The Proposal

Chapter One

  THE JOG ought to have helped. It didn’t. Rather, she’d spent the last hour ruminating on what Gracie had told her. I’m getting married. She could have laughed it off as a joke except Gracie went after what she wanted with unapologetic vigor, including picking a random guy to marry. How had she allowed her friend to become so obsessed with marriage? 

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t her fault. After all, Gracie had a mind of her own and a strong will that none could match. “Pick a random guy to marry,” Samantha scoffed out loud. 

“Who did that in this part of our world?” Then shrugged when her companions turned to stare at her, even attempted a smile. The exercise was supposed to help. Who was she kidding? Gracie was getting married and that was that. Her means may not be neat or applausive, but she’d achieved her ultimate goal; landing a husband. That had been all she thought about the past five years. 

Congratulations should be in order except she knew if it didn’t work out as she knew it wouldn’t, it was definitely going to blow up in her own face. Gracie tended to be misguided sometimes, and she always had to step in to clean the mess. 

But as far as Samantha Barigha was concerned, this was the highest form of carelessness. How could she stoop so low to pick up some guy she didn’t know, invest so much in him because she wanted to marry him? For Gracie, it wasn’t about the marriage, it was about the trend of being termed as ‘married’. That was all she cared about. Samantha Barigha wasn’t impulsive. 

As much as she was well into spinsterhood according to her mother, marriage was not a solution to her. If she had to get married, it wasn’t going to be her doing the propositioning. Gracie hadn’t felt any qualms about doing that herself. 

A lady of her caliber shouldn’t be chasing for a companion like it were a career goal. Somewhere somehow, Gracie had lost sense of purpose of what's right and pursued what she wanted instead.  

  Samantha Barigha, propose marriage to a man. The thought was sickening. She paused to catch her breath, waving at her companions to continue without her. But they stopped also and not wanting to hold them up, she raced them instead. 

No need kidding herself on this morning’s jog, she concluded. It had been a complete waste of time that had only pumped her adrenaline into action mode. And by the time they got to her house, she thanked her companions, hoping to be ready for her mother’s visit.  

                            ***

  Samantha uncorked the bottle of water and drank straight from the bottle, enjoying the feel of the cool trickle down her throat. It was an indulgence she allowed herself; a bottle of chilled water at 7 am every day. 

It was something her mother would frown at but that was if she was around to throttle her, right? Right this moment, she was permitted to indulge. She felt the weight on her before she could react and ended up choking back on the water when her eyes cleared enough to register it was her little sister, Rita. She glanced down at her outfit and did not groan, to her credit when Ms. Aisha entered the kitchen. So much for wanting to be ready to face her mother. 

“Good morning, Mother.” She managed to smile at and stroke Rita’s head, not at all ready for what was sure to come. She recognized the pattern like a second skin. “You’re very early, Mother.” Rita cautiously climbed down, already sensing the all-too-familiar dance that was bound to take place. “How was your exercise, Ms. Samantha?” “Very healthy.” She responded hesitantly. “Mother has a meeting this morning, and she didn’t want to be late.” 

Before Samantha could respond, she felt the bottle yanked from her grasp and a piece of cloth thrown at her. “Wipe that look off your face, Samantha Barigha. 

You look like you just saw your worst enemy.” If only that wasn’t how she felt! Samantha posted on a false smile and succeeded in holding back a grimace. It wouldn’t do to give her mother any more ammunition than she already had. She also did not roll her eyes, much as she would have liked, and closed them instead. 

“You give birth to a child and the gratitude you get is resilience and indifference in attitude. This child won’t be the death of me.” When she didn’t hear any further sound, she chanced to open her eyes and groaned inwardly. 

Her mother stared down at her with an all-too-familiar expression that never failed to inspire fear in her as a child. What Aisha Barigha didn’t realize was that she was an adult now, and she'd become immune to it. She repressed the urge to wince, not at the impact of the look but to avoid sticking out her tongue and making silly noises. 

“Good morning, Mother.” Samantha handed the rag back to her mother. 

“Thank you for helping with the cleaning.” Aisha turned her back, going towards the kitchen, and threw over her shoulder, “Gracie came by the Villa and introduced her fiancé to me. 

