Happily Ever After

                                                        Husna Husna sat on a recliner chair swivelling side to side as she enjoyed the strawberry scent of the room freshener, deeply inhaling and exhaling the fragrance with eyes closed and head tipped back. She could swear she had not felt this gay and alive for ages. Casting an eye on the files on her table, she gave a small satisfactory smile. No more researches, no more reports, no more running helter skelter for news updates and interviews. Not for a whole week, all thanks to her cousin's upcoming wedding. She opened her eyes slowly again and let her gaze linger and roam the desk which she shared with two other colleagues. Since the managing director gave an approval to her request for a week leave from work yesterday, this had been her umpteenth time of scrutinizing the desk and the entire large room which was occupied with the rest of her colleagues all on their desks, busied away with their computer systems and rustling papers. Since she got her leave, she had never been this happier in her entire working life, for she had initially depressed herself with the self depreciating thought that he would bluntly turn down her request considering her poor performance since her employment into the media house. At a younger phase of her life, she has had little or no passion at all for writing articles, presentations or hosting interviews but as a twist of fate, she had found herself in the media house as a host for a TV show as a fulfilment of her father's wish for her and since her employment here, even as time swished by, she had rarely had anything commendable to write home about. And maybe,...just maybe her lack of success in her job was the major reason Mr Osaze had agreed on her leave of absence for a week. Maybe he felt she needed a break to reboot her brain before returning back to work. Maybe he felt taking a break from work would improve her intellectual curiosity and tricks necessarily unlimited to the mass media. However, on Husna's part, she cared less about rebooting or doing whatsoever to her brain for better diligency at work. All she cared for, rather selfishly, was enjoying her freedom from stressing and stretching extra miles to get news updates and having to research and interview celebrities and big men and women who spent most of their allocated time pontificating about people, politics, power, and self achievements. She cared more about meeting family members she had last been in touch with donkey of years ago most especially her father whom she knew she had offended by neglecting her promise to occasionally check up on him. Asides that, she could already perceive the sweet savour of roman kan rago, dan wake with ground cayenne pepper called yaji, in her Hausa dialect, including gwoten masara, wainar shinkafa, funkaso, and other Hausa dishes and culinary delights that would be assorted on the day of the wedding kawyawa event. Still, she could not help but concede the harsh reality that she would miss the noises of her heels clicking noisily on the brown hard marbled floor whenever she was on her signature fast motion in quest of news expos, and the exchange of warm hearted greetings between her colleagues and herself in the amicable mornings when she would rush past them. Yet, of all things she knew she would miss during her absence from work, she bet on herself that she would miss the usual sweet fragrance and the cosy and simple comfort of the desk she shared with Ummulkhairi and Sandra, the most. She would not add the ladies to the list of those she would miss, though. They were equally granted respective leaves to attend the wedding alongside her. She was snapped from her thought as her phone shrilled in front of her and rang out with her favorite song by Dj-Ab, soyayya. She had always been teased by her non Hausa colleagues about her choice of ringtone, calling it primitive as it was not sang entirely in English and so, does not fit a sophisticated lady like her. That, they had claimed. Husna would however laugh at their misconception and say, "Forget that one. This song is partially sang in the Hausa dialect, yes. But if you should pay rapt attention to the lyrics as it plays, you'd fall in love with it. This song is a good example of a classic Hausa-English song. Moreover, I am proud of my mother's tongue including the fact that the singer never neglected his roots, all in the name of embracing westernization. You can hardly find singers like him these days." With her strong convincing words, they would resign their argument but not without teasing her again, "Well done, barrister Husna. The greatest arewa barrister. You should've been a lawyer instead of a TV host. It would fit you more." The end product would be continuous teasing of one another and rupture of laughters. Husna lip sang along with the song, enjoying a few guilty seconds before peering at the caller's identity. It was the bride-to-be, Salma, whom she owed her work leave to. She picked the receiver with a brightened face. "As salama alaykum, wifey." Salma's laughter came from the other end of the line. "Wa alaykum salam, my