APARTMENT 7 EPISODE 8 ARISHA I sit down on the cushioned sofa and wait for Lydia to stop screaming, and she does in the next instant. “I am so happy you came to visit,” she says, taking the next sofa. “I was going out of my mind with boredom.” “I was bored at the apartment too,” I tell her with a shrug. Lydia fans herself with her right hand, looking around the small living room with faded blue walls, white linen curtains tied to a knot at the ends, a flat screen television sitting on a wooden stand, several colour portraits of people I think are her family members, and a small altar where a small sized statue of Mary is sitting. “The place is just too hot,” Lydia says, leaving her seat to walk to the window. “It makes me wonder if the ozone layer still exists.” I nod in agreement. “The heat has been terrible.” Lydia twists the curtains and push them between the iron bars of the burglary proof on the window, filling the living room with light. One hand still holding on to the curtains, she looks back at me. “Better?” I wait and try to feel moving air. When nothing happens, I shake my head at her and tell her not to worry. “Times like these, you expect PHCN to be more understanding,” Lydia says, walking back to me. “But no, they just go ahead and cut off power supply.” We spend time discussing the epileptic power situation in the country, the sudden heat in Abuja, and then move on to the activities of the past week at the compatriot before Lydia decides to go personal. “You said you had a date with Andy last night…how did it go?” I sigh and begin to toy with the large hoop dangling from my right ear. “Too fast.” Lydia gives me a queer look. “The date went too fast? What does that mean?” I leave my earrings and cross my legs. “We went to his apartment.” “Hmmm,” Lydia says, wriggling her brows. “Something happened?” I uncross my legs again and shake my head. “No.” Memories of a clumsy kiss, an uncomfortable groping, and hastily offered apologies come back to me. “We…erm…kissed.” Lydia claps in glee, pleased with my announcement. “Su-weet!” I shake my head and make a face. “No, not sweet. It was too fast,” I complain, frowning harder. “And he caught me by surprise.” “Uh oh,” Lydia says, lowering her hands. “Sorry.” “I think I should not have gone with him to his house.” “And he seems like such a nice guy.” I release my facial muscles from my tight frown and sigh. “He is a nice guy. I just think we need to take things slow.” Lydia nods in understanding. “True.” “He says he likes me and wants a relationship with me.” Lydia almost begins her clapping again but my lack of excitement stops her on time. She settles for expressing sympathy. “Eh ya.” “I told him to give me time.” “Okay.” We fall silent for some minutes, listening to the sounds of pedestrian and vehicular activity coming from the street beside the house. Lydia breaks the silence when she asks if I am going to see Andy again. “Yes.” “Good. I think you should just give him another chance. Meanwhile…..” Lydia has her own problems. A young man who has been friends with her from childhood wants more than a platonic friendship. “But he is yet to get a good job…” A rich government contractor twice her age who has promised her a job at NNPC and an apartment of her own is vying for her attention. “He is so rich,” Lydia says with a long sigh. “I feel like dating him is going to change things for me.” I choose the young jobless man, and Lydia’s face softens but she doesnt look convinced. “After love, what else?” she asks me with a sad look. “You know the saying….when poverty comes through the door, love flies through the window.” “Circumstances change.” Lydia promises to think about it. “I probably should act like you and not rush anything.” I remember the editors’ meeting two days ago. “So did you find out anything about the meeting at the paper yesterday?” We had spoken over the phone the previous night about the meeting with Lydia promising to find out what the meeting was about from her uncle who is also an editor at the paper. “I heard it was about the scandal involving the mint...you know the one where our money is produced. I do, I tell, Lydia with a nod, eager to hear the rest of the story, but Lydia looks as if she has nothing more to tell me as she shakes her head at me. I dont know much about the case but I think some government officials are being accused of doing shady deals with some foreigners. Okay. It is really a big find. My uncle says the paper broke the news first. They must have contacts at the mint. Lydia shrugs, looking unconcerned. Maybe. Standing up and pulling down her short jeans skirt down, she says something about a packet of juice in her fridge. I was so excited to see you, I forgot my manners. She begins to walk to one of the doors at the end of the room. Let me get you a glass. I