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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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Wednesday, 6 September 2017

Jagged Edged Your Penciled Words Stick


  Forged in the earth, millions of years ago. Gray black and silver, the thick carbon mass danced and merged with natural elements. I carefully filed and shaped it into a cylindrical stick that would find a home inside a wooden home with a hollow core. As it rests, it is shives hard into place and waits to find its use in this strange world.
  Just like me, I wait and pause as if waiting for my purpose. Then it hits me, the image of this modern dragon. I see the creature and jump upright from my tired position. The words from the television set speaks, but I hear nothing. I just watch the Seven hundred tonnes of wonder, float and sway. It opens its mouth and flicks sideways eyes that glow like a serpent sizing up its prey. In this instance, I grab the pencil with graphite in it and begin to sketch. Nothing else mattered, not the twins fighting and jabbing for space inside me. Or the bills that have quadrupled in this time they claim that we are out of recession. Passionate about the pencil drawing taking shape, I scribble and draw until my soul lights up. And just as I start to emphasize the strokes on the jagged edges horizon of fangs. I hear a knock on the door...
      It's one of those sounds that shakes you back home into reality. I am peeved, no I am mad as hell. Why  would she have the Guts to come to my parents home. Uninvited for that matter, what is she after?
 I swear to God who made me, I will burn every bridge I have with the culprit or culprits. I ask a little too loud who invited her and the psycho had the guts to feign ignorance. As if she didn't some weeks back, try to ram me off the road. I take deep breaths and count to twelve. A little too fast and so I do it again and try to steady my pacing heart.
'She wants to buy a car', my brother announced as if afraid I might do something.
Maybe afraid my babies would drop any minute from now.
'He did', she adds and points at my brother's colleague from work.
My mom placed her warm hands on my cold back and I turn swiftly towards her.
'Mumm its Frank's wife...'
'Why, eh, eh, eh. Ni bo? Not in my house. What do you want?'
 My mother was hostile and angry and I fold my arms across my chest.
 Poor Raymond, my brother's friend was in shock.
'I had no idea...'
'... Technically, we are not yet married', she tried to say.
'What do you want?'
'I thought I heard you had your babies', she said sounding dumb and annoying.
'Frank didn't come home, so I had to be sure he was not here'
 Raymond ushered her towards the gate and I didn't move.
'That man is trouble, I see now why you left him. He will never change. Do you have Khadijatu's number?"
 I didn't dignity her question with an answer. And then I noticed it on my phone, that annoying notification you get on your feed from people you are no longer friends with.
'Is that him?'
 I just point at the exit and hand Henrik my phone. As the gate closed and obscured her insecure views from ours. My mother called security and informs them she is a stalker.
   When people say that your relationship breaks or uplifts you. They were not kidding and then Henrik taps me.
'Is this for real?'
'Yep, Frank is in Abuja with Khadijatu. His entire Sallah feast was there'
'I thought you were no longer friends vwith Khadijatu on Facebook'
'Part of the problem with social media is that it's too public. Yes, we are no longer friends but my other roommate from the university and I are still friends'
'I will adjust my settings and block all notifications on her'
'Don't you think she will still buy the car from Raymond?'
'That girl likes to show off, she will probably buy three'
  We laughed and Raymond was relieved, the poor boy had not sold a car in months.
  The rest of the day went well and we had the best of times.

  Back to what I picked up a hobby I had once relished and enjoyed. I got a call from a number I recognized and yes it was her. Not the psycho, but the Ruth abokoku.
My old and no longer my friend, Khadijatu. I refused to pick up and then she sends me a text. That was not what we agreed, I think it's harder for others and easy for me.
 I read it and shake my head, Henrik hugs me from behind and reads along with me.
It's good wishes and a kind prayer for me. And a subtle Thanksgiving that he has acknowledged his daughter. Even though she has special needs and she also admits to luring him around with exaggerated tales of her earnings and success. My former friend says, she is now one of those confirmed Abuja girls home videos show all the time. Tied to irresponsible golddigging men.
'So why do you think he is back to her?'
 Henrik's question was legit and I paused before I answered.
'Even a beggar has a choice, Khadijatu is easy. That control freak that crashed my parents home is a complete psycho'
'He would definitely need a break from them', I add and laugh.
'I will be back', Henrik gives me a peck on my forehead and I smile.

   Alone there was only one thing to do, as I pick up the leather bound paper. I watch sheepishly the television, not to listen or learn. But to enjoy the classical music in the background as the majestic beasts dive slowly and rise from the Lagoon. The crocodile was deep green like algea and the bark of an old tree. I draw and tilt my head, I miss the feeling as it begins to take shape.

   I know life is beautiful, there will be chaos and betrayals. Also there will be people who renew my hope in humanity. I take it all, good and bad. Because it has shaped me to become this massive force with all her flaws.

  The best is yet to come and sadly, the worse.....

**"ADE'S JOURNAL", 59**
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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