favorite cousin in the whole wide world." Husna laughed and spun round on the chair, feeling a sweet lightness in her heart as she took in slow and effortlessly satisfied breaths. "Awwwn. I'm blushing o!" "How are you doing?" "I'm doing just great and how are you too?" "I'm cool." Salma let the last word trail. "And how's the entire wedding plans going?" Salma's deep sigh could be heard faintly. "I don't know, Husna....., everything is about to fall into jeopardy." Shafts of fear ran through Husna. Jeopardy? Has the wedding been canceled? She would not bear to hear such. To her, her vacation has already begun and she could already picture helping herself to some delicacies on the days of the wedding events. "Subhanallah!" Husna exclaimed. "What happened?" Salma sighed again. "Don't worry about that for now, Husna. I'll tell you everything when you come over, okay?" "But,...are you sure you're okay?" Husna asked, wrinkled lines now visible on her forehead as her heart beat in an unsettled rate. "Don't worry yourself, coz.When you come over, we'll talk about it. And erm,...by the way,....when will you girls be arriving? You and Sandra and that slim friend of yours. That one as slim as a broomstick. What's her name again?" Husna laughed slightly despite her nervousness. Asides her selfish desire for praying that the wedding be a success, she still cared and was afraid for Salma's well being. What could be going wrong that Salma would want to tell her?. "Ummi." Husna mentioned. "Ummulkhairi." "Yeah, Ummulkhairi." Salma repeated as though finally getting a grip of the name again. "So, when will you guys be arriving to Gwarinpa? You know the wedding preparations are already kicking off. Tomorrow is my kawyawa." Husna spun around again on her seat and light returned to her face. She threw her fears aside, loving the reminder that she was going to be work free for an entire week. "Come on, Salma. You know I'd never forget that for anything in the world. I've taken a week leave from work and hopefully, I'll be in Gwarinpa first thing tomorrow morning before the kawyawa kicks off. InshaAllah." There was a short pause at the other end of the line and some voices could be heard from the background. "Hello, coz. Are you there?" Salma's voice returned to the phone. It seemed she was being distracted by the background noises. "Yep." "Okay,...I was saying,...." Salma made to continue their discussion but the voices came up again and she paused before returning back to the phone call. "Hello, Husna." "I'm still with you, amarya." Husna replied as she racked her brain, trying to identify the owners of the familiar voices. "Okay,....I'll be expecting your arrival then." Salma cleared her throat now. "Erm,...gotta go. The tailor just came into the house now. He's discussing something with aunt Amina. I think he's here with my wedding dresses. Husna's eyes widened in glee at the mention of aunt Amina's name, a little selfishly forgetting to celebrate with salma on the early arrival of her dresses. "Don't you dare blow my mind! You mean aunt Amina is there with you guys at the house?" Salma laughed. "Yes. She came back from London few hours ago. Everyone is here, Husna. It's a full house we've got. If you like, don't come." Husna's happiness were overloaded. The mention of aunt Amina's presence alone in the house was enough to cause an overjoyed explosion. Aunt amina had been her favourite aunt ever since childhood. She was her father's younger sister and the fifth of six children born into her father's family. Husna's attachment to aunt Amina had begun when her aunt got a job at a big eatery when she was still very much younger and unmarried. She would always make sure to pass by Husna's house which was quite close to the eatery on her way back home, and give Husna some snacks wrapped in brown oil stained paper bags. She would then stay a little longer to entertain Husna on the kinds of customers they have that day, and how their rich spoilt children showed off their first class status as if the rest of them there were merely paupers and beggars. Aunt Amina and Husna's bond was however short lived when the woman tied the knot with an ambassador and had to reside with him in the United Kingdom. Husna could remember begging aunt Amina to take her along with them abroad, but her father was a strong barrier for her and refused her want. At the end of it all, aunt Amina had left alone without her and Husna had sulked in her room and refused to talk to anyone nor eat anything except junks for several days. Just like her mother, little Husna felt, aunt Amina had neglected her for her own selfish interest. Soon after, Husna was taken to her grandmother's house where she created a new bond of friendship with Salma who also lived with the old woman, to refill the empty vacuum aunt Amina had left in her heart after her departure. However, once in a blue moon, aunt Amina would visit Nigeria for a few couple of days, mostly on important and big occasions with her only child, Yasmin, who was a total replica of her mother in terms of facial resemblance. "I'll surely be there o!" Husna said in delight. Salma laughed