’d been mainly in charge of the medical centre in the absence of a resident doctor, she’d easily given way to him upon his resumption yesterday.

“You’re welcome, doctor.” Aunty Nurse shifted her gaze smoothly to Patti and Nnadim. “Good morning, Nnadim. Your knees acting up again?”

“They are.” Nnadim confirmed. “How is your family?”

“They are fine. Only Onyinye sniffing because of the weather.” Aunty Nurse responded. “I will need some fish, Patti. Big well-dried ones. My in-laws are coming in from Ubulu-Unor this weekend and I want to prepare ofe-nsala and fufu for them.”

“Nothing better than ofe-nsala when family is visiting.” Patti smiled at the nurse in her late forties. “I will have some delivered to you tomorrow evening unfailingly and will add some of the spices Nneka got from the asha-eke yesterday.”

“Thank you, dear lady. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Aunty Nurse smiled before walking out of the office.

And as if reminded by the stopover of Aunty Nurse, Nnadim quickly stated. “I am not interested in getting injected this morning, doctor.”

Isidore chuckled. “That is all right since I am saving the usual corticosteroid injections you’ve been getting and switching it with some analgesic. I’ll recommend Cataflam. It would help with the pains you’re feeling, but I’ll send a request for Diclofenac to be sent in from Asaba. That will be a better pain medication. You can come pick that up in a few days.” Isidore made notes and then passed the file and note back to Patti. “A healthy diet high on fruits will also be helpful, and of course lots of rest.”

“I do nothing but rest with my granddaughter here to nag me.” Nnadim said, heaving to his feet and holding out his hand again. “I am glad that the son of Obinze has returned home to help his people.”

“I am happy to be here, sir.” Isidore dipped his head respectfully to the old man and offered a vague smile to Patti.

Who only stiffly responded—not at all to his surprise.

“Can you imagine, it is Mama-Onye’s grandson who’s come back home.” Nnadim enthused as they started on the drive back to the farm.

“We’ll see if he is actually back home when his city feet come calling.” Patti retorted.

Nnadim made a tsk-tsk sound. “You have been here many years now and your city feet haven’t come calling.”

“That is because they were firmly planted here before they ever went away briefly.”

Her grandfather snorted. “Stop being prejudiced, girl. You are not the only one who can return to your home town and stay in it.”

“I am not being prejudiced, Nnadim. I just know how these young men think… and act.” And at her grandfather’s new snort, she frowned and glared at the puddle-filled highway.

So he was Mama-Onye’s grandson—and a medical doctor too?

None of that mattered, she asserted to herself. He was city folk and he wouldn’t last long in their small town. Anyone expecting him to was possibly living in a fool’s paradise.

TWO


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ISIDORE thought it was lucky they were to have entered the house before the heavy downpour began. He never cared much for rain, not when it left him with a bad case of catarrh and cold—worst sicknesses of his life.

“The clouds are feeling bad tempered tonight.” Mama-Onye said with a soft laugh.

Isidore turned from the door he was securing to look at his grandmother. She was a pretty woman—he considered her still very much pretty despite the lines of age that have etched her fair face and little stoop old age has provided her with. She had kind eyes and a lovely laugh. She had a lovely soft, yet firm voice too.

“Is it the clouds which are bad tempered or the rain?” He queried, his eyes alight with a teasing gleam.

“The clouds.” Mama-Onye replied positively. “For it weeps and the rain comes.” She walked, in her unhurried manner, to the wooden table and chairs that served as her eating table and lowered into one chair. “I see Patti was here.” She observed, lifting the bagco bag on the centre of the table. “Did she leave any message?”

“Nothing much except to tell you that the fish is specially from Nnadim.” Nedu joined her at the table. “Who is he, Nnadim that is?”

“You should know him. You met him a few times while you were younger and visited more often.” Mama-Onye smiled as she opened the pack with the dried fish. “He is actually called Nnamdi Chimezie. But his mother called him ‘Nnadim’ all through his life because he was a replica of her late father and the name stuck. He is the owner of Mezie Farms. That mass of land and property you first see while coming into town. They have a poultry, a fish pond and a big vegetable farm. And they make supplies to regular customers. Actually, it is Patti herself who takes charge of the supplies. Saves most of us old folks a whole lot of trouble when we have her to bring home to us what we need.”

“A farm that does supplies in the village? That’s surprising and also impressive.” Having wiped off the droplets of water on his frame, Isidore joined them at the table.

