The Thorn On My Flesh Episode 9


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 pinging every now and then. We have shared our life experiences. I told her my past, including how my housewife left me alone. 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 behaviour. She always acts like ‘Ajebota’ or rather ‘Mummy’s pet’.
Although I was brought up the same way, but all that 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, but her friends had forced her that very night we met. She said one of them was celebrating her birthday. Remilekun wasn’t even shy to add that all her friends really admire my look.
When I’m returning home from the office I pack by the road to call Remilekun. I hardly dial the number before her voice lulls my ear.
“Hello, dear.” She says.
“He-llo-o, my darling, princess Remson,” I say dramatically, and I can hear her smile, “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 with a real sorry voice, “ 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 right from time, she doesn’t like to ride expensive cars in order to disguise her personality. She further says that her elder brother is riding the latest range rover sport, and her only younger sister, whom I met that night, is also using an expensive one.
“And Why don’t you like to show your true personality?” I get curious.
“I’ll tell you later.” She breathes.
“Okay. Is that another promise?”
At last she promises that she is coming to my place on her way back from Sunday service, which is tomorrow. They normally close from 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 I 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 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 bring her car, there wouldn’t be a parking space for her as the compound is already choked with cars. 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 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 have 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, and I adjust my cloth as I 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 asked politely.
“Yes, na 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 am 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 who I meet there is not Remilekun. The lady is one of Lara’s beautiful friends who is completely soaked in the rain.
My eyes quickly scrutinize her figure. She is wearing a mini skirt and a thin harmless blouse which has been made see-through by the rain, and one can see a good portion of her bosoms from her string vest. Before I say anything she greets me, and she says she was coming from somewhere and the rain started when she had walked faraway. She decided to come here because our place is the closest shelter.
“I am feeling cold,” She says, shivering indeed, “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. 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 her shoulders hopelessly and follows after me as I climb the staircase.
I directed her to Lara’s bedroom as we get inside.
“Thank you, sir.” she says.
”Just feel at home.” I say to her as I resume my seat.
I switched on the TV, and I changed the station to MTV base. I can see a considerable difference in this wide flat-screen in comparison to the small one I was using before. I have changed all the things in my apartment since I acquired my wealth. I have discarded my old furniture for imported ones. I can see my clear image through the grey imported tiles. I have changed the whole interior walls from cream colour to white and the colour goes with my white couches with curved silver arms; same thing on my glassy center table with silver curvy legs. in short my apartment now looks like a paradise. Although the decoration doesn’t suit my taste like the one I would have in my own mansion.
The young lady, or sexy Debby as Lara would address her, soon joins me in the sitting room. She is now wearing one of Lara’s modest gowns. She is seated in the couch right opposite me. She crosses her legs and focuses her attention on the TV.
Some minutes later, my eyes stray to her direction as I think I heard a sound from somewhere. Then I realize that the girl has diverted her attention away from the music video. She turns her head sharply towards the TV as our eyes are about to meet. Who knows how long she has been staring at me? Maybe I need to leave the sitting room for her. I don’t think I’m a type of man that takes advantage of women. Besides that, my Remilekun will be here any moment from now.
In the midst of my thought, I hear a knock at the door. I hear the gateman’s voice again. But this time he opens the door before I get there. Surprisingly he appears with my darling Angel! I almost scream, but I restrain myself. Instead, I simply give her a hug and she fills my cheeks with warm pecks. I help her place her umbrella at one corner by the doorway.
“Hello!” Remilekun waves and smiles at Debby.
She flashes a wave back with a forced smile.
I suppose Remilekun never observes that cold response because she diverts her eyes to the surrounding of my sitting room. And I can see a big smile on her face as she does.
“This place aint bad, after all.” Remilekun says, arching her left hand with pride. On her face I perceive a look that suggests, “It’s manageable; just for the mean time.”
Now my eyes begin to survey Remilekun’s dressing the same way her eyes had surveyed my sitting-room. I think she has a great sense of fashion. She is cladded in a skirt and armless blouse that are made up of ankara and a glamorous European stuff. The purple dress matches her handbag and her high-heels. She is blessed with a robust butt and perfect hips.
“Show me around!” She says.
She walks abreast of me while crossing her arm into mine as if somebody is about to snatch me away from her.
“Is that your sibling you told me about?” She asks me as I show her the kitchen.
“No. she is not around,” I say with a look of assurance, “That girl is her best friend. She only came to shelter herself here till the rain stops.”
“I see,” she says, nodding her head.
I can tell from her facial expression that she noticed the girl’s bad manner.
“What did you see?” I ask blankly.
“Never mind.” She wears a naughty smile, moving around to survey the kitchenware.
“You know I am still managing this flat until probably two months’ time.”
“Yes. I understand,” she takes a sigh, “anyway, can I take a shower?”
The question sounds to me like a rhetorical question. Who am I to say NO to such a honorable request?
“Yes, why not?” I say with a welcoming smile.
She must be a carefree lady. Otherwise how can a woman request to bathe in a man’s house on the first visit! I wonder if I should ask her if she hadn’t bathed in her house in the morning, but I dare not. It is indeed a pleasure to me.
“But … I have prepared your delicacies. You need to check them out after shower.”