again. "You better do, girl. We'll talk later right?" "Yea, sure." "Alright dear." "Goodbye, Salma. See you when I come around." "I'll be expecting you, coz." Salma said and then the line went dead. Husna dropped the phone back to its initial position and slouched her back on the chair. Putting away her excitement over aunt Amina's return a minute later, her anxiety returned and her face grew solemn. The great amount of love and care she had for Salma had metamorphosed into an unexplainable intimacy such that the latter's problems were also hers to bear. They had both resided with their grandmother since childhood until their admission into separate universities where they were eventually distanced from each other. And although, they were ripped apart by distance, they were still bond by heart and close by random calls and rare visits. During their stay at their grandmother's, Salma was popular both in the entire estate and at school as the troublesome one while Husna was tagged 'the nerd in glasses'. So, it was unsurprisingly a bit of a shocker to almost everyone that a rogue like Salma was getting married before a dove like Husna despite the striking differences in their personalities. 'Love is blind' and 'maybe she's changed' were the words those people used to comfort their shocks. However, Husna was not bothered about Salma's marriage before hers, as she was certain her current relationship with her long time boyfriend, Kareem, would eventually lead to marriage in a short time to come. Two ladies, Husna's colleagues, staggered towards her as their body heaved uncontrollably in laughter while they shared playful slaps and punches. One of the ladies was slimmer than the other,- rather too slim, and with her body structure that could be compared to that of a broomstick, one could easily point out that she was Ummulkhairi whom Salma was referring to, few minutes ago. No bottom, no bust. Only that her beautiful dark face, large rounded eyes and the straight pointed nose resting on it spiced a little sauce to her plain shape. The second lady was Sandra, one could guess, figuring she was the only one left amongst the three colleagues who shared the same desk. She was quite chubby with her tight dress exposing the perfect curves of her body and the flattering flatness of her stomach regardless of her slight plus-size. An eye-catching distinction between the two ladies, one could easily point out. "Are you girls done with the gossips you went to do?" Husna asked, a brow raised in feigned seriousness. "See who's talking. You did yours first, remember. You lead, we follow. " Sandra said and they all laughed over it. Their laughter bearing almost the same quiet and chuckling rhythm in uniformity. "Thanks for reminding me, madam. Now, let's get over with what we came here for,...which is to pack our stuffs." Husna rose from her seat to pack the files on her desk into a box which she had raised from the floor to the table and the ladies joined her, each person focused on her own portion. "We're gonna have the best vacation of our lives escaping from the hustles and bustles of our jobs for a whole week." Husna squealed in excitement. She just couldn't seem to think of anything else apart from the upcoming event. She wouldn't blame herself, though. It had been eons since she had thought of catching fun like this. Everything was all about work, work, work. Nothing else ever really mattered except work. "Yea,...although I wish the whole thing would be done in Lagos. Lasgidi has almost everything one could ever wish for. Cool beaches, great hangout spots, weekend parties, clubs,..." Ummulkhairi said but Sandra cut her halfway, in objectivity. "Wait a second, Ummi. What are you trying to say? That Abuja is lacking in the areas you just mentioned?" "No, not at all. I didn't mean it that way. I was mainly referring to the beaches. You can't find one in Abuja, compared to Lagos." Sandra shared sideways glances with Husna, both ladies trying to understand the reason for Ummulkhairi's new obsession for beaches. Sandra gave a long hiss and faced her work again. "Abeg forget that one, jor. We've got Jabi lake and the rest, let me remind you. In fact, Abuja has all the class and glamour you'd ever ask for." "Okay o!" Ummulkhairi resigned her argument. Facing Husna, she added. "Husna, can you please pass me the sellotape on your table?" Husna threw the tape to her and she caught it a little too poorly. "Are you putting away everything? Where are the ones Daniel would be using when he replaces you?" Husna asked. "I kept the ones he'll be needing inside the locker." The next few minutes was spent by the ladies packaging and sealing their boxes each until Sandra broke the silence. " Urmm,...Husna. Have you called in on Salma? Does she know we'll be arriving today?" "Yea, I did. But I gave her the impression we'll be arriving by tomorrow morning. Just wanted to surprise her." Sandra simply nodded in agreement and lifted her box from the desk. "Let's get going already. Husna, remember we're counting on you for our ride home and also to Gwarinpa." "Aye, aye, captain." Husna replied and she and Ummulkhairi grabbed