“This is not a village. It is a town. We are the local government’s headquarter, you know.”

Isidore grinned at his grandmother’s good-natured chiding. “I stand corrected. But it is still a surprise seeing a farm which actual does supplies. I am impressed. I think it’s going to be fun living here.”

“You really mean to stay?” There was a deep note of surprise in Nedu’s voice.

Isidore looked at his cousin and smiled. “I do.”

“That’s crazy, man.” Nedu shook his head.

“It is not crazy. This is where he comes from and he should rightly offer his services to develop it.” Mama-Onye retorted. “And so should you.”

“Heck no, not me.” Nedu quickly rejected the idea. “Can’t survive in this backwater town. The only thing interesting I’ve seen so far is the lady that delivered these.”

“She’s not your kind of girl.” Mama-Onye said in mildly rebuffing tone.

“That sure is true. She was snooty, wouldn’t tell me her name. Not much of a pretty one, so don’t get why she was all snooty.” Nedu added the last bit with a touch of sneer.

“Beauty is not on the body but in the heart and soul.” Mama-Onye chided.

“That is for you, Mama-Onye. For us vibrant men, beauty starts from the body.”

The old woman gave a healthy snort. “You were always a troublemaker. But note, young man, that feeding your body and neglecting your soul is as unwise as judging a woman from her body’s appearance.”

Nedu tossed his great-aunt a big grin. “I feed my soul—on many Sundays and some lucky Wednesdays. And it is not me who judges a woman’s appearance, it is my eyes. Did not our wise elders say that the eyes have to feed first before all else?”

Mama-Onye gave that snort again. “Like you know what our elders really say.” Getting up, she took the bagco bag with her and headed towards the kitchen. “You boys sit down while I warm up the soup, so we can eat.”

“I’ll give you a hand, Mama-Onye.” Isidore offered, getting up too.

“Sit down. I might be old but I can still serve the men in my life.” She waved him off and continued into the kitchen.

But instead of sitting, Isidore picked the jug to refill it with water. He was never comfortable having people serve him—not when he should be serving them.


♣ ♥ ♣


HE was not also comfortable sitting at one place doing nothing. And so the next day, when the rain was gone and the sky was bright again with the setting sun, he decided to do a tour of the town. He would have loved some company on his walking-tour but Nedu had gone back to Lagos with the first morning bus and he couldn’t very well ask his grandmother to join him on the long walk.

It was more of a town, as Mama-Onye had defended, than a village. It was too big to be considered a village anyway. But it lacked the glamour of the city, and even some vital shine that are known to come with bigger towns around the country.

For one thing, it depressingly lacked constant power supply. Well, that was a national problem, Isidore mused, crossing the only highway of the town and heading north-ward towards its exit. But constant power supply wasn’t its only problem, there was also the lack of pipe-borne water, the poor road networks and the utter dismal state of the few government institutions in the town. It was a town that was neglected by the government and sadly abandoned by its own people.

But one couldn’t blame the people much, could they?

Everyone wanted the better life, the better opportunities, the better cared for towns and cities. Everyone wanted an opportunity to make it big—someplace else. He had wanted that, hadn’t he? He had rounded off his national service year, had rejected the first offer of job that had come from the state government to work here and had instead returned to the city to get a job.

For heaven’s sake, his parents had been shocked, and still were, that he’d resigned from his job in Lagos to take up that job offer when it had come again. They’d tried to talk him out of coming down to live and work in their hometown. They were still trying to convince him to get rid of the bad idea and return to the city.

If he wasn’t quite convinced in his decision, he would have yielded to his mother’s cajoling after his arrival two days ago and seeing the depressing state of the town.

Isidore put a hold on his pondering as he caught sight of the Mezie Farms signpost. Truth be told, he’d picked this route so as to catch a glimpse of the farm that handled supplies in a small town. If he was lucky, he might even get to walk inside and get a proper look.

But he wasn’t going to be so lucky, Isidore found when he came to the large wooden gate. It was firmly locked and he couldn’t find anyone in sight to allow him in—if they’d have allowed him in.

But since the wood fence was low enough, he leaned over it and fed his eyes.

“Did no one teach you that it is trespassing and against the law to be peeping into people’s private compound?”

Isidore spun around. And knew at once that this was the lady who did the deliveries standing on the other side of the fence. The Patti that Nedu had considered snooty. Indeed she wasn’t pretty—not facially so. But she was tall, possibly five-eight or thereabouts, slim and firm-bodied. The muscles of her arms from the round-neck T-shirt were taut and nicely defined. Isidore figured that that would be from farm work not workout effect. She wore no makeup and her hair was cut really low and left natural with no touch-ups.

