Homecoming
___________
As the days pass, I gradually recover from the chicken pox and manage to write my exams. It’s a relief to have that weight off my shoulders, and now it’s time to head home for the Christmas break.
While packing my bags, my mind wanders to what awaits me back home. I’m eager to be spoilt rotten, even if it’s for the first three days before Mama Gee puts me to work. I hope she doesn’t push me to help or learn the business this holiday because school life has been stressful and I’m just recovering. She keeps forgetting I grew up with the business. Tsk. Tsk.
Since Evans also lives in Lagos, the plan is to travel together. Strange. I sent him a message earlier and haven’t heard back.
My tummy growls, reminding me to get early morning meshai noodles. I’ll miss that. Certain conveniences are exclusive to the school area. I’ve gotten used to being pampered by Linda, who left yesterday evening for her home base in Ekiti. Since the holiday started about four days ago, the lodge has been quiet, with only a few students around.
I’m about to leave my room to get meshai noodles, when Evans appears at the doorway. He’s looking at me with a serious but worried expression.
I furrow my brows. It’s too early for him to be here. And… why doesn’t he have his luggage with him? “Hey…”
“Hi Fifi.” He gives a shaky smile.
I hope all is well. “Hi…”
“Um.” He leans forward, spreads his arms and holds on to the door frame. He looks so cool and in control doing that.
Heads out of the cloud, Fifi!
“Remember that lecturer I told you about? The one who suggested an impromptu project?”
“Professor Lati?”
“Yeah. Yes. That one.”
Leaning on one foot to steady myself for the news, I fold my arms. “What about him?”
“He’s demanding that my class must stay back for the project.”
“That’s crazy!”
“I know.”
“It’s Christmas holiday—barely a month of being away from this crazy environment.”
Evans assumes an upright position, folding one arm across his abdomen. “He told us to work on a project during the session, but we thought he was joking. Now he is holding it over our heads as part of our exams. I was completing project plans with my group mates when I got your message.”
I nod in understanding.
“I won’t be going home till next week,” he says, his voice tinged with sadness. “I really wanted to do the trip with you but—”
“It’s okay. I understand.” Too bad… the trip won’t be as I envisioned. I sigh. “You could have just called. Or responded to my message.”
He scratches the back of his head, a shy smile forming on his face. “I wanted to see you before you left and spend some time with you. I also want to see you off to the park.” His lips move as though he wants to say more but he stops, briefly holding my gaze.
“Evans, thank you,” I reply, mustering a smile. “I appreciate your concern. I’ll make sure to double-check the buses before I board.”
We stand, staring at each other for a moment. I can’t deny that our relationship has morphed into something more than friendship with, the way he has been there for me during difficult times. But I also can’t shake off the lingering thoughts of something else—someone else I want, and the unresolved feelings I have for him.
Evans clears his throat, breaking the silence. Curious, he tilts his head to the side. “Where were you heading to?”
“Oh, noodles,” I chuckle nervously. “I need to eat before this four-hour drive.”
“Is Ekene still going with you?”
“Yes, don’t worry,” teasing, I push his forearm, “I won’t be alone.”
He lets out a sigh of relief before reaching for the hand I left hanging on his forearm.
“That’s comforting.” He rubs my skin, sending a tingling sensation all over my body.
Heaven help me, I don’t know what I’m waiting for or what I want. This is not the first time Evans is holding, I mean, touching my skin. But this feels different. My senses are up and alert.
Eyes holding his, I dare him to try something. Anything.
This boldness could stem from the knowledge that my apartment building is almost empty. Or from curiosity regarding his intentions.
I can see the need and confusion in his gaze as he battles with my unspoken offer.
He blinks, as though he just recollected his location, then stills his hand that’s resting on mine. “Noodles.”
“Huh?”
He smiles apologetically, and I quickly pull my hand from his. “Yes, noodles. Do you want some too?”
He shrugs. “Why not?”
*****
Lagos-Ibadan expressway traffic is chaotic with cars and motorcycles impatiently roaring their engines and blaring their horns. The holiday cheer in the air could also be factor in the chaotic energy of Lagos’ traffic. I hold my breath, trying not to inhale the exhaust fumes the trailer beside us pumps out, as our driver weaves through the maze of vehicles.
Beside me, Ekene fidgets in her seat, eager to reach her destination. Throughout the journey, we listened to music, exchanging a few words, and sharing our excitement for the holiday break ahead.
As we approach Berger bus stop, our 18-seater bus slows down, signaling the end of Ekene’s journey with me. She leans forward for a hug, wishing me a happy holiday and we promise to catch up soon.
The passenger sitting by the door slides it open as we gather our belongings. Off the bus, we call out to the driver to open the boot. He comes around, waiting for a bike man to pass before pressing the lever.
It’s a typical December day in Lagos, filled with both the humidity of the harmattan season and the festive spirit that permeates the city during the holiday season.
As we wait for our luggage while other concerned passengers oversee the happenings from inside the bus, the scent of roasted plantain from the woman at the junction wafts through the air. Deafening horns and insults spill left and right. Music is playing from a distance.
Lagos!
So chaotic.
Getting our luggage, Ekene and I part ways.