watch her go and then turn to look at the window. Outside, the clouds have cast an abnormal orange glow over the earth. I consult my wristwatch. Five o clock. Only one thing can explain the colour of the sky. Rain. ******************************* LADI Uncle Hassans phone is propped between his shoulder and his ear as he peers over the top of his reading glasses at the paper in his hand. Hmmm....yes...okay. He listens some more, thanks his caller and ends the call. So Ladi, Uncle Hassan says, dropping his phone on the table and slipping off his glasses. We are in the clear for now. I smile and push up in my seat. Great news. I remember seeing a newspaper headline about a possible senate probe on my way to work this morning. I stop smiling. But what about the senate probe?” “What about it?” “What if the company is called up?” Uncle Hassan taps his chin with the tip of the earpiece of his reading glasses. “I have considered that and I have spoken to a couple of friends at the National Assembly,” he says, lowering the glasses and leaning back in his chair. “I am confident that we have nothing to fear.” I approach happiness with caution. “Okay,” I say with a nod for my uncle. “I will keep my eyes open though.” My uncle begins to reach for his phone again. “I think I should call someone who might know one of the editors at the compatriot.” “I know someone who works there.” Withdrawing his hand from the phone, my uncle raises questioning brows at me. “You do?” “Yes.” “Who?” “My flatmate.” “And this flatmate...how long has he worked at the compatriot?” I shift uncomfortably in my seat and prepare to correct my uncle. “It is a she actually.” “A woman is your flatmate?” Uncle Hassan asks, a disapproving frown appearing on his face. “Yes sir.” Uncle Hassan stares at me for some minutes and then shakes his head. “I am sure you know what you are doing.” “She just came for a journalism course.” “Okay,” my uncle says, lacing his fingers together over a red file plastic file on his table and waiting for more about what Arisha knew about the mint case. “I am not sure I know exactly what role she plays there, but I will ask when I get back to the apartment later.” “I think you should, and let me know what your findings are when that happens.” I push back the chair I am sitting on and stand up. “Okay sir.”’ Leaving my uncle’s study, I walk downstairs to find my cousins arguing loudly about football. All discussion ends when I walk into their midst. “Hi Ladi,” Baba’s girlfriend, Aisha greets from where she is lounging on the sofa against Baba’s bulky biceps. “Hello Aisha.” “You did not take me to meet your flatmate like you promised.” I give Aisha a look of regret and apologize for forgetting my promise. “I have been a bit distracted by work.” Baba throws one arm across Aisha’s slim shoulders and leans towards her. “Tell him to take you there today...now.” Aisha turns away from Baba to smile at me. “Fine, take me there today...now.” Dipo and Joseph add their voices to Aisha’s demand and I sigh and pick up my car keys from the coffee table beside the sofas. “You guys can come if you want to.” Baba and Aisha exchange a knowing look and then smile at each other. I get the same uncomfortable feeling I got the first day Aisha asked to come to the house, but I am too tired to worry what their intentions are. I begin to walk to the door. “We will be right behind you,” Baba calls after me. I give him a nonchalant shrug in answer, closing the massive front door behind me. ********************************** ARISHA I am opening the door of the guest room and walking into the living room when Ladi enters the apartment. His smile is cheerful but his eyes are tired. “Hi,” I say, nodding at him and stopping beside the dining table. “How was work?” “It was great to an extent.” In the mood for company, I walk towards him and sit down on one of the sofas. “Had dinner?” Ladi shakes his head, drapes his suit jacket over the sofa he is leaning on and leans down to pick up the remote control from the same sofa. “No, but I am fine,” he says, sparing me a glance before pointing the remote control at the television. I watch him flip through channels and then shake his head after some minutes. He looks down at me and remembers to smile again. “So, how was your own day at the newspaper?” “Today is my day off.” “Okay,” Ladi says, picking up his jacket. “I wanted to ask you,” he says, inclining his head sideways and studying me. “What exactly do you do at the compatriot?” “I am trying to become an investigative journalist.” “Have you finished with the course you initially came for?” I explain to Ladi that my time at the compatriot was also part of my two month course and he nods slowly. When I finish my explanation, Ladi tells me that he has some questions to ask about the compatriot. “Okay.” “Let