Very handsome boy he is too.” Samantha covered her face with her hands. No matter what she did, it always came down to her state of unmarried. All Gracie had to do was get engaged and her mother picked on that. She knew where this was leading. But she chose to ignore the in-between notes underlying the announcement. 

“Yes, she brought him here.” 

“Well, she doesn’t have to worry about marriage anymore. The daughter I get is the one who can’t even be bothered.” Her mother continued from the kitchen. 

She knew she would never hear the end of it. She should have gone to pick Rita from the Villa yesterday. This scene could well have been avoided. For a time, at least. Yesterday’s case went on way longer than expected and on returning home, she’d found Gracie waiting at home with her ‘fiancé’. 

That news alone. Yeah, she couldn’t go to the Villa in that state. Perhaps, she should have managed it after all. Her mother appeared a short while later and shoved a glass of something greenish at her, ordering her to drink. All of it. 

Knowing Aisha Barigha, she didn’t bother questioning the contents and held her breath, gulping down the entire contents in the glass. And grimaced at the taste. 

“Mother, what was that?” Holding the glass away from herself due to its vile smell. Mrs. Aisha yanked the glass from her, 

“It’s merely pawpaw leaves and the barks of mango tree cooked in Dogo Yaro.” She went back to the kitchen, muttering 

“You’d think I poisoned her from the look on her face.” Samantha knew it was futile to say anything and although she knew what the medicine was for, she didn’t care to educate her mother that there were modern drugs that could replace it. 

A wave of nausea passed quickly enough before she even felt it. She rested her head against the couch and closed her eyes. Only a little more time, a few more minutes before her mother would leave, Samantha thought. She could afford to endure a few minutes 

“ always working and forgetting that a woman’s place is at her husband's side,” Mrs. Aisha stood facing her daughter, arms akimbo. Samantha opened her eyes to look at her mother out of polite compulsion than personal desire to do so.

  “Even Gracie is getting married and you don’t seem to care.” Mrs. Aisha continued and moved off to adjust a throw pillow and dust invisible dirt off the television. 

“It’s a wonder the media have not taken up the story that George Barigha’s first daughter is still single.” Samantha forced her head up and managed not to roll her eyes. 

It wouldn’t do to remind her mother that Gracie was three years older than her. No good came from arguing, especially with Aisha Barigha. The smart thing to do was let her rave on. Aisha picked up her purse and slung it at the crook of her arm 

“You look very thin. I just wish food was your problem, then we’d know there’s a solution.” Barely holding from laughing out loud, Samantha got up 

“Thank you, Mother.” Taking her cue, Aisha walked to the door with her daughter beside her. 

“Professor Okon’s son just got back to Nigeria. Perhaps, it’s a blessing. I have been invited to the welcome party next weekend. You’re coming with me, so I can introduce you. A good that will be. I hear he’s already taking over his father’s school.” 

Putting on the required smile, nodded and opened the door for her mother. Aisha touched her daughter's head, checking her temperature. 

“Ensure you take Rita to school early Monday morning.” The sigh escaped before she realized it was logged there, 

“Yes, Mother. I’ll ensure she doesn’t watch more than one episode of Game Shakers, and she will finish her homework today.” Aisha hesitated briefly, 

“Think carefully about your life, Samantha. You are no longer as young as you think.” She nodded as though affirming something to herself and stepped out. Propriety demanded she waits till her mother’s car drove out of the gate before she closed the door, heaving a huge sigh of relief as she rested her back against the door. 

The scene was over, and she felt depleted much more than when she’d been jogging earlier. One encounter with Aisha Barigha always did that. 

“Are you okay?” Samantha opened her eyes and stared at her sister. The smile came naturally. This was one face she loved seeing “Yes, yes I am.” Pushing away from the door, she took Rita’s hand, 

“What do you suppose we do today, hmm? I wonder, maybe we could go to the park and pick every single dirt there. What say you?” Looking down to see her sister’s reaction. Rita giggled 

“Okay. Can we get ice cream and a burger for the grasses too?” Feigning pleasant shock. “Why, yes! We wouldn’t want them to starve.”   

