Chapter II
II
Mo pulled her thick hair into a bushy ponytail and then tied a bandana around her forehead. She slipped on leggings and a baggy tee and put her money into a small satchel. Then she left the house to buy the chin chin and other things they might need.
She bumped into a colleague of her mother’s at the supermarket entrance, and then into an old classmate near the fresh vegetables.
She kept the conversations polite and brief.
They asked the usual: Where was she working now?
(Nowhere.) Who was she seeing? (No one.) Did she want to be hooked up with such-and-such person, from so-and-so place? (No.)
She was holding a basket of items—toilet roll, onions, chin chin, insecticide and antibacterial spray.
When she looked up from selecting a deodorant, there was Golden Boy, staring right at her with his golden-coloured eyes.
He could have walked straight out of a Hugo Boss ad, in his pink shirt and cream trousers, sunglasses balanced atop his head.
She fingered the bandana. It wasn’t the look she would have chosen for seeing him again.
All the times she had imagined this scenario, and she had imagined it several times over the past three years, she had been wearing something fitted, in a bold colour.
Her hair was blowing in the wind, her skin was glowing.
She certainly hadn’t been sporting an angry pimple in the middle of her forehead, or wearing a faded T-shirt.
She took a breath and tried to steady her nerves. As he walked towards her, she noted that amongst the contents of his basket was a pack of sanitary pads, a container of oatmeal and a carton of juice. The ring on his finger was gold, shiny and larger than she’d predicted. It didn’t suit him.
“Mo.” Her name was honey on his lips. He gave her a gentle smile and then a wave, even though they were now only five feet apart.
“Hey.”
“Long time.”
“Yup.”
“Fancy seeing you here.”
“Not so fancy. It’s a supermarket.”
He laughed, but she didn’t join him, and soon his laughter trailed off.
“You look nice,” he said quietly. “How have you been?”
“Fantastic. Wonderful. Superb.”
“Right.”
“Have I overstated things?”
He smiled again, the corner of his lip twitching. “Maybe a little.”
“And you? How have you been? How’s married life treating you?” Did she spot a flicker of uncertainty? He had definitely frowned, but then he corrected his expression. She wondered what that meant, even as she reminded herself that it was none of her business.
“I’m good. Also superb.”
They stood there awkwardly. She readied herself to say bye, but she was finding it hard to move.
“I should probably go.”
“Yea…probably,” he replied.
“Okay.” She gave him a tight smile, then forced herself to turn away from him, heading to the till. But when she glanced behind her, he was following her. She stopped and turned back to him. “Are you lost?”
“A little, I think.”
“What are you looking for? Maybe I can point you in the right direction.”
He smiled, and she heard it, even though he didn’t say it: You. I’m looking for you. They let the unspoken words settle between them, and then he mumbled something about plantain chips. They walked to the snack aisle together.
“So what are you up to these days?”
“This and that…”
“You’ve got to give me a little more than that, Mo.”
“Do I?” She pointed to the plantain chips. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Which ones? I always pick the blandest chips, so I’d appreciate the help.”
She didn’t have to play these games. She had a dog to feed, a book to read, and she definitely needed to start that job hunt.
Dog food was not cheap. But what harm was there in a discussion about plantain chips with her ex, who she was beginning to notice smelt of sandalwood and spicy musk.
A touch of vanilla and it would have been perfect.
She should have been on her way, but she showed him a pack of chips she was familiar with.
“This brand has many flavours,” she told him. “My fave is the pepper one. Then there is this one, which is…it’s not exactly sweet, but it is tasty. Personally, I prefer the brown ones. The yellow ones are not for me.”
“See, I knew you’d know what was up; you always were a professional foodie.” She had no intention of acknowledging the subtle reminder of how well he had known her. On another note, his scent was truly intoxicating.
“I’m going to go,” she said. “It was good to see you.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond. She headed quickly to the till, speedily and efficiently placing her items on the conveyor belt. She didn’t notice him come up behind her, until he was right by her ear.
“Let me pay. Please.”
She startled, and he reached out to steady her with a firm hand.
“What the hell?! You’ve cost me one of my nine lives.”
“I’m so sorry. But please, allow me to pay; it’s the least I can do.”
“You think paying a thousand naira will cancel my years of therapy?”
“You had therapy?”
“No.”
“Oh. Okay. Look, I…I just want to pay, for a friend.”
“We are not friends.”
“Ma?” asked the cashier. Monife realised they were holding up the line. She sighed and motioned to the cashier to ring up his items as well. Ten minutes later, they were standing together under the hot sun. This should have been the end of it.
“Did you drive?” he asked. Suddenly she knew what would happen next: he would offer to drop her home, because he was just that kind of guy, and she would accept his offer, because she never really had a choice in the matter. This was all predestined. None of it was in her control.
“Don’t you live in Ikoyi? My home is kinda out of your way.”
“And yet I still offered,” was his reply. She smiled and followed him to his car, a sleek BMW with brown leather seats. She inhaled the rich scent as she climbed in.
“Feeling the car?”
“Oh, this? Eeeeesh! I hope you didn’t pay full price for it…”
He laughed and reversed out into the street.
She could hear the engine purr. They drove in silence for a while, so she closed her eyes and leant back.
It felt as if they were in a vacuum. They were going nowhere and had nothing pressing to do.
Three years apart was merely a blip. They were together and would continue to be for all of eternity.
But then he turned off the engine and she opened her eyes.
They were outside the gates of her home.
She was slightly offended that he had driven her straight here.
He didn’t say anything, so she started gathering her things.
She felt foolish. She had let her thoughts run away with her, when he was simply being polite.
“Mo…”
“Yes?”
“I…I mean…I…”
“It’s all right. You don’t have to say anything.” This was all incredibly sad. She jumped out of the car. “See you later, alligator.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“You’re not going to ask?”
“Ask what?”
“What I’ll give you before I go.”
She blinked slowly, then held out her hand. He leant over, popped open the glovebox and rustled around in a bag. In the centre of her palm he placed a Haribo heart. And as she gazed at it, he started the car and drove away.