₦airaland Forum

I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings; I was in a hospital and my head hurt tremendously. I tried to move it, but the pain only intensified, then I touched it and felt the bandage, and then it all came back to me slowly; Oti had proposed and I had tried to get out of the hammock, I must have fallen and hit my head.

Suddenly I remembered: my head wasn’t going to be the only part of my body hurting when Pat, her parents, & even my parents found out what I’d been up to. How did I get myself into this mess? How could I have had an affair with my friend’s grandfather?

It all began about two weeks after I first met Oti. My uncle Ekanem wanted me to attend an ‘Economic Summit’ with him, “I could use an intelligent, young lady’s point of view.” he said. I did have, still have an interest in such things, gets my blood pumping and my brain spinning. Plus, my favorite uncle was asking and Pat was out of town. Actually, she was out of the country, so I went with him. After the event, I was speaking with one of the guest speakers and I was really going on and on and voicing my opinion and he seemed impressed, but so was Oti, who had been standing behind me and listening for quite some time. The speaker made to introduce us, but Oti told him we had already met. We all stood talking for a while, and then the guest speaker asked to be excused and left us both alone. We made small talk for a while and then he said: “We should get together sometime; you should come by the house”.

Again, there was that look in those eyes. I just couldn’t figure out what it was all about but anyway I said, “I will sir, if I can find my way”.

“James will come pick you up; just let me know when you want to come”

“Aright, sir”

A few days later, I was coming out of a library when I ran into him.

“Ah, Bassie, how are you?”

“I’m fine sir”, I said with a smile. “I didn’t know you used this Library Sir, I come here often but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you.”

“Well, I was looking for a book which, I just discovered that I don’t have in my library so I came to check this one since it’s the closest to my house”

“So did you find it?”

“Yes I did”. He held up a copy of ‘Taming the Shrew’

We continued talking for a while, about books, and then I said, “I would love to see your library someday sir.”

“Oh, you’re welcome anytime, matter of fact, why don’t you come with me now? I would love to show you my collection.”

Since I had nothing to do immediately, I went with him. And that was how it began. The first few times I told myself I was only visiting for his library, and then when I found that we really talked often, I told myself it was merely our mutual love for books, arts and world politics that gave us so much to talk about. Still somehow, and I promise I don’t know how and I certainly didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did. Somehow, I fell in love.

When I discovered the depth of my feelings for him, I stood back and asked myself how it came to that, but what did I expect? I spent so much time with him, and he was kind, compassionate, a good listener, a great teacher and all that. I reminded myself that this was my friend’s grandfather, and so I stayed away. At least I tried, but he wouldn’t let me go. He kept calling and even came to my house a couple of times (Heaven only knows how he got my address; thank God my parents were out of town). I finally decided the best thing to do was to talk about it.

So, one day in his living room, I finally told him why I’d been avoiding him. I told him everything, told him the way I felt about him, dreading his reaction while at the same time hoping it would somehow bring me to my senses. I sat far away from him and I prayed he wouldn’t come near me. I guess he knew I was confused and nervous, and I needed to unburden myself, so he didn’t come near me – yet.

I had a feeling he fancied me, (or how do you explain someone who just won’t stop calling or visiting), but still I hoped he would say something like: “Come on, Bassie! You’re like my granddaughter! You’re Pat’s friend for goodness sakes!” Or something remotely related, but no, he had to tell me he felt the very same way.

Walking towards me and sitting himself beside me, he said: “In fact, since the day I first saw you, I’ve never really been able to get you off my mind”. *sigh* So much for hoping for a voice of reason. We talked at length, and by talk I mean I went on ranting about all the reasons why this was terrible, and he told me, “Please, please don’t try to run away from me, or what you feel. Don’t try to figure it out, l let’s just take this one day at a time and I promise you everything will be ok”.

“But how can you promise that?”

“Everything will be ok, don’t you worry”, he said with a reassuring smile.

I believed him, I trusted him, so I ignored that little nagging feeling at the back of my mind, and I decided to forgo all forms of rational reason. I decided not to think beyond the present and I snuggled closer into his embrace. Besides, what Pat didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

********************************

I cried myself to sleep - again, and when I opened my eyes, I saw the nurse appointed to me. She smiled at me and said: “Oh, you’re up. Your Dad was here a while ago, he needed to get something, but he said he’d be right back.”

“Uhm, is he about six feet tall, golden brown eyes with dimples and gray hair by the sides of his head?”

“Yeah, could I be talking about any other?”

