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Ade's Journal Part 6

Ade's Journal Part 6
My Valentine & The Elegance Of A Clean Breakup

Ade's Journal Part 5

Ade's Journal Part 5
My Scrumptious Valentine Kiss

Ade's Journal Part 4

Ade's Journal Part 4
A Scorpion is not a Lobster

Ade's Journal Part 3

Ade's Journal Part 3
My Insane Week Before Valentine

Ade's Journal Part 2

Ade's Journal Part 2
He Had The Guts To Come Back

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Friday, 12 February 2016

My Scrumptious Valentine Kiss


Screeching into a halt, all I thought I knew was all gone. I feel like I'm a hive of simmering killer bees forced out from protection from my comfort zone, pushed to sting and defend, strike and then sting again. Unlike innocent bees, i have evolved into one mighty force ready to decimate all....

...The people I trust and have trusted. Unfortunately, Khadijatu is in my line of sight. All I want to do is bury my many stingers into her silly head and make her toss herself across the room but....

I wait, and repeat the question.
'Are you saying you slept with Frank?'
I had to ask. Because I was no longer that naive girl, believing my best friend can't betray me. Hhhmf, I know better.

Na today.

Anyone can betray anyone, even twins that shared the same room in their mothers womb. I was shaking, I might have put up a bold face but I was scared. Not that I could do anything about it, if it was true but....

I digress.

I heard her first before I realized what I was doing. My nails were digging into her arm, hurting her. So I let go and tucked my hands safely away to my chest. Rocking my body, I waited.
She sat down and massaged her forehead.
'We kissed....:
'...And'.. I didn't let her land.
'I stopped it before....'
I hissed and smacked my lips together, nonsense and ingredients.
She touched me and asked, ' you don't mind?'
I flared up and shouted at her.
'Your head no correct, how I no go mind?'
She let go because I was shouting.

'Abeg lets go jare.. See, nothing you say can shock me right now. You  slept with him, you didn't sleep with him, oho de...'.

Yes i was fed up but like they say, life goes on.
'....Me, I want to enjoy my party. Or you've changed your mind about attending?'
 She hesitated a bit then added, 'I still want to go o'
'Good, lets just go and get ready, I don't want to be late'
Khadijatu followed me like a sad little puppy, and I marched forward, in front of her like a toothless bulldog.

See life.

Look, I can cry and cause a scene but how will this day end? Hehn. Me angry, my day ruined and my boo, Mr. H asking where my best friend is. I need to just enjoy the rest of the day, free of Frank.
Khadijatu talked and tried to catch up as I approached my car.
‘I swear, Ade, it didn’t go further than a kiss', details I did not care for.
 I reassured my friend that I was fine and if she brought it up again. My voice had increased a little too loud again.

'I would go back into the ice cream palour buy a large bucket and cry all evening'.
I meant it, and she knew i was serious, Case closed. Kilode, I have tried, this very day, to keep my head up and no one and I mean no one is ending my quest.

The ride home was quiet and big surprise when I got home, there was no light. Can't this my home land just give me a break? So, my evening ritual after work commences. Khadijatu helped me pour petrol into the generator and we took turns pulling and trying to start the archaic generator. Eventually the noisy generator came to life and supplied electricity to my home. Phew, i was exhausted from expending all that energy and hot. As we entered my rented two bedroom flat, I opened my freezer, the only place with cold drinking bottled water  I grabbed a small bottle and drank. Is it just me or does water taste really delicious when you're thirsty.
Anyho', got to get going. As I showered I tried to understand my self, asked my reflection in the mirror, why I was not reacting. Nothing, no answer came to my bland mind. Maybe I was still in shock. As my friend and I both applied light make up, we tried not to bump into each other.
 Mr. H sent his driver, which was a huge relief. I was tired of driving my 'Judas iscariot friend' all around town.

 Mr. H was a perfect gentleman, waited at the gate of Muson center and ushered us in. We hugged and he gave me a peck. His moustache tickled and I giggled.
‘You are so cute when you giggle', he told me in that voice. Mmh, that voice. A friend of his showed up, I suspect Khadijatu’s date and my man switched to hausa. Mmm that diction, the way his voice swirls around languages, sexy. Mr. H whispered in my ear, what was wrong with Khadijatu and I said, ‘nothing’.