“I’m sorry.” He apologised, giving her a smile. “I just wanted to see the farm.”

Patti wasn’t impressed. Not by the big smile and not by look of him. “Do you have business here then?” She knew that he didn’t.

She’d been tossing feed for the fishes when she’d caught sight of him and noticed him leaning over the fence.

The disinterest in her eyes was blatant and unpretentious. Isidore noted it and dimmed his smile a little. Maybe she was snooty as Nedu had said. “No, I don’t. I’m just a curious man having a look. Dare I request a tour?”

“Save the dare. It is a farm not a museum.”

“Museums are not the only place one gets a tour. One can even get a tour of a house.”

She smelt city on him and Patti instantly disliked him—and the know-it-all look in his eyes. “The farm is not a tourist attraction and we don’t give tours. We don’t also like people sneaking around the fence and peeping into the yard.”

“I wasn’t sneaking.” Isidore felt insulted that she’d use that term. She was surely snooty, and rude. “I came upon a farm that looked like it’d be impressive and I only stopped to have a look. But my apologies if I was breaking any rules…”

“You were.” It delighted Patti to break into his speech since his tone had turned superior. “The Mezie Farm’s rule of no-trespassing.”

“Fine. My apologies once more. I will take my leave now.” And not bothering to wait for her rude response, he turned and started back into town.

What an annoying woman. If this was how her manners were, then he wondered how she made deliveries without offending her customers. Or maybe she was the type that became supercilious when they felt a man was interested in them.

Well, she can keep her stuck-up nose to herself because he definitely wasn’t interested in her, Isidore thought, struggling to curb the edge of annoyance.

Joycelyn28:
Patti dearie wlcum to nairaland pls let me warn u dnt bring dat ur stubbornness in lifeandspices to dis place oooo cus We are nt Isidore n nairalanders go use mouth kill u oooo

hahahaha. Trying to figure out who you are.

KEY TO MY HEART is on, and far gone, on Life and Spices.com. Stopover and enjoy the love story of Patti and Isidore.

Read: KEY TO MY HEART

ONE

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THE sun was still up in the sky but shadowed by the hazy clouds now.

It would rain soon. Patti knew this and looked forward to it. She loved the rain, when it came at the right time, and when it came in the right torrents. The one building up behind the murky clouds looked like it would be just right.

It should wait though until she was done with her delivery. One more stop—the most important. Patti allowed the shadow of a smile to etch her face. She enjoyed doing the deliveries, one of the farm hands could do it, but it was a pleasure for her and so she took charge of it.

She enjoyed the handling the packaging of clients’ requests, seeing the pleasure on their faces when they get their deliveries and right at same level, she enjoyed the long rides in her Toyota Tacoma. Trundling along their little town’s broken-tarred roads in the truck always gave her a sort of power surge. A soothing feeling of being in charge and having a balance despite the brokenness of the path life has presented.

The smile around her mouth tugged harder at the thoughts in her head. She was a woman who liked to feel control, a good measure of it, over everything in her life. Where there was no balance, there was bound to be chaos—that was her private motto.

She changed down her gear and slapped on her turn signal as she prepared to cut into the dirt road that led right down to Mama-Onye’s house. Patti imagined the pleasure that will light up her old eyes when she saw the dried fishes she’s got wrapped for her. They were a great favourite of hers, the well-dried cat-fish and the various vegetables that accompanied her every delivery day.

The old woman herself was a great favourite of everyone in the small town, of hers in particular. Patti loved her, like she would her own grandma. She was quick-minded, unapologetically outspoken—says it like it is. And she was generous. That was her most loved virtue, her compassionate, generous heart. She would think of everyone else before she thought of herself.

It sometimes made Patti ashamed that she wasn’t that altruistic. But one can only be faithful to one’s true nature—that was the consolation she always gave herself. One Mama-Onye never failed to tease her with.

Onyemaonyenweuwa.

That long mouthful was her real name. Who knows the true owner of the world? Patti always wondered, when she thought of her name, if their forefathers were questioning if the world belonged to God… or to Satan.
Maybe.

But it was having Onye appear twice in her name that earned the dear old lady that pet-name. And they of the younger generation added ‘Mama’ to it as a dual form of respect and endearment.