me get out of these clothes first.” His suit over one arm, a small leather laptop bag in the other, Ladi walks to his bedroom. I turn and face the television, but his voice makes me look back to him. “I forgot to tell you,” he says, giving me an apologetic smile. “My cousins are on their way to the house.....with a friend.” I nod at him, wearing a confident smile. “Great. It will be nice to see them again.” When he locks himself in his room, I stand up from the sofa and head to the guest room to prepare for the visit of his cousins. I am at the final stage in brushing my hair and twisting it in a weak bun at the back of my neck when the bell rings. Checking myself again in the bathroom mirror, I rush to the living room. At the door, I almost bump into Ladi who is also coming out of his room. We exchange a smile and he slows down, waiting for me to continue my trip to the door. Pulling the door open, I stand face to face with Ladi’s cousins, but there is a woman with them, a pretty smiling woman in a black long Hijab with gold embroidery running down from a round neckline to the middle of the dress. Holding one end of the dress to stop it from sweeping the floor, she steps away from the men towards me. “Hi.” “Hello.” The woman introduces herself as Aisha. I introduce myself as well, noting the similarity in our names. “I know,” Aisha says pleasantly. “That is why I wanted to meet you.” I pull my attention from Aisha’s smiling face and greet the men behind her. The tallest of the group, the one who is just as enigmatic as Ladi but more laid back takes Aisha’s hand and walks into the living room, a grin on his face for me. Grinning back, I nod at him. I think his name is Baba. As if sensing that I might have forgotten their names, the remaining two guys introduce themselves again. Dipo. Joseph. The duo flash me flirty smiles and take turns to complement my looks. I thank them and usher them inside the apartment. Ladi greets his cousins, a subdued air around him even though the affection is evident on his face. Aisha asks if there are drinks in the apartment. Ladi responds before I get a chance to. “I got a couple of drinks yesterday.” Aisha turns to me and suggests we go together to fetch drinks for everyone. In the kitchen, we remove cans of Coke, Sprite, Fanta and a couple of Heineken from the fridge and set them on the counter top. “Can I ask you a question?” I smile in encouragement at Aisha. “Sure.” “Do you have a red lipstick?” “Yes,” I say, nodding my head and feeling slightly puzzled by this second question. “Great,” Aisha says with a nod. “We are going to play a game.” Picking the cans, we return to the living room, and I am still very puzzled. A game? ******************************** LADI I watch Aisha and Arisha leave the kitchen, smiles on their faces. Aisha’s smile is a happy one while Arisha’s smile looks a little strained. I find myself wondering what is going through her mind. I find out in the next minute when Aisha calls everyone’s attention. “Let’s play a game.” “What game?” Aisha turns to Dipo, dripping innocence. “A nice game.” “And this game does not have a name?” Baba turns to Joseph with a mock frown. “Stop harassing my girlfriend jor. She is still talking.” Aisha smiles prettily at Baba and resumes the discussion. “The name of the game is sixty seconds in heaven.” I groan inwardly. I should trust my instincts next time. The mischievous smiles between Baba and Aisha since Aisha asked to visit the apartment should have been enough to warn me. I look at Arisha and find her at the edge of the group, looking like she would rather be anywhere but here. “Hmmm, sounds like a nice game,”’ Dipo says, grinning from ear to ear. “It is a....kissing game actually.” “Like spin the bottle?” Joseph asks eagerly. Aisha considers his question with a thoughtful frown before shaking her head no. “Like eyes wide open?” Dipo says, doing an impressive jiggle with his eyebrows. “I like that one. I get to look into my kissing partner’s eyes.” Aisha shakes her head again. “No, not like that.” “So what is it like then?” Aisha explains the rules of the game to an attentive Dipo but everyone is leaning towards their discussion. “...essentially you or your partner will wear a lipstick and will try to kiss the other person on the exposed parts of their bodies. Like..the face, neck, arms...” “Hmmm,” Dipo says, looking at Arisha with a wolfish grin. Arisha gives him a weak smile and goes back to looking apprehensive. “You have to leave as many imprints as possible and all that has to be done in sixty seconds.” “Only sixty seconds?” Dipo asks, looking disappointed. “We need more than that.” “Who is we?” Baba asks Dipo with an amused laugh. Dipo opens his mouth to reply Baba but Aisha beats him at holding the attention of the room. “So the time is up, we count all