APARTMENT 7 EPISODE 3 ARISHA Mr Aderibigbe is on his phone and laughing at something the person at the other end of the phone is saying. I concentrate on watching the brown air conditioner sitting on the wall beside his desk churning out dry dusty air while making loud grating noises. “Oh she is a very bright girl…” I look up at Mr. Aderibigbe with a smile, and he smiles back, returning to his conversation in the next minute. “Yes, Monday will be fine….thank you.” Mr. Aderibigbe ends the call and I sit back comfortably to watch him. “So Mr…James says you can come to his office tomorrow.” I clap in excitement and then remember that the man sitting opposite me is not a cordial friend but a lecturer. I lower my hands and look serious, but Mr. Aderibigbe is clearly amused because he is smiling at me now. “You are clearly excited about this.” I clasp my hands over the notes on my lap and nod at Mr. Aderibigbe. “Yes sir, I am.” “But,” Mr. Aderibigbe says, holding up a finger. “Make sure to acquaint yourself with the risks involved.” “Yes sir.” Mr. Aderibigbe nods and searches among the heap of papers on his desk for something. He finally comes up with a plain white sheet of paper. I watch him pick up a pen on the table and scribble furiously on the paper. When he is done, he holds out the paper towards me. “The address of the newspaper. Mr. Sunday says you can visit on Monday.” I look at the paper in my hand and back to Mr. Aderibigbe. “I am not sure I know where Central Area is.” Mr. Aderibigbe begins to tell me how to get to central area. I listen hard but after some seconds of trying, he notices the lost look on my face and stops. “Do you have anyone here in Abuja?” I start to shake my head, but Mr. Aderibigbe is talking again.. “The person you are staying with?” “Oh…I do.” “Just give that paper to the person and have them take you there.” Ladi’s scowling face flashes before me and I shake my head resolutely this time. “I am sure I will be able to find the place myself.” Mr. Aderibigbe gives up trying to convince me with a small shrug. “Either way, just make sure you see the man. He will be happy to put you through on what you need to know about investigative journalism.” “Thank you sir.” “He might even give you your first assignment.” I nod, almost salivating at the thought of walking the streets of Abuja, pen and jotter in hand, looking for information to nail corrupt government officials. My dream. ********************************** LADI I wait as my uncle steps away from his praying mat and rolls it into a small bundle. Uncle Hassan is dressed in a gray jalabiya and smiling when he turns to me. “So how are you today?” I drop my left leg from where it had been balancing on my right knee and sit up striaght as uncle Hassan sits down with a sigh on his brown swivel leather chair. “Great,” I tell him, giving him a cheerful smile. My uncle nods, picks a gold case from the end of his gleaming desk, opens it and producing half rim reading glasses from it. Picking up the newly printed papers before him, he begins to read, lips moving as he intermittently flips through them. Finally, he takes off his glasses and hands the papers over to me. “Janet got it this time around. The errors have been taken care off. You can take that to Mr. Uchendu.” I lift up my eyes from the figures on the paper and look at my uncle. “Yes sir.” “Ordinarily, it shouldnt take them long to approve the amount for the contract,” my uncle says, turning to look at his mobile phone. “I have already spoken to our suppliers in South Africa.” I have a question about the bidding process for the contract my uncle has assigned me to. “Mr. Uchendu seems to suggest that the bidding was a quiet affair. Is that the case?” My uncle weighs in on the question, tapping his chin thoughtfully with the earpiece of his reading glasses. “Well,” my uncle says at last, lowering his glasses to the table. “The thing is, we have had a long record of doing business with them, so the bidding is usually just a mere formality…..mere protocol.” “Hmmm….closed bidding.” Uncle Hassan shrugs. “Well…if you want to call it that.” We move on to the topic of preparing a space for me in his company to formalize my position as a managing director. My uncle gives me his secretary’s number for communication over new office furniture and whatever needs will come up in the course of decorating my new office. “Thank you sir.” Uncle Hassan asks if I have spoken to my parents and I shake my head. He picks up his mobile phone and calls his sister, my mother. I listen to the conversation, one mind on the task of dropping the quotation for the supply of the advanced paper made from cotton that my uncle has been supplying the securities and minting company for years at Mr. Uchendu’s office on Monday morning. “Oh…he is here with me….hold on for him,” my uncle says, beginning to pull the phone from his ear but he returns it back to his ear again. “Tau, I will tell him to call you then. My regards to Aminu.” I stand up from my seat the second my uncle ends the call. “I have to go now.” “Your mum says you should call her soon.” “I will.” Uncle Hassan nods and waves me goodbye. He knows I will be here again tomorrow. Maitama is my second home. ******************************* ARISHA I walk into the kitchen, holding the piece of paper I picked from the coffee table minutes ago. There are frozen foods in the fridge if you are interested. Short but welcome all the same. I am pretty much still out of my depths when it comes to moving around in Abuja and locating a fast food restaurant had been one