Alone, I navigate the bustling streets of Berger, my heart racing with joy as I’m looking forward to being pampered. Banks and stores lined with colorful lights, shimmering tinsel, and giant wreaths that hang from lampposts, spread contagious holiday cheer. Sighting the Christmas decorations that twinkle and dance in the setting sunlight causes me to smile. I spot vendors selling Christmas ornaments and delicate figurines on the sidewalks, while the sound of cheerful high-pitched electronic Christmas carols from string lights fills the air.
It’s been a while since I last visited home, and the thought of reuniting with my family is exciting and nerve-wracking. The twins, my kid brothers David and Daniel, are home from boarding school. I try my best to stay away from home because, as the only girl and with Mama Gee’s main pepper soup joint being close to the house, I get overwhelmed with ‘womanly’ duties.
Don’t quote me wrong. Mama Gee is happy I’m in university, but she forgets how important my course is. All she thinks about is me being a woman and acting like one. She likes to think she’s a modern-day woman, but she’s so eighteen century.
My phone rings the moment I settle into a bus going to Ogba. Speak of the devil. It’s Mama Gee calling. She has called like ten million times to confirm my ETA.
“Hey mama…” I grin.
“Fiyinfoluwa Rachel Ajayi, where are you now?”
“Berger. My Ogba bus is almost full. Don’t worry, you’ll see me soon.”
“Ehn… okay. I’m waiting for you.”
“Okay ma.”
Lagos traffic is relentless, as always, but the driver navigates through the chaos with practiced ease.
The familiar landscape of Ogba appears, signaling my imminent arrival home. A sense of nostalgia washes over me as the streets become recognizable, lined with bustling shops and colorful houses that sit on a hill, holding countless stories.
Alighting the bus, I charter a bike that makes my ride home faster, although causing a dent in my pocket.
The festive spirit becomes even more apparent. Houses and stores are adorned with dazzling lights, their doorways stuffed with larger-than-life Christmas trees. Decorative wreaths hang from most doors, and some neighbors have gone all out with elaborate displays of twinkling lights synchronized to joyful tunes. Memories of childhood adventures and family gatherings flood my mind, causing a bittersweet smile to curve my lips.
The bike man turns a corner into our entryway, and I finally arrive at our family compound. My heart flutters as I catch sight of daddy standing by the entrance, a radiant smile on his face. The engine hums to a halt and with David’s help, I alight the bike.
Daddy opens his arms and I rush into them, embracing him tightly, as we exchange heartfelt greetings.
“You’re welcome my child,” he says in Yoruba, “I’m glad I get to see you again. Thank God for journey mercies.” He laughs when I remind him we saw about three months ago, at G-Ben’s graduation.
“There’s nothing like having your children at home.”
The sound of footsteps grows louder, and soon Daniel, the other twin, steps out of the house, looking taller and chubbier. I make sibling jokes and he laughs before suggesting to help with my luggage.
“Come, come, come.” Daddy hurries me into the house.
Inside, the warmth of home surrounds me. Sweet vanilla from the Air Wick air freshener teases my nostrils. Oh… the scent of home.
Trust Mama Gee to go all out with Christmas celebrations. In the living room, a Christmas tree stands tall in the corner, adorned with a myriad of ornaments collected over the years. Its branches sparkle with delicate baubles, shimmering ribbons, and twinkling lights that cast a soft glow on the presents nestled beneath its branches.
As we settle down, Aunty S?epe? who doubles as my big sister—she’s only in her mid-twenties—steps into the living room. In her soothing and warm voice, she asks about my recent bout with chicken pox. Scoffing, I shake my head as my mind instantly transports back to those days of discomfort. I recount the worry, the itching, and the isolation, punctuating the tale with moments of humor to ease their concerns. Daddy also joins with stories of little G-Ben having chicken pox which he caught in school.
G-Ben will not be home until the weekend because he works on the island. Traffic gets crazy during the week, so he stays with a family friend on the island.
Daddy prays for friends who stood by me during my chicken pox period and a fleeting memory surface in the depths of my mind. It is a memory of a time not too long ago, when I was battling with the discomfort of chicken pox.
Linda had gone to school while I was sitting in our faintly lit room, the itchiness of the blisters driving me to the brink of madness. My body was weak. My spirit longed for comfort and solace. And then, amidst the haze of my illness, a notification appeared on my phone—a message from Special.
My heart throbbed as I eagerly opened the message, hoping for a glimmer of concern, a question about my well-being. It read something like, Hey! It’s been a while since we last caught up. I hope everything is going great with you. Wanted to say hi and see how you’ve been doing!
Not what I had expected.
It was… a casual remark. Unrelated to my condition. Him doing what he does, reach out, then disappear.
I debated whether to divulge the truth—to share that I wasn’t feeling good, but a part of me hesitated. He would think I was seeking pity. I know him. He would call me, fret over the phone about me not going home in my condition and all that would be in my head would be that I forced him to call me.
So, I replied with a, Thanks for checking in on me. I’m doing great! hoping to God I sounded normal. What would he have thought if he saw me coated all white? Evans made it seem like it was no big deal, but Special…
I sigh.
“Are you okay?” Daniel asks, bringing me back to the present.
I nod, smiling.
“Are you sure? You looked sad.”
Trust Daniel to tell it like it is.
“I’m not sad.” I smile. “Just reflecting…” He raises a brow. “What? I’m simply grateful I have you all over-caring humans. And I have a home to return to! Em.. where’s Mama Gee?”
“You know the answer to your question.”