I quickly grabbed my friend and held her back.
‘Unless you enjoy your single life, better losen up'
She faked a laugh and I gave her a side eye, she stopped. Mr. H took me round and I met ambassedors and NGO patrons, people with community outreach programs that empowered youths. Don’t judge me o, before now, I didn’t know one NGO or anyone who worked with one. I did give old clothes and donate money to church but I was never involved. Now, I had at least five invitations, opportunities to become a volunteer. I was happy, this was exactly what I needed. Khadijatu was whisked away by her date, so I had alone time with Mr. H.

I smiled so much, my cheeks ached. Mr. H held my hand, his hands were soft and he looked in my eyes.
‘Are you alright?’
Shocking that he had noticed, I wanted to speak when he shook his head softly. I started to protest when he laughed.
‘Its not funny', I grumbled.
‘He will try, who will have such a passionate woman and let her go?’
‘But he is….’
‘…Desperate and in denial… Just try to relax’
‘I am, its just that Khadijatu's revelation about their kiss hurt. I thought we could tell each other everything but….’
‘….The heart wants, what it wants…’, he didn't act surprised. Experience maybe or his way of keeping me calm.

‘How did you know?’
‘You have a ‘Frank just called look', he said, folded his arms across his chest and moved back a bit.
I laughed.
‘Is it a bad thing?’
‘No, the day you look happy he called, then I’ve lost you', he leaned forward.
‘No way I’d ever go back', I held his soft dark face with the well shaped beard. My Mr. H is fiiiinnnne, he is….
 Distracted, what is he getting from under the table? He handed me a rose and I laughed and screeched.

‘Sweetheart, no one has ever given me a rose before'. I beamed and glowed as I scrutinized the massive red rose.

Well yes, its my first real rose. I mean, a real rose, I mean. I've been given a perfume bottle in the shape of a rose, that was from the first guy that proposed and he tried, he added a cheap teddy bear. Can you just imagine? I, on the other hand, had gone out of my way to Victoria Island from school risking my life and spent my months feeding money, ten times the money he spent on all his gifts to get him a cake. Did I have money? No, did he appreciate it? No. He expected more. I know I sound horrible, don’t pretend that, just a rose, or cheap gifts are enough for Valantine. Oh well, now I feel guilty. Did I mention that my former boyfriend was cheap because there was another girl he bought gifts on Valantine Day, in the same university, on the same campus. So, abeg, don't judge me.

Back to my wonderful time with Mr. H, jare. I inhaled the scent, of the real rose, it was relaxing. I had this strange need to want to taste the petals. Weird, right?
Mr. H smiled and handed me a gift pack wrapped in a bow a purple bow not pink, thank God. I opened it and almost passed out, they looked real but then I wouldn’t know. It was a pearl necklace and dropping earrings.
Correct, the man is perfect.
I could not contain my excitement, as he put it around my neck I knew I was loved. It’s the one gift I’ve dreamed of all my life and now it was real.

Judge me well, well, because I know what you are thinking.

‘I don’t need expensive gifts to be loved', I twisted my voice to sound like a child and laughed.

'Dey there, dey deceive yourself. If he isn’t spending it on you, he has spare change to spend on others’

I bit onto my fingers briefly and remembered that I just painted my nails and stopped.

‘If you like, try to spoil my date with silly talks like, he earns enough to buy ten of these. My dear, it’s the thoughts that count'
And my thoughts right now is, I want to wear expensive things. I have dated people without cash, with little and I have suffered. Not everyone wants a rich guy, but this babe does. Its my choice. I have wanted it all my life but I was afraid of how you see me. Now, I don’t give a hoot.

'If you like, we can end the night with me cooking for you', Mr. H added.

I laughed. I must really sound razz to him because no man and I repeat it, no man has ever cooked for me.
'Why?', I didn't know I asked out loud and his answer....
'Because until I make ogbono soup for you, you haven’t really enjoyed it'.

I was laughing so hard i fell forward and started looking forward to a home cooked meal.
‘Ade, you are a hopeless romantic'
‘I am not', I protested.
‘Don’t worry your secrets safe with me, I am too, or you prefer the tough guy...'
‘I am loving all of this and you my sweetheart..’
‘So, what’s your idea of a perfect Valentine?’, Mr. H surprised me with the question.

I paused for a while, I had not had many, in fact I've only had three.
‘The usual, movies, dinner and pictures... Wow, I've never seen  Mr. H in shock before, he could not believe his ears. Have I had the worse boyfriends on earth?