  A good read. It helped. A little. But it's Monday and all she’d tried to ignore before came flooding back. It was a hot morning and even with her AC turned on, she could feel tingles now and then from the heat outside her window. 

The heatwave did nothing to alleviate the feelings of confusion she felt. Samantha stared absent-mindedly at the construction work going on, barely noting the fast-forward pace hurrying images moved in disorganized chaos, masons artistically creating a structure from concrete and brain work, hands hefting things from blocks to bags of cement. 

Her mind was miles away from her present location. All she could think about was the look of pure excitement both on her friend’s face and her voice as she announced her engagement. Worse was that gleeful expression of triumph as she re-countered how they’d met and the circumstances leading to the engagement. 

Maybe it was ill of her, but she couldn’t imagine her friend being happy in that marriage. Marry someone you have to pay to accept you; how low was that! Even for Gracie, it was a shock. And wishing it didn’t work out was just her looking out for her best friend. Okay, maybe it was a very selfish thought. 

Her mother had gone on and on the entire weekend whenever she called about Gracie’s engagement and how Samantha was determined not to settle down. At least, she’d managed to evade another meeting today by dropping off Rita at school instead of taking her to the Villa. 

But you can only evade Aisha that long. Just thinking about her mother projected her on her phone. There, on the caller ID was her mother’s photo. Until her mother came to terms with her decision, she planned to avoid any confrontation. More of that had been going on lately. Perhaps, that was the reason she was putting off getting to the office. She knew loads of messages waiting for her, not to say the whispers by her staff. Yeah. It promises to be a very long and busy Monday. It wasn’t such a bad idea though, Samantha thought. Instead of waiting around for you to get a ring, wouldn’t it be more logical to do it yourself? White people did it all the time. 

And this was the twenty-first century. It would be so nice to be the one to set the tone of the marriage contract Samantha shook her head. What was she thinking? She was not a desperate woman: She was a wealthy, successful young woman. She had a job that kept her busy and passions that demanded her time. Of course, she was happy. She didn't need a man. 

When one comes along, fine, but she was not about to go seek out one. She jumped before realizing the sound was coming from outside her window. 

Struggling to calm herself over the blaring of a car horn from behind, Samantha wound down her window slightly to peer at the cement-coated face at her window, the source of the knocking sound she’d heard.

 “Excuse me, ma’am, but you have to move your vehicle.” the man said in perfectly articulate English. She blinked once to clear her mind and heard the blasted horn again. 

This time, embarrassment had her stuttering an incomprehensive reply, whatever it was as she glanced at her side mirror and saw the truck behind her. 

The driver was yelling abuses and insults at her. Before she could fumble with her keys, the man at her window gave her a polite smile, 

“I’m sorry about his language.” Referring to the driver of the truck, 

“But you really are blocking the entrance. Perhaps, if you could just move your car a bit forward”. He glanced at the truck as the driver muttered obscene curses at people with no conscience. Feeling shyly chastised by the driver of the truck, she turned the key in the ignition and realized for the first time she was packed in front of the gate of ongoing construction work. 

She put the car to pack just a few yards in front and glanced at her side mirror as the cement-coated man guided the truck full of cement into the compound while chastising the driver to stop shouting and heaping insults, sounding almost annoyed and irritated. 

Samantha glanced more fascinated at this stranger who was more than his physical appearance. Intrigued, she watched him take a step to follow the truck as it disappeared into the gate, then hesitated. Glancing towards her car, hesitated again, and almost decisively, he ambled towards her car. 

In an unconscious gesture, she glanced at her rearview mirror to ensure she looked presentable, then paused to wonder why she was going to all that trouble over a total stranger, someone whose job was only dependent on how much an employer was willing to pay for a hard day's work under hot blazing weather. She was more than fairly attractive, had realized that when she was growing up. She had a mass of surprisingly soft hair which she kept hidden all the time under wigs.

 At 5feet, 7inches, she was very comfortable with her height and never got into trouble even as a teenager. At least not willingly. She couldn't be accused of being thin, rather, she filled out perfectly in all the right places. She maintained her body by avoiding skipping meals and two hours weekly jog around the estate area. Definitely, she presented a healthy, happy, and successful front.