the imprints. The couple with the most imprints win.” “Who am I going to partner with now?” Joseph says with a sulk. “You can partner with Dipo,” Baba tells him with laughter. “You guys make a beautiful couple.” “Walahi, you are a moron,” Joseph says, unable to help his own laughter. The laughter in the living room is infectious and I find myself responding to it. Arisha looks up at me, her face relaxed and her eyes probing. Our eyes hold for some seconds before she breaks contact to listen to Aisha who is asking for a lipstick now. ***************************** ARISHA “Can you please help with that lipstick?” Aisha asks sweetly, and I find myself responding as if on auto-pilot, my brain unable to churn out a single thought. I find the bright red lipstick I have never used in my make up purse and return to the living room. “Thank you dear,” Aisha says with a nod. “So who goes first?” “Me and Baba,” Aisha says, pulling off the cap of the lipstick and pushing out the lipstick. I watch as she approaches Baba, the lipstick held out to him. “Here, help me put this on.” “And who goes next?” Aisha turns to Dipo just as Baba reaches to collect the lipstick from her. “Ladi and Arisha,” Aisha responds without missing a beat. Uh oh! Feeling suddenly constipated, I look at Ladi for help, but his face is turned to Baba and Aisha. *************************** LADI I pretend not to hear Aisha’s words and watch Baba apply the lipstick to her lips with slow precise movements. “We need a timer,” Aisha announces, turning around with scarlet lips and looking imploringly at me. “We can use the timer on my phone,” Baba offers. Dipo is made the time keeper against his will and he complains loudly about the unfairness of it all. Baba and Aisha choose the kitchen and disappear into it. “Twenty seconds gone,” Dipo calls out, a malicious gleam in his eyes as he looks at the slim blackberry in his hand. “Twenty five...thirty, thirty five...forty....forty five....fifty....fifty five...sixty!” Aisha and Baba emerge from the kitchen with smug grins. Baba’s face is plastered all over with red. There are a few prints on his neck and arms. Aisha begins the task of counting the kisses on her boyfriend. “Thirteen,” she says, smiling proudly at her feat. “Ladi and Arisha are next.” Aisha walks over to Arisha, lipstick in hand and performs the task of slathering her lips with thick lipstick. “Finished,” Aisha announces seconds later, collecting Baba’s phone and setting the time. I turn to Arisha who is standing up at Aisha’s prodding. “You don’t have to do this.” “Don’t worry Arisha,” Baba says, jumping in before I can persuade Arisha to back out of the game. “I know my cousin looks scary but he is really a sweet person.” I roll my eyes at Baba’s endorsement and stand up from my seat. Aisha smiles and gives me a thumbs up sign. I step aside for Arisha to walk ahead of me. Choosing my own room over the guest room, I lock the door and face Arisha with a smile. It is just a game after all. ****************************** ARISHA I stand across Ladi, wondering how I look with the bright red lipstick. I know Aisha applied several coats, and I can’t help feeling like a circus clown. “How do I look?” I ask Ladi nervously. “You look fine I guess,” he says laughing. “Ten seconds!” I look at the door and back at Ladi. “Okay?” He takes a tentative steps towards me and I meet him halfway. Despite the cool air coming from the air conditioner, I feel myself begin to grow hot from being at such close quarters with Ladi. I know he is just as uncomfortable as I am even though he has a relaxed smile on his face. In his black short sleeved T-shirt, much of his arms are exposed but I am reluctant to leave imprints on them. Too intimate. “Your face,” I tell him, my voice coming out in a small whisper. “Fifteen seconds gone!” Dipo hollers from the living room. I inhale deeply and force myself to stop thinking. I lean and make contact with his cheek. Steadying myself with a hand on his chest, I choose another safe spot on his neck, but he draws in a sharp intake of breath and steps away. “No, avoid that area,” he tells me, his voice growing strained. “Okay.” “Twenty seconds!” “God! Dipo,” Ladi mutters, stepping towards me again. “Remind me to strangle him,” he tells me with a subdued smile and then offers me his other cheek. I oblige him, keeping my hands to myself this time. Soon I run out of spaces on his face and step back. “Your hands?” Ladi gives me his left hand, without a word. Raising the hand to my lips, I place a kiss in the middle of his palm, stopping to admire my handwork for a second. I take advantage of the remaining spaces and create more lipstick art on the soft flesh of Ladi’s palm. When I raise my head up, Ladi’s expression is unreadable. He takes his hand back, eyes on me. “This was a mistake.” The