of the agendas I forgot to fulfill in my hurry to return to the apartment before darkness descended on the city. Talking with Mr. Aderibigbe had taken all of my time. It was a good thing Ladi had remembered to give me a spare key this morning before leaving the house because he has still not returned back to the apartment yet. I open the fridge and find it stocked with several uncooked and canned items. There are a few cartons of yogurt and fruit juices. Holding the door of the fridge open with one hand, I open the freezer compartment with the other hand. There I find a transparent plastic bag of frozen chicken. I reach for it and move it to the kitchen sink. I return back to the fridge and pick up another plastic bag containing fresh fruits of tomatoes and pepper. Time to whip up some dinner. Thank you Ladi. ************************************* LADI The smell hits me the moment I open the living room door, and then the singing follows suit seconds later. It is supposed to be a hip hop number but she is happily singing it off key. I close the door gently and lean on it, listening to her enjoy herself. After some minutes, I pull myself away from the door and walk on quiet feet towards the bedroom. For some reason, I want her to be oblivious to my return, but that is not to be as she appears at the door of the kitchen just as I am walking past it. Arishas eyes light up and her lips turn upwards at the corners when she sees me. “Hi.” I stop and nod at her, feeling very awkward. Who creeps in their own apartment? “Hello.” “Thanks for stocking up the fridge with food,” she says, one thumb pointing backwards at the kitchen. I shrug and almost tell her that stocking up the fridge had been Baba’s idea but something in me is happy to bask in the glow of appreciation. “It wasnt much of a problem,” I tell her with a shrug. “Okay.” I resume walking to the room. “Erm…Ladi?” I stop and turn back slowly to the woman wearing a far too short shorts and round neck pink doll top that emphasizes her full breasts. This time I frown because my brain is processing too much physical information. “Yes.” I notice her smile slips as she notices my frown. She straightens her spine and squares her shoulders. Fighter pose. Her voice is cool when she speaks. “I wanted to know if you would like me to put out a plate for you.” I shrug at her, suddenly wanting to make amends for putting her on the defensive with my frown. “I am sure that will be okay.” She nods at me, relaxing her shoulders slightly before turning back into the kitchen. As soon as I close the door of my bedroom, I walk to my bed and sit down, pondering my reaction to Arisha. I know I should probably try to be more friendly towards her. I bend down to tug at my shoes. I should try conversation one of these days, maybe this evening. Maybe now. ******************************* ARISHA I return the pot to the rack above the cooker and wipe my hands on the napkin on the kitchen counter top. Satisfied that the kitchen is clean enough, I walk to the door and switch off the light. Ladi is walking out of his room just as I am walking towards the guest room. He stops and regards me with what seems to be a curious look. “Err….are you going to bed now?” I shake my head. “No.” His eyes narrow and then he shrugs. “Oh okay.” “I am going to take a shower and then….maybe read.” Ladi nods and begins to walk past me to the living room. “Cool.” I turn and follow closely on his heels. “Your food is over there,” I tell him, pointing to the dining table even though he can’t see me. He stops and stares at the ceramic covered bowl before slowly making a beeline for it. He mutters his thanks and pulls a chair out to sit down. I stand and watch him nervously. What if he doesnt like my food? What if the pepper was a little too much or the salt, more than was required? I wait with bated breath as he opens the bowl, looks into it with uncertainty and then digs tentatively into it with the spoon I laid beside the bowl. When he doesnt fall to the ground spluttering and clutching his throat, I breathe out in relief. “So…um…going to my room now.” He abandons the spoon to nod at me. “Okay…and thanks for the meal.” I nod back and hurry away from him before I give in to the temptation to smile foolishly at him like a child. ************************************ LADI The moment I hear the door of the guest room closing, I lean back in my chair and forget the food. I am not really hungry and the stew plastering the small heap of rice is leaving a hole in my throat from being ninety nine percent pepper and ten percent tomato. Then there is the problem of using spoon to eat and the bowl that makes me feel like a glutton. Flat plates rule. Somehow I find myself smiling at the memory of Arisha watching me anxiously as I tasted her killer stew. Careful not to make a sound, I stand up from the dining chair and head for the kitchen. I uncap the first bottle of water I lay my hands on and thirstily gulp down water. Done with emptying the water in the small bottle down my throat, I press than the foot pedal of the metal bin behind the kitchen door and discard the bottle in it. I decide to return back to the living room when my phone vibrates against my thigh. I pull it out of the pocket of my slacks and stare at the caller ID in annoyance. “What do you want?” “I am coming to Abuja.” I massage a sudden sore spot at my neck. “No, you are not.” “You can’t keep me away.” “Listen Raina, whatever we have is over. Why is that hard to understand?” “You were angry. You did not give me a chance to explain.” I lean on the