:::::::: HERON AT DESERT:::::::: Episode 6. . “Oh, that name really, really befits you, you know?” I say with a questioning look. “Thanks—anyway, my sister actually asked me to give you the handkerchief.” “Really? Who is your sister?” “She is the fair lady on a purple top and a pink bandanna.” I look straight to confirm the person. I am stunned to realize that it’s the lady that has just caught my heart. She diverts her face elsewhere the moment I look towards her. “Please, can you help me tell your sister I would like to thank her personally?” “Yeah, why not,” says Shewa, enthusiastically. She immediately waves into the air when the least I expect from her is to go whisper it to her ear. The lady sees the gesticulation and pats the girl that is seated beside her on the shoulder. The lady jumps to her feet, adjusting her wears. Shewa ascertains that she is really calling her; not the other lady. Then she rises to her feet elegantly and the other lady sits back slowly. I guess she is embarrassed, for she rests her jaw in her palms while staring at her friends. I manage to see that. As the lady walks closer, thump…thump… thump—my heart beating loudly in my ears while my eyes flutter to the rhythms. She appears more beautiful than what I was seeing from afar. At that moment her sibling begins to walk away. I quickly call and thank her once more. When the goddess gets to my table I tell her I appreciate her good gesture. She wears that killing smile again and says: “Don’t mention...I just felt obliged to do that.” Wow! Her voice sounds pleasantly thin in my ears. And funny enough the voice might not be thrilling for singing; maybe I should try her. I also adore a girl that has a nice singing voice. My late Jumoke was endowed with that. “Are you into music?” I ask. “Why did you ask?” She smiles. “I think I’m just curious.” She pouts her lips invitingly while spinning her catchy eyeballs. I suppose she is searching for the right way to answer me. “I wonder if you can sit here for a moment,” I show her the chair across my seat, “that is— if you wouldn’t mind.” “Thanks,” She settles herself on the chair and says, “ to answer your question; I am, and I am not.” “How do you mean?” “I love singing, but I do not assume it as a profession.” “I thought as much—anyway, you might need to do something for me before leaving, but let me introduce myself to you first.” I tell her my name and surname with a handshake and she replies warmly. She is Remilekun by name, and her friends call her by Remson. “Re-mi-le-kun. That’s a beautiful name, just like the bearer.” “Thanks. You’ve got a fine name too,” she blushes as our hands depart from the lustful union. Her palm feels soft and tender in a way that makes me want to feel it over and over again. I let her realize how much she shares same features with my deceased lover. She expresses her sympathy. I tell her the extreme beauty is just the same. She smiles blushfully. She must have taken cognizance that I’m proposing to her indirectly, for She grunts knowingly after my statement. I tell her I’m really pleased to meet her. “It’s a pleasure meeting you too,” She says, but this time the smile seems to show more in her narrowed eyelashes. After a brief pause she demands what I said she has to do for me. “Oh, it’s nothing much. I just want you to sing for me. I’m in the mood to listen to a song without a beat.” She bursts into a giggle, glancing back at her friends, “you are so funny. But I told you earlier I that am not a musician.” “I know. I just feel like hearing you sing—any song at all.” “Maybe later then.” She says shyly. I told her that I’m really hungry for it much more than anything. She laughs and says, “Okay, okay. which song should I sing?” “Anyone at all.” She wears a thoughtful look for a moment and begins to clear her throat like a professional vocalist in music studio. The lyric that comes from her mouth is ‘My heart will go on (Titanic)’ by Celine Deon.’ Her voice rises slowly like early morning sun. In my ears her voice is competing with that of the original singer. I do not realize when my eyes shut out the world. I find myself swimming in ocean of affection. The song continues—one minute… two minutes…With my sense I kept measuring the time which I wish would last an hour or more. With emotion, her voice rises and falls rhythmically like sea waves. In the end, the passionate lyric drops gently from her throat as cold water drops from the mouth of a fish in its habitat. “Wow!” I begin to clap wildly as a wave of excitement descend upon me, “This is a great voice!” “Thanks, thanks,” she beams; her eyelashes fluttering enticingly. “So, we still have talent like yours in this country?” I say after a little pause of wonder. “Oh, don’t flatter me, please,” she chuckles. After a little more compliments we exchange contact. I glance at my phone—8:40pm. Remilekun takes an excuse at that instant. I can see her sibling waving at her from afar. “I should be on my way now.” “Alright, catch yah.” I wave at her as she hurries away. I keep staring at her until she disappears with her sibling out of the club territory. **** After three weeks Remilekun and I have become intimate. Our friendship is