“Mama-Onye!” Patti called out even as she slowed down and pulled up beside the old brick bungalow house. “Mama-Onye, I’m here… and here with fish.” She gave a chuckle and jumped down the truck, marching around the back to begin unloading.

She started with the crate of eggs. They were the most delicate and should be catered inside first. A shadow of a frown came upon her face that the old woman had not responded to her call and hadn’t come out of the house. Patti figured though that she might be at the backyard and might not have heard her. Not her usual routine with her liking to sit out front on the veranda when the evening sky was golden with the setting sun and the air was cool.

But maybe the prepping rain had sent her inside.


She angled her elbow to nudge open the door and then took a quick step back when it opened and a man’s bigger and fuller frame filled the doorway not Mama-Onye’s.

“Well, hello.” The man’s face, dark, angular and shadow-bearded brightened into a smile. “Who do we have here?”

Patti saved her snort. She knew a city line when she heard it—and she has heard it way too many times to care to hear it again. “Evening. Mama-Onye not home?”

“Fortunately not. Fortunately for me, that is.” The smile upped to a grin. “She had some errands to run. That for her? Let me help you with it. I’m her nephew—if you are wondering.”

She was. But Patti didn’t bother with a response. She just handed over the crate of eggs and turned to get the other things from the truck. With them being well-bagged vegetables and the dried fish, she catered them in both hands and was saved mounting up the front stairs of the house as the man was out and coming down them.

“Let Mama-Onye know the fish is specially from Nnadim and that I’ll be back next week with fresh supplies.” She instructed, handing over the bagco bag.

“Right. And thank you. Do we owe anything for all of these?”

“Nothing. Mama-Onye handles her bills in advance.” Something you would know if you were ever around. Patti added the reproving thought only to herself. She shut the back seat door of the truck and marched towards the front.

“Hey, I didn’t get your name?”

Patti spared him a glance. “That’s because I didn’t give it.”

She got in behind the wheel, started the truck and pulled out of the compound.

She didn’t think about the nephew again—except to briefly wonder where he’d appeared from. No doubt on a quick visit to the old lady in the village. He was surely city type—was definitely city mannered.

Her phone rang and Patti slipped the earpiece right into one ear. “What’s up, Nnadim?” Slang-like greetings have always been their thing.

“Clouds of rain impatient to come down.” Her grandfather wittily retorted. “Hope you’re heading home. It looks like it’s going to be a big one tonight.”

“That is good, we need it.” Patti expertly swung into their one-major highway. “But I’m already heading back, so I think I will beat it.”
“Good. Grab some Yoghurt from Obi, will you?”

“Will do that. See you soon.” She ended the call and tossed off the earpiece.

From her windshield, she eyed the darkening sky. Yes, it was going to be a big one all right and she would beat it. Prepped for the challenge, Patti tapped on her left-side indicator and cut off to the other side of the road to park in front of the town’s biggest supermarket.

Only supermarket if you considered that the other provision stores were just mini shops.

“Obi, evening. How’s market today?” She greeted the late-thirties shopkeeper.

“Business is always good.” Obi smiled his welcome. “Yoghurt for Nnadim, right?”

Patti smiled. “You know him well. And add those cookies Nneka love so much. Why she can’t let go of sweet things, I can’t fathom.”

Obi chuckled and got busy with her orders. “Just because you evaded the grasp of the sweet-tooth doesn’t mean everyone succeeded on that. And thank God for that, for where will I be if the entire world was inclined towards the sour like you are, eh?”

“Which is why the world is rightly balanced—some like it sweet, some like it sour.” Smiling, Patti took the packaged goods and slipped out money to pay for them. Then slipped back the change he passed her into her jeans. “Let me run, Obi. I’m aiming to beat the rain.”

“You will only if you hit hard on your accelerator.” Obi called after her.

“If only the roads permitted it.” Patti called back, getting back into her truck and back on the road.

The rain was coming in drizzles by the time she walked through their front double door.

“You are lucky.” Nnadim greeted her. “This is just preliminary drops. It will get heavier, louder and more menacing in a matter of minutes.”

“But I beat it.” Patti declared with a puff of pride at her self-challenge

She hung her key back on its clip and walked towards their mini dining area where her grandfather was setting out the dishes. He was tall, a little curved from old age and bone aches. But he was not as grey-haired as most old people in his age grade were.

“I see it’s fried yam and tomato sauce for tonight. Where’s Nneka?”

“Huddled up in her place and claiming she won’t surface until morning.”