‘Even as a struggling young man, I was creative. Saved money long before, learned to cook to save cost, made custom clothes, wooden hand made jewelry, everything to make it memorable'
'And your Valentine?', I quickly asked.
'Many tried but….'
'Many, wow..'
'You know what I mean'
I laughed, na die I dey. He has given me a big task to accomplish, phones perfumes and clothes wont cut it.

Khadijatu and her date joined us laughing, her date was happy and couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
'We are moving this party to Bala’s house...', an old friend of theirs. Mr. H declined and held my hand, he declared he was making me ogbono soup, so I was going nowhere. Khadijatu hugged me and I hugged her, she whispered she was sorry and I told her its fine she should be herself and have fun.

In the car with Mr. H, I started to get nervous. I really care about him but I was in no mood to sleep with him. I shivered, not because I was scared but because I didn’t trust myself, alone with him. As the driver said goodbye, I watched him leave and waved goodbye. Mr. H led me into the house, got rid of his blazer and washed his hands. He started to tell me about his childhood and I almost died of laughter. All the beating his mother gave him for burning her food and the final straw was when he eat his father’s piece of meat. The last one in the ogbono soup she prepared for the family. His dad came home late after a hard day at work and opened his plate of food, his mother pointed at the culprit and for the first and last time he received the real autentic beating of his life. He learned not to take what was not his the hard way the only way.
Mr. H didn’t strike me like someone who had ever been beaten or has ever lived poor. He gisted me about his up and down relationship with poverty until he became obsessed with billionaires and their habits. He was not yet one but he was living fine.
We eat and washed the plate together, I noticed the dish washer and asked why we didn’t use it. A tad bit too soon, because I had no idea how it worked.
The electricity bill would skyrocket, he answered and we both laughed. He admitted he wanted to spend more time with me, that’s why he didn’t go all tech with me. We laughed and flirted and I suspected what was going to happen, so I lied and said my phone was ringing. And started to dash into the living room when
Mr. H stopped me and in a swift action, I was in his arms. I watched his eyes and face.

'Will you be my Scrumptious Valentine?', it was a serious question and I smiled and threw my hand around his thick neck.

I was in a dance move position like he was going to spin me around and stopped.

'Yes', I giggled and we kissed, it was light and innocent. And then started to get intense, I stopped and he stopped. He understood and we both left the wall and he smiled.
'Let me let you relax a bit and then I'll drive you home'

I was impressed, he told me because he was traditional when it came to dating. But if he was too slow to act, I could always tell him and he's speed things up. I rested in his arms and we both relaxed in his massive couch.

I was falling asleep or asleep when my phone rang. I jolted out of my couch and picked it up. Not sure if I was awake or Dreaming, I asked who it was.
I mumbled and said a lot and recognized Franks voice. Imagine he wanted to know where i was because i was not at home, stalker.

Orisirisi, all sorts.

He continued to talk and i realized i was still on the phone, communicating with him when i stopped. And then insisted he shouldn't call me again and cut the phone. Wide awake and peeved, I was still pacing up and down the room when I looked up.

Mr. H was in shock and just stared at me, I was a little confused and then realized where I was.

Mr. H dropped his glass of red wine and sat opposite me. I sat down and watched him. Not sure what to do or how much he heard.

So, you almost kissed Frank or you did, which is it?

Wait, what? When did I say that?
You didn't tell me he was in your office....
Yes but....
What else are you hiding from me?

**Season 1, Episode 5** ***COPYRIGHT 2016 'ADE'S JOURNAL' (P5)***

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  1. nice one! Needs some proofreading

  2. nice one! Needs some proofreading

  3. Thanks Mikail, done it, and i am happy you love it.

  4. Okay, when your friend claims it was just a kiss and you know she's lying. What do you say?


Adebusola Ukayat Elegbede is a Playwright and Content creator with a passion for real life challenges. Born in Kaduna state and lives in Lagos Nigeria, she has a passion for story telling from the perspectives of characters in conflicting situations. I started out on the New Writing Project in Nigeria with the British Council Lagos Nigeria and The Royal Court Theatre, Sloane Square U.K. My passion for creating stories led to comic books, television drama's and an online journal on my website (busolaelegbede.com). As part of the WPIC in Stockholm Sweden 2012, the experience has forged life long friends and ignited my passion as a volunteer and advocate for human rights and the United Nations 17 Sustainable Development Goals.

Follow @Busola Elegbede