beginning to graduate into a romantic relationship. Over the weeks we had one date at chicken republic and we spoke on phone every day and night. Although that didn’t disturb us from communicating via BBM every now and then. We have shared our experiences. I told her my past, including how my housewife left me. Immediately she mentioned her father’s name, which she reluctantly did, I got to know that she is a daughter of one of the richest men in town. That, indeed, really shows in her behaviours. She always acts like ‘Ajebota’ or rather ‘Mummy’s pet’. I was brought up the same way, but everything changed when I began to face the mysteries of life. According to her, she is twenty-six years of age. She just finished serving last year and now she is going to start working as a director in one of her father’s cement- producing companies. During our date she told me she doesn’t like clubbing. She was forced by her friends the very night we met because one of them was celebrating her birthday. Remilekun did not conceal the fact that all her friends admire my look. **** When I’m returning home from the office, I park by the road to call Remilekun. I hardly dial the number before her voice lulls my ear. “Hello, dear.” She says. “He-lo-o-o, my darling princess Remson,” I say dramatically. “When should I be expecting you? You promised you were coming to know my place yesterday, but you failed.” “Baby, I am so sorry,” She says apologetically, “ Mummy went out with my car and I didn’t want to take out any other car.” “Oh, what is wrong with Mum’s car now?” I mimic her usual babyish voice, and she chuckles. She says her Mum’s car is under repair. She let me realize that her car has the lowest status in their house, and she doesn’t like to ride expensive cars in order to disguise her elite personality. She further says that her elder brother rides the latest range rover sport, and her only younger sister, whom I met that night, is using the latest Amanda. “And Why don’t you like to show your real personality?” I get curious. “I’ll tell you later.” “Okay. Is that another promise?” “Yeah.” At last she makes a promise to me that she is coming to my place on her way back from Sunday service, which is tomorrow. They normally close at their church by 2: 0 clock. We say goodbye to each other. On Sunday evening, around 4:0 clock, Remilekun has not shown up. I have tried her number several times, but couldn’t get her through. I have been reading daily times in the sitting room. Every slight sound at the door seems to alert me. And any droning or horn of a car would make me go to the windowpane to peep downstairs. I have done that up to four times, for I am staying at the third floor. If Remilekun should come with her car, there wouldn’t be a parking space for her as the compound is already choked up. So the only thing I have to watch out for is a knock at the door. I have already given her my address and she claimed she is used to my area, and therefore the address to my flat wouldn’t prove difficult for her. She is the only guest I am expecting for today. I’ve already filled my bar and freezer with her favourite drinks. I asked Lara to prepare some fried chickens, noodles and salad for her before she left for her Mum’s place in the morning. Of course, I’ve got to know all her favourites through our regular interactions. Lara is going to return in the night. About fifteen minutes later, I hear a knock at the door; my heart lurches with excitement. But it has started raining heavily outside. I place the daily times on the center table, adjust my wears and walk to the door. “Oga, sir. Person dey look for you for down- down,” Our gateman says to me as I open the door. The old man is an illiterate who speaks pidgin English with a strong Yoruba accent. “You mean downstairs?” I ask politely. “Yes, down-down steer.” The man points his finger downwards from the balcony. I finally ask the man in Yoruba if the guest is a male or female, and I’m glad to hear it’s a female. The old man must have asked her to stay behind. I quickly rush downstairs with the man, but the guest is not Remilekun. The girl is one of Omolara’s beautiful friends who is completely soaked in the rain. My eyes quickly scrutinize her figure. She is wearing a red mini skirt and white harmless blouse which has been made see-through by the rain, and one can see a good portion of her large breasts through her string vest. We exchange greetings. She tells me she was actually coming from somewhere, then the rain started when she has walked faraway. She decided to come here because our place is the closest shelter. “I am feeling cold,” She says, shivering, “I need to meet Lara to get me a dry cloth and I will be leaving immediately the rain stops.” “Oh, you don’t bother yourself with too much explanation,” I say, “just come in and change your wears. It’s really cold. Although your friend is not at home.” The look on her face shows that she is disappointed or she would feel uncomfortable with only me around. She shrugs hopelessly and follows after me as I climb the staircase****************** Episode 7 is next & will be posted @5:00PM**************
Posted on: Mon, 25 Aug 2014 08:17:35 +0000