Patti laughed. Rain always chased the farm’s cook under her blankets. “I’ll have to save her cookies for tomorrow then. Got your Yoghurt here.” She pulled it out and then sat down beside her grandfather. “Want to lead the grace?”

“You go ahead.” Nnadim invited.

And Patti dropped her head, linked hands with her grandfather and then said the grace.

“So how’s Onye? Did she like the fish?” Nnadim asked as they started eating.

“She would.” Patti helped herself generously to the tomato-fish sauce. “Didn’t meet her though. Had some errands to run… so I was told by her nephew.”

“Nephew?” Nnadim raised his head. “She has someone visiting? Didn’t hear anything.”

“Maybe he’s just arriving.” News, or gossip, travelled fast in their small town. “Anyway, he was there and he received the goods on her behalf. Wanted to know if he would be paying me. He would know how she plans out her affairs if he cared enough about her to visit often.”

“Hmm.” Nnadim said nothing else to the criticism. Old age thought you to judge less and be more tolerant. “So what does he look like, this nephew?”

The over-casual tone did not deceive Patti. And it did not change what her answer would be anyhow. “Like a man. Tall like one, muscle-built like one and sure talked like one.”

A disinterested observation. Nnadim swallowed his sigh, but not his worry. “Must be good looking then.” He pressed.

“He had two legs, two hands and a face. So I guess that works for good looking.”

Again he swallowed his sigh. And again, he couldn’t swallow the worry that etched his heart. But he said nothing and went on eating.

Patti looked at him though. Noted the worry lines. “Stop worrying.” She chided.

“I am not.” And because his denial was quick and false, Nnadim smiled. “It’s a grandfather’s job to worry about his granddaughter.”

“Your granddaughter is just fine… and would always be. So stop worrying.” And because she loved him and understood him, Patti gave his hand in an affectionate rub. “I am always fine, Nnadim. Fine and content.”

“But happy?”

“Happy too.”

Nnadim stared momentarily at her before he lowered his head. “One can never be completely happy with being alone.”

“And mercifully, I am not. Happiness is not man-dependent, Nnadim.”

She meant it—and she believed it. She surely planned on living and proving it.

Patti dipped a piece of yam into her sauce, chucked it into her mouth and sent her grandfather a reassuring smile.

COPYRIGHT © TM David-West. All Rights Reserved.

LATE BLOOMER

Teespice:
thanks for clarifying the ish about the pricing. I totally get your drift.

I had no idea certain things had to be put into consideration for the pricing.

don't be offended.

No offence whatsoever taken, teespice. You made a request and I strove to provide you an answer with reasons as concisely and honestly as is possible. Neither of us should be offended. The pricing of any good in the marketplace is done with many factors taken into consideration... that is the simple truth or maybe fact.

Thank you again.

Teespice:
prettyspicey,

I have loved your novels both on nairaland and okadabooks. you are a very gifted writer.

can you reduce the price of most of your novels on okadabooks?

I honestly want to buy them but the price is scaring me. I have managed to buy few so far.

pretty please.

Thank you, Teespice. I unfortunately cannot reduce the prices on my eBooks. They are npt exorbitant. They are actually rightly priced. I cannot imagine selling a novel of 96,000+ words which I spent 2 years (on and off) writing for anything less than #700. Or another of 78,000+ words for less than #600.

When pricing my eBooks, genre, number of words & POV is taken into cognizance and despite all of these, I strive not to overdo it.

What is purchased for #175 is a mere 14,500+ words and when compared to the novels like Unconventional Proposal or For Better, For Worse, it is actually pricier but buyers fail to recognise these.

While I thank you for your patronage and would desire you, and all, to purchase all my works, I cannot belittle or under-price my works to satisfy my desire for sales or readers desire for cheaper eBooks.

May God help us all, Teespice.

Visit http://lifeandspices.com/ for interesting stories like House on the Hill; The Marriage Ultimatum and our latest blog series Key To MY Heart.

And also visit the "TM David-West" category on Okadabooks to purchase her eBooks. Hope you have a good read.

“How long have you been seeing him?” Again. My head reminded my battered heart to add again, but I could not muster the effort.

“A month or so.” Ama didn’t look at me.

She’s been avoiding my gaze since this conversation started. Well, longer really. She hasn’t quite been able to hold my gaze for a month or so.

“Why?”

It was what I didn’t get. What I couldn’t get—why she would leave me for another man. She has left me, hasn’t she? Having sex with another man, being unfaithful to me—that was leaving me, right?

I thought so. But I was confounded, so I could be wrong.

