Chapter 13
902 Words
I Know He is Trouble; I Should Walk Away
Chandeline sat in the keke with her arms folded and her jaw tight.
Two red flags in one night. That was enough to make any sane girl call it off and go home to sleep.
The first had been small, easy to excuse: the plate of fish. David had pulled it toward himself for a split second, like his hand moved before his brain remembered she was there. He’d corrected it fast and slid the plate back to the center. But Chandeline had seen it. People didn’t unlearn that kind of thinking. People from money reached first. They assumed there would always be more.
The second was worse.
At the junction, David had flagged the keke, put her in, and blew her a kiss. He didn’t even ask her if she had money let alone pay the driver!
She didn’t argue. She wasn’t the kind to make a scene on the road. She just fished out her own fifty-naira note and gave it to the driver. It was all she had. Luckily for her, fifty naira was enough to get her to the gate. From there, she’d have to walk or find another keke to her place.
The keke dropped her at the gate at 10:08 PM. The estate was quiet, the security light flickering. She stood there with her purse clutched tight, feeling the familiar burn of embarrassment and anger.
She called Joeshephad.
“Where are you?” she asked as soon as he picked up.
“Close,” he said. “By the filling station. What’s up?”
“I need money to get home. Can you meet me at the gate?”
Joeshephad was her friend from church, the kind who showed up when you called, even if he was tired. He said he’d be there in five minutes.
Chandeline hung up and leaned against the gate. She was fuming, but not at Joeshephad. She was fuming at David. For making her have to call someone by this time of the night.
A pickup truck slowed down beside her.
The man inside was in uniform. A soldier. Early thirties, clean-shaven, wedding band on his finger. He rolled down the window.
“You waiting for someone?” he asked.
Chandeline didn’t answer immediately. She’d learned not to talk to men in cars at night.
“Do you need a ride?” he tried again.
She shook her head. “My friend is coming.”
He didn’t drive off. He looked her over, slow and assessing. “You look tired. Where are you going?”
Chandeline told him the street.
“That’s my way,” he said. “Get in. I’ll drop you.”
She should have said no. She knew that. She had started having real feelings for David, stupid, sudden and inconvenient as they were. Getting into a married soldier’s truck was the fastest way to mess that up.
But she was tired. Her feet hurt. She had fifty naira to her name and Joeshephad was still two streets away.
She opened the door.
The truck smelled like leather and aftershave. He asked her name. She gave it. He told her his was Corporal Musa, but he didn’t need her to call him that.
He didn’t take her straight home. He stopped at another fish spot, bought her malt and fish, and watched her eat.
“You’re pretty,” he said, not looking at her face.
Chandeline didn’t reply.
After the food, he handed her three thousand naira in crisp notes. Folded, deliberate.
“This is for your transport,” he said.
Chandeline took it. Her fingers didn’t shake. That was the worst part. They didn’t shake.
She could see it clearly. He was married. The ring wasn’t for decoration. He was doing this for one reason, and she knew what that reason was. He’d drop her at her gate, ask for her number, call her next week, and suggest a hotel.
She knew.
But Chandeline’s background made her do it anyway.
Her father was not really working anymore. Her mother’s akara barely covered her needs. She paid her own school fees with chinchin and meat pie. Three thousand naira was two weeks of profit. It was the money she needed for the next keke, for food, for the photocopy of her assignment she hadn’t paid for.
She could say no. She could walk home in the dark and call Joeshephad and explain why she was late.
Or she could take the money, get home safe, and deal with the guilt later.
She chose the money.
“Thank you,” she said, keeping her voice flat.
Corporal Musa smiled like he’d won something.
He dropped her at her gate ten minutes later. He requested for her number and she gave him. She got out, said “good night,” and walked inside.
Joeshephad was waiting at the gate when she came back out five minutes later. He had the two hundred naira in his hand.
“I brought it,” he said.
Chandeline looked at the money, then at him. She didn’t tell him about the soldier. She just took the money, folded it into her purse, and said, “Thanks. I got something already.”
Joeshephad frowned. “Where?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “Let’s go.”
They walked to her house in silence.
- Writer
