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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, 10 November 2017

Silhouette Of A Ghost Ship


  The anchor rams into the floor in disarray and as it does, it shifts sand that is in perfect unison with themselves. Shoved, grinded and shaved into almost identical sizes as they line the sea bed and lie in wait for something to happen. Hollow bones and empty shells crush under the weight of the symbol that has been used since time immemorial. This heavy metal digs deep into the ground and yanks at the chain that latches it to a ship, high above the water. It coughs and sinks deeper under the weight of the floating burden until it finds a resting place, deep enough for it to rest on its side as its claws to sink in. The ship comes to a halt as the anchor stares at the adjacent ship hovering above.
Unsure of why or how long it has been chained to the massive burden, the anchor knew it was time. The chains had wounds that cut deep and had made the hold on it less attached than it was. So I do the logical thing and pull at it hard and hope that it snaps. Instead it just hangs and almost gets unhinged but that's about all it did. Yes, it is time to do more than hope. It's time to just more than help and pray the trouble will go away. The time to do something is now and as my headache piles on and intensifies... I shove at the chain and jerk and watch it almost get detached. I do it again and again and then my excitement starts to wane. Maybe this is my fate, to be tossed into the ocean with the hope that after I am dragged for a while then I'd stop.
 Unfortunately for me, that is not me. Me, I choose to stop this stupid headache inducing routine. So I pull at the chains and grip it tight and then I flipped it like I was trying to form a loop and turn the chain into a skipping rope deep in the depths of the sea. It works and flips twice and then I am free. I am no longer chained to that boring old ship. I celebrate my victory and then to my dismay I hear bubbles behind me. Slowly I turn around to the source of my fear and confirm my woes. A diver has just found me and in its hand, inching towards me. A shining new stronger chain, and latches it on tight and then chained it to me. I watch as I am hoisted up and out of the water into a terrifying new reality. I hear them talk about how I will be refurbished and chained to another ship. I just hope this time the relationship is worth it...
    I just described how Khadijatu makes me feel, the more I run the more she comes and finds me. Her innocent daughter hops and scuttled around me, chewing with her mouth open as she does and I just sigh and return my gaze back to her treacherous mother. You cannot imagine my disdain for this woman. I mean talk about unfair wickedness. The horrid person she is, introduced me to a man she was actively sleeping with and helped us plan our wedding. Who does that?
And worse of all she knew he was already married. This woman that pretended to be my best friend for two years and put soapy foam not icing on my cake and then got pregnant and married him.
Life isn't all that cruel, she got as much as she shelled out. Of course he did what he always does and abandoned her and who did she come running to?
Me. I should never have helped her because the job I got for her in far away Abuja didn't stick. Well, it did for almost a year but here she is again, asking for my help.
Am I supposed to always jump when she needs help?
Honestly speaking, I want to call the police and lock her up for harassment. Yes she has been calling and leaving messages and I've blocked her line. But again, here she is. I refused to let her into my office, the security men have her, Frank and his new fiance's pictures. People that will be arrested if they ever get on any of my properties. As they should for stalking me endlessly but I know she has no idea I have a restraining order against her.
So this isn't naive me, pitying her daughter alone. This is me doing what I envisaged should happen. I just knew that she would show up and try to milk the situation but don't worry, I am prepared.
   I hand her a copy of the restraining order and attached to it, the other two culprits.

 Did she even care?

     No o, instead she is staring at Frank's fiance and has the guts to make a stupid snide comment.
'He has his type you know, elite and very prim and proper. At least to the world, the stupid pretender...'
 I did not dignify the errant gossip with an answer. Even though I believe that's exactly how she felt about me when I thought we were friends.
'Not that you appear to be like that, you are the real deal. But this woman...', she adds as if I care.
'....I only came here because your daughter looks malnourished. I am not your ATM. And you can not just show up and expect me to cough out money, I have none to give. If you can't go back to all the links I gave you before you left for Abuja. Then don't show up...'
She stops me from walking away and the angry look I gave her filthy hand made her let go of me.
'....I wanted to know if it was okay to get in touch with the NGO's you gave me'
'It is they are there to support, I have a meeting...', I started to say.
'Congrats Ade, I always knew you were going to make it big. If only I had been a true friend, then we would be on your show together...'
 The nerve of this bitch.
'Goodbye Khadijatu', I say with all seriousness.
I was not going to be nice if ever there was a next time and she knew it.
'I am so sorry for everything and may God keep you and your babies safe, and Henrik of course'
Anyway I didn't want to hear anything from her, she was a liar and a deceptive person.
 Her daughter was jumping on all chairs and laughing innocently and just having fun.
   Khadijatu snapped at her daughter and pulled her hair. I really didn't expect her to be nasty to the innocent child. But that's life, every action has its consequences and if we are not careful. It gets worse and as expected, she was only nice until she gets what she wants. I give her a look and she smooths the child's hair and feigned been nice to her. In that instant I got worried, I hope she isn't abusing the child. The good thing about the NGO she is going back to is that they cater to the needs of special needs children. And if any abuse is detected they will act. I look away and bow my head, yes it still shocks me that all the memories we shared was not real. Not even one, life is such a cruel teacher. The best Ivan do is shake it all off.