“Oh, ok”.

My parents were out of the country so I knew it couldn’t be my father. They had been begging me to come over for a while, and I would have gone shortly after Pat did, but Oti happened. Besides, the nurse grinned extra when I was giving the description so I knew exactly who she was talking about.

Sure enough, he showed up just a few minutes later, just as the nurse was walking out of the room. “Welcome back sir, I was just telling your daughter that you were here earlier; you’re such a good father, and she’s lucky to have you”. He just smiled and said thanks. I couldn’t even laugh; father, that was manageable, try grandfather.

When I left the hospital, we talked, and he had it all figured out, told me it was going to work out, but I knew Pat would never forgive me, and my parents, well, let’s just say family gatherings would be forever awkward, if we ever got invited at all. I thought long and hard and decided what to do; it wasn’t going to be easy, but I had to do it.

He tried to stop me, tried to tell me we could find another way, but I wouldn’t listen, I needed to leave. My parents were surprised but happy that I decided to change my mind and stay with them. I cried heart-wrenching tears as I packed my bags. He knew I was leaving the next day, and I figured it would be cruel not to say goodbye, so that night he stayed at my place. I wept all night in his arms, and I cried all the way to the airport, I even cried for most of the trip.

It’s been three years now, but I still think about him, every day. How could I not, when I stare into those same golden brown eyes, see that same disarming smile, everyday in my little Jamie? Someday he’ll wonder who his father is, someday he’ll ask. Someday we’ll have to see him again…someday…

One of the best books I've read this year.

darkenedrebel:
Who's reading Chiamanda's new book 'Americana'?

I'll likely put that up later Better yet, you can read it on my blog here: http://thelityard.com/mindless-behaviour-2/

niyot124:
What about the concluding part

Hello everyone. Project Gutenberg is a good site to source free books too, especially the classics. And planetebook.com #Fortheloveofbooks

It was the most relaxing evening; the hammock rocked gently, soft breeze swayed the full green leaves on the big tree to which my hammock was tied, I had a book in hand… I remember that evening well, every little detail, every word that was said; it’s one that I won’t ever forget. The book that I was reading was so intriguing that I was talking to myself at some point: “Dude! She didn’t really mean that! Can you not see at all?” Yea, I’m weird like that.

Anyway, I was so engrossed in the book that I didn’t hear approaching footsteps and suddenly I felt a hand on my head. I almost jumped out of the hammock and my skin. Oti held me back and smiled that smile that I loved so much; it made his dimples appear deeper and he looked so darn cute. “Sorry babe, I didn’t mean to startle you”. He was grinning now, and I couldn’t even keep a straight face.

“I could’ve fallen out of this thing AND I asked you to stop calling me babe; you know why”.

“Well, we’re alone now aren’t we? I can call you babe when we’re alone.” I scowled at him and went back to my reading.

“Bee…?”

I loved it when he called me Bumble Bee or Bee for short. He said it was because I was contagiously bubbly and always buzzing with ideas. It always made me smile.

“Yeah”

“We need to talk. Can you listen for a second?”

“Listening” I said, even though my attention was on the book.

“Babe, you really need to look at me and listen for this one”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Bee, we can’t keep hiding this”

“Hiding what?”

“Hiding us. I think we should let everyone know about us; we don’t have anything to be ashamed of, we love each other. Besides, how much longer do you think we can keep up the hiding?”

I snapped the book shut and turned to him “Uhm, let me refresh your memory…”

“I know, I know, I’ve heard all the reasons why telling everyone would be a bad idea, but Bee, I love you so much; you don’t even know how much I love you, and babe,…” he reached in his pants pocket and brought out a little black velvet box, got down on one knee and my alarm system went off.

I kept saying: “No, no, no, please don’t do that”, but he went ahead and asked

“Please, marry me”. I stood and tried to get out of the hammock while still saying: “No, no, no, no, no, no” Well, that was not a good move, because the last thing I remember was saying: “no, no, nooooo!” and then everything was black.

______________________

Patricia and I were course mates. We didn’t really have much to say to each other at first; we just smiled politely at each other, and as time went on, we occasionally asked each other about our different classes or the latest movies. We really started talking when we both graduated from college. After graduation, we had pretty much nothing to do, so we hung out a lot. Pat was a great girl, so we became quite close after a little while. For two people who had mostly really different interests, we got along surprisingly well. One breezy evening, with our backs to the tree that served as shade in front of my house, we chatted away and somehow got to discussing grandparents.