“He made me feel better.”

It was a defiant retort. It wounded me. It said I was not enough. I was not better.

“In bed?”

I shouldn’t ask maybe but I had to know.

“Yes. And in every other way.” Then as if to make it clear it was my fault, Ama added. “He was more generous too. He understands my needs and always makes provisions for me. He is never full of excuses.”

Like you. That was the part she left unsaid. He, the man she’d been unfaithful with, was never full of excuses like me. He understood her needs… what were they really?

“So it is about money and intimacy then?”

My head hurt. My heart hurt even more. And my pride? It was shattered. Torn to nothingness by the unfaithfulness and callous words of my girlfriend.

“Don’t make it sound cheap.” Ama glared at me.

She had always had a loving look, now she glared. Of course she’d been sullen most of last week. That was when I’d suspected—and then snooped.

“You mean it’s not cheap, you sleeping with another man behind my back?” I stared at her.

So beautiful. Maybe too beautiful. Was that why it had happened, because she was too beautiful? Were beautiful women fickle as some of my friends do say? Would I have fared better dating an ugly woman? Or one just plain to look at?
I did not know. Not at present when I hurt so much.

“You’re playing the victim here and making me out to be the villain.” She was sulking now.

She made a habit of sulking instead of taking responsibility for her actions. It used to make me want to pet and placate her. Now, it just left me astonished.

“I am playing the victim? Am I not the victim then? Am I not the one you cheated on?”

She was selfish. I saw that clearly now. Selfish, self-centred. Self-absurd. Why had I not seen all these before? Blinded by love… lust?
“I did not cheat on you, Muna.”

“You did not?”

“No, I didn’t.” She insisted defiantly. “I only made a different choice. We’re not married, so cheating does not apply. You have not even met my parents, proposed marriage to me and you’re talking about cheating.” She let out a long hiss.

And I stared at her. So unfaithfulness applied only to married couples? That was her belief... or her excuse? She had a right to cheat on me because I have not yet proposed to her, I have not yet met with her parents, we are not married, I am not generous and I am not good in bed. Those were her excuses—multiple of them. I felt so weary.

“You’re unworthy of my love.” I murmured. If it was love I felt for her, then she was unworthy of it. “As you have cheated on me, so another will cheat on you.”

“Ah, please don’t curse me oh!” She snapped a hand over her head to reject the curse.

But it wasn’t a curse.

And I told her this. “It’s not a curse, Ama. It is karma. What goes around, comes around.”

She glared at me, hissed, snatched up her handbag and stomped out of my house.

I curled into my seat, closed my eyes and tried to soothe my broken heart.


* * *


“I want to know who that LovePeddler is that you’re cheating on me with.” I clapped my hands in his face.

Anger burned through me. But it was the pain of betrayal that was more poignant.

“Get a-hold of yourself, Ama.” His tone was disgusted. His expression even more so.

That look of pure disdain, cast in my direction, wounded me deeply. When had I become a thing of such repugnance? Tears pricked behind my eyes but I defiantly held them back.

“Why would you do this to me, Owans?”

Even as I asked, somehow I knew he’d have no real answer for me.

“Do what to you? Do you own me?”

Did I own him? No. But I thought we were in a relationship. That meant belonging to each other at some level, didn’t it?
“I gave everything to you. I gave up what I had for you.”

“And what did you give up?” Owans sneered. “That you left that miserable boyfriend of yours? Is that the sacrifice you are whining about? Please don’t be melodramatic, Ama. We both know you left him because he couldn’t afford to satisfy your greed for the good things of life.”

“No!” I was horrified that he would think me greedy.

But I was, wasn’t I? I had left Muna because of my desire for more—more money. More sex. That was greed, right?
And now it had backfired on me.

Karma.

I cheated on him, now Owans has cheated on me.

“Maybe I was greedy. Still I loved you.” I think I did. In my own way. “I cared for you. You should not have cheated on me.”

“Cheated?” Owans laughed mockingly. “That particular crime only applies to committed lovers, Ama. We were only friends with benefits. And now even that is over.”

My own words tossed back in my face.

I looked at Owans and I realised sex and money wasn’t everything. They were useful, pleasurable even, but they weren’t everything. Love mattered more. Respect was worth more.

I lost both—because I was unfaithful.

COPYRIGHT © TM DAVID-WEST. All Rights Reserved.

No part of this short story is to be copied, printed or used without prior permission of the writer TM David-West (AKA PrettySpicey).