Chapter 3
1421 Words
Saturday finally came.
Rita already sent me a text with the address of the restaurant in
GRA where I would be meeting with Mr James at 4 p.m. I told
my parents that I was going for a friend’s birthday party. They
consented without hesitation and asked that I return on or
before 9 p.m. I wasn’t surprised they let me go without asking
too many questions as they usually did. The situation with the
school fees was weighing heavily on their minds, amongst the
many other challenges they already had to deal with. Poverty
can be such a b***h. It ripped them off of their thoughts that
moment.
I carefully applied my makeup, then slipped into one of the
dresses Rita gave to me and put on my new sandals. They
looked as cheap as they were, but they would have to do. The
wig Rita lent me was so long, silky and curly, and I knew it must
have cost her lot of money. Running my fingers through it, I
wondered when I would be able to afford these beautiful things
myself. I put it on, and my image in the mirror took my own
breath away. I was looking astonishingly beautiful. I stared myself, amazed at the transformation a gorgeous wig and an
elegant dress could bring about. I’m clearly not made for a life of
struggle, I thought, as I lingered at the mirror, then picked up my
purse and headed out.
Since I had spent N4,000 on lingerie and cheering Martha and
Michael up, I was left with only N1,000. I had to take several
taxis and walk the rest of the way to the restaurant. Rita would
not be pleased, but then, she would never find out.
I got to the restaurant and followed the instructions Mr James
had left for me. He had sent me a text message earlier that he
would be about fifteen minutes late but he already booked a
table for us. All I had to do was to give my name to the waitress,
sit tight and wait for him to arrive. I followed his instructions
and did as I was told.
“First time here ma’am?” the waitress asked me.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Would you like to order or wait?”
“I would prefer to wait but please, can I have water?” I had
become thirsty while hopping from taxi to taxi, and after
trekking under the scorching sun, I was totally parched.
“Room temperature?” she enquired.
“Yes.”
I glanced around me. Everyone looked so classy and coordinated.
The waitress returned with my water and I quickly downed it,
then leaned back in my chair and waited patiently. It wasn’t long before a handsome man walked up to me.
“Are you Cecilia?”
“Yes.” I said.
To be honest, he was not what I imagined. I expected someone
old and ugly, and I had prepared my mind to endure his
company and whatever else he needed just so I could achieve my
dream, but the man standing right before me was the complete
opposite of my thoughts. Rita said he was in his 40s, but he
looked younger and was dressed in a fitted black suit. His nice
full beard and neat haircut enhanced his youthful good looks
even more. I was happy with his physical appearance as it was
better than average. That gave me a measure of hope.
“Hi. Why didn’t you order anything?” he asked as he took his
seat, his eyes never leaving my face.
“I was waiting for you. Good afternoon, Mr James.”
“Please call me James.”
“OK. It’s nice to meet you, James,” I said, trying it out. It felt
strange calling him just by his first name. After all, he was at
least 20 years older than me, and we barely knew each other,
neither were we friends.
“You look very young. And naive, in fact. Not what I expected
at all. So tell me, how old are you?”
I didn’t forget that Rita told me to lie about my age, but what
was the point of lying? The truth would eventually come out
some day, so why not tell it from the start?
“I’m 19 years old sir.” “You are young, too young. You shouldn’t even be here, where
are your parents?”
“They are at home.”
“Do you even know why you are here?”
“No sir.”
“A naïve little girl, all right. Well, you are too young for me, and
I honestly don’t have the time or the energy for the childishness
and drama that would come with dealing with someone of your
age. Here is what’s going to happen. We’ll have a nice meal,
you’ll go home, and you’ll have to lose my number. OK?”
I was so intimidated by his confidence that I simply nodded,
unable to say anything in my defence. At that point, I realized I
had sabotaged myself by telling the truth. It was absolutely
unnecessary. I should have listened to Rita.
He beckoned to the waiter and ordered fried rice, chicken, moimoi, and salad.
“What will you have?” he asked me.
“Same,” I said, feeling smaller and smaller by the minute. I lost
confidence.
We talked over lunch. Actually, he talked and I listened, speaking
only when I had a question. I said nothing about myself. I found
out he was a divorcee, and that he and his ex-wife had no
children together. He worked for an oil company, spending two
weeks on the rig in Port Harcourt, and his two weeks off in Lagos
where he owned a home. He didn’t have many friends, and he
went on a vacation twice a year Listening to him, I concluded he was a hardworking man who
had a lot to say, and I could see he really needed company.
Unfortunately, I had blown my one chance at escaping my life in
Port Harcourt and embracing a promising new life in Lagos,
which I had always dreamed. What would I tell Rita? Who
would help me now?
“I’ll get you a cab now.”
His voice snapped me out of my thoughts. He was on his feet
already. Our date was over.
“Here,” he said, handing me a bundle of N1000 notes. “That’s
a N100,000. Take care of yourself, and never call me again. You
understand?”
“Yes. Thank you very much, Mr James.”
“I asked you to call me James,” he said as we walked towards
the reception. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”
He was right. It didn’t matter. I would never see him again.
Tears threatened to embarrass me, and I blinked them back
furiously. The last thing I needed was to reinforce his view of me
as a “little girl”. I had to let everything slide.
He stopped a cab outside the restaurant, and I got in without
saying anything.
“Be careful,” he said softly, and turned back towards the
restaurant.
As I watched his retreating back, I finally let the tears I had been
holding back. I had such a perfect chance to make a nice man
happy while achieving my dreams, and I blew it. “Sister, where we dey go?” the cab man asked.
I sniffled and wiped my face with the back of my hand. “Diobu.”
As we left GRA, I continued to lament the way I f****d up and
how I was never going to leave Port Harcourt because I messed
up by not following a simple instruction not to tell him my real
age. However, as we crossed over to the other side of town,
brighter thoughts started to chase the cloud away. I just got a
N100,000 for no reason. If I could get this much out of him for
doing absolutely nothing, how much more could I get if we got
together? I decided I was going to obey his rule for a week
before calling him. Maybe, I could convince him to help me.
Perhaps, when he gets to hear my plans for school and life, he
would change his mind. What was the worst that could happen?
He would say yes, or he would probably say no.
- Writer
