CHAPTER 06- When She Becomes A Part Of Him.
1061 Words
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She stared at his car until it completely left her view. Bashir is a complicated one of a kind, or so she thought.
Fatimah along with her tray, the one thousand naira note, and a box containing her medicines walked home.
He didn't even explain how I was supposed to take the medicines, she thought. Fatimah went to an LEA primary school which of course is on the government. Neither she nor Basira furthered their educations because-
On Basira's part, school was a place for people with no time. Which is a cover up for the fact that she's a dufus that can't even spell her name and surname correctly even if a knife was being held to her throat. She has never been interested in learning unless one time when a very handsome Corper was sent to teach at their school, she used to be the first to arrive in class.
On Fatimah's part though was a different case. She understands what she's been taught fine and good but has never thought of anything beyond primary six because she knew that no matter what Uwale will never sponsor/ let her pursue her dreams to be a teacher one day. Uwale wouldn't waste her hard earned money on s**t. Note the key word- Hard earned.
According to her thick brainless head, a person doesn't have to go to school before they achieve anything in life. That was what she actually told Afiyah's mother when the woman once talked to her about Junior secondary school for her 'daughters'.
It has been long since primary six, 6 years precisely so don't blame the girl for not understanding what was been written on the papers.
Sighing to herself, Fatimah threw the papers back into the box and huffed in exasperation. Distressed.
She felt full, very full. Never in her life has she ever been well fed as today.
She ate two meatpies, a plate of rice with parts of chicken she has never ever tasted in her whole life nor thought ever tasting and afterwards drank a bottle of Maltina. Bliss! Whenever Uwale gives her portions of chicken then believe me when I sai it's either one of three parts- The head, the Feet or the wings(if she's lucky).
She felt so alive, aware of the blood that was pumping through her system with so much vigor. Talking about blood, Fatimah felt her head spinning as she remembered the sight of her blood from earlier.
And it was just because she didn't want Bashir looking at her malnourished skinny body, the bruises and scars covering her arms and neck. Of all days, she had to wear a sleeveless shirt today.
Definitely her luck.
But sincerely speaking, today is one of the best days of her life. Not only did she eat well, no, she feels energy coursing through her veins and she got to find out a little about the man that intrigues her, the one who takes her breath away, whose face she dreams of, who she can't stop her thoughts from drifting away to at all times. Like now.
The man who has saved her ass..or rather her LIFE today.
Fatimah sighed dreamily. It was all in front of her but it was so far away. Bashir is no match for her, way, wayyy out of her league. She feels self conscious in his presence. Even though she bathes and cleans herself on regular basis she still cowers in shame whenever he's near. Despite her knowing that she exudes no unpleasant body odour or mouth odour, his scent engulfs the atmosphere whenever he's near. Overshadowing whatever scent was present before.
Her thoughts kept drifting to him as she walked.
Fatimah felt her body weakening as she came closer to the house. Sleep, she needed sleep.
With great difficulty she tiptoed into the house and slipped into her room without making noise. Pushing a heavy stone to the door she laid on her bed and that was how sleep took her.
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"Bashir I've been worried. You didn't pick my call and neither did you call back" Mama worriedly complained.
"It was nothing. Sorry I didn't call back I kind of lost track of time and well I went to the hospital" he replied massaging his temples.
"The hospital?!" she exclaimed. "Were you sick? Were you hurt? What happened to you Bashir speak to me"
She tends to worry over what ever little thing happens to him.
"I'm fine, took someone there"
"Who?" she asked looking confused.
"A girl I met some days ago. She needed help and I helped"
"I don't want you pushing yourself into doing things that should not concern you"
He shook his head trying to make her understand and at the same time not wanting to speak of Fatimah to anyone at all. He knows how dramatic Mama can become over his wellbeing.
"She fainted in my presence so I couldn't leave without doing whatever I could to help"
"But still" she began hesitantly "You don't know how people are. You can do good to them and they repay you with bad. Who is she? What concerns you with her? Where do you know her?"
"She's a girl I buy groundnuts from" he replied.
"'Yar Talla! Bashir kayi hankali da mutanen nan fa yawancin su basuda kirki, basuda mutunci (A street hawker! Bashir be careful with that kind of people, majority of them are not affectionate) They can be vile" Mama exclaimed in turbulence.
"Don't worry. I got everything under control" he replied, disregarding her exclamations. "I need some sleep"
"You need to eat"
"I ate earlier" he mumbled, loud enough for her to hear.
"Where?" she asked, narrowing her gaze at him.
"At an eatery, with the girl"
"Bashir! I'm concerned over your well-being ne. Becareful"
"In Shaa Allah" with that he walked out of her room and straight to his, putting his phone on Flight Mode he discarded whatever uncomfortable clothing from his body and laid on his bed.
His conversation with Fatimah clouded his senses.
Stomach ulcer. Cuts. Bruises. Scars. Tears. Swollen Eye. Torn clothing.
According to him, these were all signs of Starvation and Domestic Violence.
And his damned mind isn't letting it go.
She attracts him like hell. He feels like she's a part of him now.
"I'm doomed" Bashir muttered to his self.
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- Writer