edge of the kitchen countertop, feeling suddenly weary. “I won’t be picking your calls next ti –“ “I spoke with Halima,” Raina tells me, her voice quiet and determined. “I have the address to your house.” “Halima gave you my address?” I do not wait for Raina’s response before I end the call and punch my keypad, searching out my immediate elder sister’s number. Halima picks the call after three rings. “Hey Ladi.” “I just spoke with Raina now and she claims that you gave her my number.” “Yes I did,” my sister says jovially, oblivious to my rising anger. “Why?” “Because she asked for it,” my sister says, after a short pause. I sense the confusion in her tone. I take a deep breath to calm myself. My break up with Raina was quietly done so I dont blame my sister for being unaware of that fact. “You should have asked me first.” “At first I thought about asking you because I was wondering why your girlfriend does not have the address to your house but it skipped my mind later.” “Okay. Well, she is not my girlfriend anymore.” My sister is shocked, then sorry and then shocked all over again. I wait for the expressions of disbelief to end, my mind already on the possibility of Raina’s visit. “So what are you going to do?” I look down on the tiled floor and count the number of squares close to my feet. “I will figure something out.” Tired of discussing my ex, I tell my sister goodnight and end the call. Dragging myself from the counter top, I leave the dark kitchen and walk to the living room, that is when I see her standing beside the dining table. ******************************* ARISHA I hear him talking on the phone as I make my way from the room. Hoping to see him at the dining table, I am surprised to find it empty. The bowl of rice is still sitting open on the table and I walk towards it, feeding my fear with all kinds of negative thoughts. My fears are confirmed by the mound of half eaten food winking wickedly at me from the bowl. I turn in the direction of the kitchen where his voice is coming from. I will figure something out. I step away from the bowl and stand a respectable distance away at the end of the table. He comes out of the kitchen and the worried frown on his face is replaced by surprise and maybe guilt? I raise my hand in a wave as if I am just seeing him for the first time. “Hi.” The salute of a failed cook. “Umm…” Shuffle. Shuffle. He is clearly uncomfortable. I wonder briefly if he was planning to empty the bowl before I returned to the living room. I try apologizing for my poor culinary skills. “I am sorry the food was not good enough.” “No…” he begins, shaking his head. “It is not you. It is me.” I almost smile at the famous break up line but I find something else to do with my facial muscles. I tense them up. “Okay.” We size each other up like adversaries and soon he raises one brow at me. “Did you want something?” I forget the heartbreaking sight of that bowl of rice and concentrate on my mission. I have decided to take the risk of asking for Ladis help in locating the newspaper house. “I have an assignment on Monday…at a newspaper house….” I stop and watch his face. Unreadable. I decide against giving up and press on, “I have the address, but I am not sure I will be able to locate the place.” “Oh…I see.” “I’d appreciate it if you helped somehow.” We lock gazes and I see his left eye narrow a little bit. “You can talk to one of the security guards when you are ready to go. They will describe the place to the taxi driver.” I nod brightly at him, feeling oddly disappointed. “Okay.” He nods back, pursing his lips as he does. “Goodnight then.” “Yeah…goodnight.” In the bedroom, I climb into bed, pull the covers over my head and tell myself that worse things have happened to me than having my food and friendship rejected. ********************************* LADI I stand and stare at the door of the guest room, mentally kicking myself. What was I thinking? I could have just offered to take her to the newspaper house myself. I throw my head back and groan silently. “I wish my life was simple again.” As I ponder my difficult situation, my eyes fall on the bowl of rice. I walk towards it and try to make amends by carrying it to the kitchen and setting it reverently on the kitchen counter top. I steal out of the kitchen and the living room, eager to shut myself away from the reality of bruised egos and women who want more than I can give. Alone in my room, I find myself straining to hear sounds from the other room but there is only a resounding silence. I try music, but even the soulful strains of jazz does nothing to relieve my guilt. Unable to take it anymore, I remove the headphones from my ears, push out of bed and head for the guest room. ****************************** ARISHA When I hear the knock on my door, I dismiss it as my overactive imagination, and then it repeats itself, again and again. I jump out of bed and stumble for the door, dragging the sheets with me. Ladi is standing at the door looking apologetic. He looks briefly at my short night dress and the sheets I clutch self consciously to my chest before looking back at my face again. “Sorry to intrude…I just wanted to tell you that I can drop you off at the newspaper house on Monday if you like.” I am surprised and, in a very pleasant way. I nod my thanks. “I appreciate it.” “Cool.” “Cool,” I repeat after him for no reason. “Goodnight again.” “Yeah.” Once he turns his back, I close the door and stroll to the bed, feeling a little better than I did thirty minutes ago. By @umariayim umariayim
Posted on: Thu, 15 May 2014 08:04:50 +0000