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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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Tuesday, 10 July 2018

The Rug Literarily Moved


         The rains stopped as quickly as they began and I watched my brother tell me it was gone. All my savings from all the humiliation I have endured has disappeared. My gullible naive brother invested with Stan, our dubious neighbor. I want to scream and tell my idiotic brother how stupid he is, but I too feel stupid.
 I've had a baby for a narcissistic man that won't let me see my child, unless Ade touches his stone cold heart. Ade, my best friend won't ever completely trust me because the man was always hers. 
   All that pales in comparison now, the worst has happened. My upfront for my show, my savings everything is gone. I want to break the bottle and go next door and kill him. 
   Instead, I March there and kick open the door, his useless mother with her faux smile greets me. 
Who greets a neighbor who just broke into your house? 
   My plan was to scream and cry and kill but then I see it. The couture rug I bought in Paris with my friends, the first official trip that solidified our friendship was underneath their old decaying center table. The woman looked at it, in horror. As if realizing, for the first time that I knew it was mine. I clapped my hands like a typical west African woman and insist they roll it up and move it. I did not stop there, I state it's price and value and how much it cost to ship it into the country. The son and mother awkardly and move with urgency towards my house and I let them in. They set it back on the floor of the house my mother stays that still has my name on it. And as they do, i reign abuses at them. 
  They promise to return the money they tricked my brother into investing and I spot, the six layer pearls she has on. Even Ade didn't have jewelry this expensive, maybe all her pearls put together would make this one piece. And I mean the pearls Ade bought herself and gifts to herself and from her suitors. 
   I definetely would not sell it, I will wear it for the premier of my show.
 I lock my door and stretched out my hands and the mother of this crook has the ordercity to shake her head. I bring out my phone and my brother stands behind her. Only then, does she reluctantly remove it and then I point at the brothers Rolex. Trust me, I sharp like that. The dubious son did not argue, instead he promised to bring the casing and certificates if I wave it off what he owes. It's better than nothing, I say and then I unlock the door, I will sell the limited edition to my brother's friend cash down and only in dollars. The cash should cushion my spending until I find another generous mugu toaster.
 This writing of a journal thing, is hard. And I just wonder if Ade ever worries that someday, someone else will read her private thoughts. Because, I do not want these my friends to know how hard it is to keep up with their rich spoilt lifestyles. Lord have mercy.....
       The rains started, the earth under me wobbles and shakes and the cloud and the river Niger become one. This my trip back to Lagos is fast, as in we got to Lokoja in two hours. Bless people for not traveling today, the road is free.        My heart leaps, jumps and I was shiver and choke at the same time, as if it's my first time on the road when heavy rain falls. Blame my fear on the many broken down trucks with stumps of grass as their indicator and caution sign. And the many upturned trucks that attempted to convey containers to Lagos on the pot hole filed road. Yes there were good stretches of road but there was also badly maintained roads.
 At some point I got scared of avalanches from half excavated asphalt hills and clay hills. I just wanted to be far from these potential disasters.

    If you have not guessed well, I am on my way back to Lagos and reading a scanned copy of Nnoye's journal. It's a lot like she tries too hard to mirror and blame me for everything. And has a lot of financial tumoil, rise and crash of every business she has embarked on. I had no clue that she lost it all and no clue that it was this tough for her. She knew how to raise capital but could never ever get any return on her investment. Always raising funds only to spend. It was a huge contrast to my own goals and a little bit odd.

 How did I get my Nnoye's journal? 

   As usual, I had to be the last person she sees before traveling.
 So she showed up uninvited and hugging her bag as if she had diamonds in it and then received a call before I traveled. 
   I didn't touch the bag, it fell and the page opened. I saw my name and the mention of my pearls and raised my phone and took scanned pictures of as many pages as I could. Then returned it and placed it as if it was about to fall.
 I think she remembered and raced back into my office and then the bag fell Again, revealing the journal. She scrambled and tucked all its contents back in and stared at me. 
 Trust me, I was taking selfies and smiling and pouting my lips.
'At least you are having fun'
'Join me', I say and she did clutching onto the bag.
'Send me a copy for Facebook'
 I nod my head and do.
'Ade abeg that picture of me is bad, let's take another'
 I pose with her and we do take several, until she gets the shot where she looks like a super model in a professional photoshoot. Nnoye uploads it gets plenty likes, I was too busy trying to imagine what was in her journal. I always lock mine in a safe nowadays, just not down important facts I will add to ADE'S JOURNAL once I'm home.
Nnoye wanted to travel with me, but I declined. And thank God I did, I'm seeing a different side of her. She's as superficial as I expected but why she still blames me for her fall out with Daniel Ojora, in my own opinion is juvenile.
 My phone is ringing, the bus drove from Lokoja to Ibillo in Edo state and the Ajoko in Ondo state and then to Osun state. It has been almost ten hours and I have now just left Ogun state, the border state to Lagos. Berger is a minute away and Ajoke is calling me, she always puts a smile on my face. Always adventure seeking, outfit hunting, jewelry prowling, skin health searching and a chronic food enthusiast, it was pure joy to see her name pop up on my phone.
'Where are you?'
'Great you are back, some loser is claiming to have borrowed Nnoye money'
'Says his mother and Nnoye's mother are neighbors'
 I chuckled.
'Does she not get paid per Episode?'
'Ajoke, she does'
'You know something I don't?'
'Abegi oooo, no be from my mouth you hear am oooo'
'I am in Ikeja, abeg drop and take Uber to me'
'That ice cream place?'
'Yes, I was going to bring it to you. But this I must hear'
'Relax, no gist'
'Ade, I know you'
'is that Hassan?'
'Hussein says I should put another baby in my stomach'
'So that I buy more ice cream for them, like his friends house that they are four'
 I laughed.
'So I am shopping for his sister that has not yet come'
 I shake my head.
'Add my own'
It was a relief to step out of the bus after almost eleven hours, the road trip from Abuja to Lagos was over. 
As I was about to get an Uber, I hear Ajoke screeching.
She was with Hussein who did not look up from his ice cream cup.
I step in and we hug.
'You look fresh'
'The air conditioning unit was on throughout'
'Good, oya gist me', Ajoke adds impatiently.
 I hand it over to Ajoke and Hussein rests his tiny head on my limb. I rest my head backwards and knocked out.

   As in, The Rug Literarily Moved. Everything you thinks that's hidden always comes out in the end....


**"ADE'S JOURNAL", Season 3, Episode 42**

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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