tension in the room causes my stomach cramps to come back. “I think we should go back.” Ladi says nothing, so I turn towards Dipo’s voice as he shouts again, “Thirty seconds!” I turn back to Ladi when I feel his hand restraining my movement. “Wait.” I watch mesmerized and unable to believe what is happening as his face lowers towards me. I lean closer before I can stop myself and feel his soft lips brush curiously against my own. I part my lips and meet his kiss with fervour. I taste a hint of mint and some Heineken and press harder into him, deepening the kiss. Somewhere I can hear Dipo’s voice. “Forty...forty five....fifty.” I stop listening to Dipo’s countdown when Ladi’s hands find their way into my top. His hands now on my breasts, he moves the pads of his thumbs over my hardened nipples in small circular motions. I moan and wrap my arms around his neck. “Sixty!!!” Ladi parts my legs with his knees, his hands still working on my breasts. “Sixty o!” I push Ladi’s shirt up to feel the taut muscles of his stomach. Splaying my fingers on his stomach, I inch upwards to his nipples. I get a groan of appreciation. “Sixty nah,” Dipo calls out in frustration from the other side of the door. “What are you guys doing there o!” For some reason, the edge in Dipo’s voice brings me back to earth and I reluctantly break the kiss, stepping backwards on weak legs. Ladi’s hands drop to his side and we stare at each other, slowly coming to terms what we have just done. “Sorry.” His eyes still glazed over with need, Ladi shakes his head. “No. I should apologize for jumping on you like that.” I draw in a shuddering breath and try to straighten my top. Ladi runs a finger over his lips and checks for lipstick. “I guess we should go now.” Nodding, Ladi takes my hand. “Come.” In the living room, Dipo and Joseph are giving us suspicious glances. “Only six kisses,” Dipo says, counting the lipstick imprints on Ladi. “And the one on the hand is smudged.” Baba and Aisha are delighted with the results, but I suspect that their delight is not over their win. There is something more, but I can’t place what it is. Joseph begins to talk football and outside the wind begins to howl with approaching rain. “At last,” Aisha tells me with a sigh. “Something had to give after all the heat.” The power flickers out but it comes back on with the help of the big stand by generator downstairs. Ladi’s cousins stay till the rain stops. When they leave at ten, I exchange phone numbers with Aisha and we make promises to keep in touch. “Goodnight,” I tell Ladi as soon as the door closes behind his cousins. He replies in the same and retires to his room. I sit on my bed, replaying the events of the evening when I notice the LED light on my blackberry blinking red. There is a text message from Andy. Sorry about that night. I guess I was a bit too fast. The truth is, I really want you in my life and will be happy if you say yes to a relationship with me. Please give me an answer tomorrow. Have a great night. I groan and fall back on my pillow, feeling confused and guilty at the same time. Andy’s kiss had turned me off and yet I had responded passionately to Ladi’s kiss. I remember my meeting with Ladi’s ex and my feelings of guilt grows in leaps and bounds. I decide to do something about it. I stand up from the bed and walk to Ladi’s door. “Hey.” “Erm....hi. I just wanted to say...erm..what happened in your room was a mistake.” Ladi leans on the wall beside his door with his shoulder and gives me a slight nod. “Okay.” “I am seeing someone.” “Okay.” I stand there, willing myself to walk away but my legs refuse to budge. “Goodnight Arisha.” Ashamed at my lack of will, I walk back to the guest room and pick up my blackberry from the bed. I hit reply to Andy’s text and type, Yes. When I return back from the bathroom where I went to take a short shower. I dive straight under the covers and reach for my phone. There is an X beside the message I sent to Andy. I check the credit balance on my phone. Empty. I go to bed, oddly relieved and thankful the message never got to Andy. I still don’t understand any of my feelings at the moment. ***************************** LADI “Hello,” the hoarse voice repeats again. “Ladi?” I stay silent this time, listening to the breathing at the other end of the phone. “I know you are listening. I know what you are up to.” A rush of static breaks our one sided conversation. “I know where you live. Be careful.” I decide that I have had enough and end the call. I make a mental note to talk to my uncle about these calls and reach behind me to press down the light switch. In the darkness, I lay on my bed and think about the kiss with Arisha. What have I done? By @Umariayim umariayim
Posted on: Tue, 20 May 2014 09:19:10 +0000
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