 Back to my second home, my happy place and work station. My hardworking staff of two were thrilled and happy with our bonuses. There was much to do end of this month with me expecting and Ashabi getting married. Too much had to be sorted out and fast.
     Mr. H was happy with our work and us infusing him into our show but he had a problem. Baratu was not going to let her child on the show without her in the picture. I did not expect his child on the show, so this call from him surprised me. But anything can happen and it's always better to be prepared. So I tell him we will prepare a document that has to have both signatories on, to allow any footage of their child on the show.
Of course it was Baratu's way of trying to sneak herself on the show. Which made me laugh and the funniest part was as we were still laughing about how ridiculous she was. She moved in, I mean back into Mr. H's house while we were still talking on the phone. It was not funny and Mr. H left all his manners out of the door as they exchanged unpleasant words.
 I get off the phone and decide to call his cousin, my best friend.

    Celine too is moving back in with her man and has declared she is having the baby in his house. Pierre tries to explain to me that she is paranoid and playing into his ex wife's hands. Celine cuts in and reminds me that they are still married.
''Because she won't sign the divorce papers', Celine snapped and massaged her throbbing forehead.
Pierre was red and furious and I could see the baby doing a flip on Celine's belly. We both try to calm the crying mother down as Pierre whispered inaudibly.
 He dared not let her hear him or that to would become another reason for her to get upset. She falls asleep and then I spend another half hour trying to calm him down. This was a real trying time for both of them and his wife was actually trying to get custody of his girls. They didn't like her much but she was still their mother. He was looking forward to Ajoke's visit and the twins and I did feel a pang of jealousy. I missed traveling, I cannot lie.

 A surprise knock on my door and my P.A. says I have a visitor. I cannot even begin to guess who, when she tells me it's Ashabi.
I don't think she has ever been in my office before. Her extremely high heels scared me and she looked like she was going for a photoshoot in her bum khaki shorts and tucked in matching gray button down shirt cuffed shirt. The buttons were exposing Beautiful perky boobs or should I say cleavage. It made me miss mine. Now, this pregnant my boobs were massive. I know I used to joke I would get a boob job but that was way back in my university days.
 Now, I'm actually afraid these twins growing in me will make my breasts bigger than I want them.
Ajoke and Ashabi were naturally slender dark beauties. They could wear anything and had full small boobs. Ashabi had longer legs and was more into showing them than her big sister ever did.
'To what do I owe this honor?', I ask one of my major investor and dear friend.
We air kiss and she swings a limited edition bag on my desk. I gasp, I swear I didn't mean to. But at that price, I had to.
'I know, we each get another one once my show takes off', She bragged and then collapsed into the couch.
'Chuks wants babies now, but he has to understand I'm not as old as you and Ajoke', she grumbled.
'Let Ajoke hear you', I warned her. She had this childish habit of calling everyone a minute older... Old.
'You already installed the cameras', she adds searching the room.
'Most of it', I joked.
'I told him in five years', she was referring to having babies for Chuks.
'Wont he be ninety by then', I complained as I calculate her husband's age.
'He can't rush me because he is old. It's not my fault I am young and fabulous'
'Abeg save this for the show', I beg her.
'That's another thing, it is my show not Nnoye's'
'They will overlap', I tried to be diplomatic.
'Then she can buy her own designer bags, I hear she can't afford..'
 I stand up.
'Abeg Ashabi, save all this for end of the month'
'Okay, when are your crew coming in?'
'I thought you don't have a house...', they were house shopping.
'I found one on Banana Island'
 She had to out perform her sister, the husband may not live long to even get her pregnant at this rate.
 Ashabi was laughing.
'I know what you are thinking, if you don't want the show to be boring... Ade, speak your mind'
'I will practice what I preach', I try to reassure her.
'Anyway, I want you and Celine to design clothes for my wedding. Ajoke will get the fabric when she travels and I've ordered our shoes and bags'
'Thanks dear'
'Please, you ladies inspire me always. Just do anything and I will out do you all'
 Ashabi laughs hard at her own joke and I join her briefly.

 I hope we all still remain friends after this show. 

 Life is truly a test of our resilience and strength of character.

**"ADE'S JOURNAL" Season 2 Episode 78**
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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