their boxes each, about to walk away from their desk. Just then, a fourth presence walked in on them, in composing footsteps with a smirk playing on his lips. It was a young man, probably in his early thirties. His body build was smallish and he looked quite handsome with his pink-bleached lower lip and half sleepy eyes which put up an alluring look with dark seduction. He stood in front of them, hands thrust deep into his pocket. The scorn on the faces of the ladies was enough to tell they did not like the guy a bit. "What do you want, Jide?" Ummulkhairi demanded imperiously. Jide however laughed and raised his hands mid air to show surrender. Ummulkhairi's thunderous words had caught the audience of everyone around them and their facial expression also showed their distaste for the young man as some of them whispered loud enough for the ladies to hear, "Na wa o!" "When will he ever learn to leave these girls alone?" "He's so shameless." "I blame his parents though. He's clearly got no sense of a good home training." Jide ignored the hate words words falling on his ears. "Hey, hey, hey! Calm down, Ummi. I'm only here to have a heart-to-heart conversation with you girls,...if you don't mind." "Well, we do mind. So, get the hell outta here." Husna backed Ummulkhairi. His personality and presence made her sick to the stomach whenever he showed up in front of them. "Don't be a meanie, baby." Husna's eyes protruded and she drew in a sharp bitter breath. "If you call me that name one more time, I swear I'll break those tiny legs of yours and send them to your mother for dinner." What could be heard next were guffaws of laughter from their spectators. Losing his patience, Jide barked at them, "And how's that any of your business?!" The laughter eventually died down but still, a few snickers and jeers could be heard from unidentified persons. "Ladies,...." Sandra made to calm the heat of the situation. "Chillax. Let's hear whatever he has to say before any further judgement." She said, struggling to keep the box in her grips, the weight seemed to be overpowering her now. Jide smirked again, regaining back his cool as he gave a gentle nod of his head in mock appreciation. "That's my Sandy." He bit his lower lip and continued "By the way ,...I see you're smaller than the weight of what you're carrying. Need a little help?" He offered but Sandra rolled her eyes. All three of them knew and understood too well the hidden meaning of every word Jide ever spoke and thus, they could tell his offer to help was merely a show of sarcasm. "Cut it out and say whatever you're here for, Jide. We haven't much time." She said, casting a glance at her wristwatch as if in a bid to show her impatient attitude about time. "Fine." He said. "Let me start by expressing my utmost delight that this desk is being handed over to me and my professional media team." He stressed the 'professional'. "And believe me when I say... it will only take us the short period of time you scumbags will be away, to show the director what entertainment media is all about." The ladies shared a glance in amazement of Jide's show of selfish and inhuman thinking. Their amazement was however short lived for they were aware Jide would never cease to come up with new turmoils and unhealthy rivalries every single day. "Well....," Ummulkhairi replied. "Goodluck with that." Facing her friends again, she added. "Let's get out of here." They inclined and made to leave but as soon as they swept past him, Jide called after them. "Girls,...." They reluctantly faced him again. Second round of trouble. "Have a great vacation. And I hope,....you ladies never come back." Rather than trading words with him, they walked out of the door and away from him. On a casal day, they would have insulted the daylight and noon out of him but today, they were occupied and conscious of other important things, to be exchanging hot words with an insane person as Jide. Jide was a different man from the old Jide they had met when they stepped foot into the media house for the first time. Or maybe he was the same with his present self but had only hidden his true personality behind his pretends niceness. When they began work her almost simultaneously, he was extra nice, polite and a real gentleman and would occasionally ask them out to lunch and other social fun events but they were unaware his evil scheme was to take advantage of their carefree attitude with him and have their bodies as s*x dolls. When they had each and separately turned down his proposal, his attitude towards them changed drastically overnight and he transformed into a virulent monster much to the shock of every person who knew too well of his relationship with them but not of the story behind his sudden transformation. If wishes were horses, the ladies knew, Jide would have usurped them and asked that they be stripped of their jobs and left homeless and needy. "We don't have his time, okay?" Husna consoled her friends as they approached her ever-new looking dark Mercedes Benz. "He isn't worth our time. We'll deal with him later. For now,....we've got a wedding to attend and a week long vacation to plan."