“Wow, I haven’t seen Grandpa in a while” Pat said.

“Your paternal or maternal grandpa?”

“Maternal”

“I should go see him, you wanna come with?”

“Uhmm, I’m not so sure about my old people skills, but hey, why not?”

“Gramps is not old”

“Yeah right, he’s young-at-heart abi? (I laughed) when are we going to see him?

“Is tomorrow ok?”

“Yeah, sure”

“Great. We’ll leave in the afternoon. If we run late, he’ll have his driver bring us back”.

And so, on that fateful noon, Pat and I went visiting her grandfather. The house was pretty impressive; really nice decor in the living room – that was far as I saw – everything basically reeked of class and old money.

“Girl, I didn’t know your gramps was this rich!”

“Ode, shut up and sit down jor” she laughed and then went up the marble spiral stairway.

She returned minutes later with a middle-aged man on her arm; he couldn’t have been more than 50 – or so I thought. When Pat said: “Bassie, this is gramps, otherwise known as Grandpa O” I didn’t do a great job of concealing the shock. The man looked at me and smiled. He was good looking; I mean, I thought someone with a granddaughter as old as Pat should be way older, probably resting one side of his body on a cane. Ok, Pat wasn’t that old, she was quite young, as was I.

We chatted well into the evening, when it was time to leave, Grandpa O hugged his grandchild, and then kissed his back of my hand, looked directly into my eyes and said: “it was really nice meeting you B”.

“It was nice meeting you too, sir”.

He turned to Pat and told her that his driver would take us home, just as she had predicted.

I could have sworn there was something in Grandpa O’s golden brown eyes when he looked at me; there was something about him that unnerved me a little…

My name is Bassie, at the time, I was 21 years old and I had absolutely no idea what I had just walked face first into…

Mama Rashida’s insistent knocks woke Danny. He turned on his phone to check the time: it was 5:30 am and he knew he would be late if he didn’t hurry. He had planned to wake up earlier to beat the Ikorodu Road traffic, but he had been so tired when he got home the night before. And, he had gratefully wolfed down the big bowl of Eba with okro offered him by Mama Rashida. The woman could be crazy when she wanted her rent, but she was good to Danny, like the mother he didn’t have.

The Eba must have weighed him down because he woke a full hour later than he intended. He bathed and dressed hurriedly, his phone’s torch illuminating his small room. It was a good thing he had picked out his outfit before he went to bed; with the way he was rushing, he would have put on mismatched clothes. He picked up the topmost envelope in a pile beside his bed, and stepped out of the house.

Danny half-ran to the bus stop. There he joined the teeming crowd in the struggle to get a seat on a bus, which was, in the part of the city where he lived, enough a problem to face for one day.

Having finally secured a seat on a bus, he brought out the envelope and read the letter in it again. He could not believe he had finally gotten audience with a publisher, and a well-known one at that. At first, he had thrown the letter in his rejection pile without opening it, thinking it would be the same old story, “Dear Mr. Ibrahim, your work is interesting. Unfortunately, this material is not what we are looking for at this time …” But after a few days, he had picked up the envelope out of curiosity, to know which of the publishers had rejected him this time. Surprisingly, it had been good news. Different news, at least. There were no guarantees, but this publisher didn’t reject his work yet. This one wanted to meet him.

Sending his manuscript to the publishing company was a long shot; after 25 rejections from different publishers, his confidence was not that high. He had started to wonder if he should continue peddling himself as a writer; he was 35, unmarried, and relied on odd jobs and the kindness of his landlady for his rent. He snapped out of his reverie when he heard the bus conductor shout “Lekki Roundabout!”

“Lekki dey o!” he responded and got off the bus as it slowed.

Danny stepped into the office building and thought to himself how unimpressive it was; the walls were a dull green color and there were no pictures or decorations of any kind hanging on them. The office was very clean though. He informed the receptionist of his appointment and was led into a meeting room.

He had only been seating for a few minutes when the meeting room door opened again.

“Hello, Daniel. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” a woman said as she walked towards him. Danny tried to speak but his tongue seemed tied to the bed of his mouth.

[Continued on www.thelityard.com]

Do you have a project that requires editing? A finished or unfinished book manuscript? A brochure, pamphlet, newsletters, articles, thesis/dissertation, letters? Do you need another set of eyes to look through or a pen to polish your words to a good shine? You’ve come to the right place! We provide a range of editing services at affordable prices; let's talk!

Send a mail to: lityard@outlook.com, or visit www.thelityard.com/editing-services