P.s: This is not a love story.
I think it is universally acknowledged that this economy and love are incompatible. It is like eating Amala with ẹfọ riro. C’mon. It is hard. But trust me, it is harder than you think. Rice is at an all-time high, and transport is ridiculously expensive. Why is a 1km drive now #1,000?
I saw her from a distance. She was dark, but in a way, her skin reflected instead of absorbed. She had hoop earrings, nicely braided hair, and bright brown eyes. Her name made more sense. I understood it more than I did MEE305. Omolewa—this child is beauty.
Lẹwa was the sun to my cloudy day. I alighted the cab, from a safe distance, of course. I had to make sure she didn't see how I came. I walked over to her. Hoping she catches a whiff of the ASAD I had drowned myself in this morning.
“Hi,” she said or sang. It was hard to tell the difference.
“Hey,” I hugged her and pecked her cheeks.
“I hope I didn't keep you waiting,”
“No,” she said.
“I just got here”
“How,” I thought for a while. Taxi? We walked towards the Dominoes. Then, I remember a whisper from Jide's friend, Paul. He always knew the price of things but never bought any of them.
“Pizza is now 8,000 for the small size o."
I put my hand in my pocket to count my withdrawn cash. Hoping maybe some notes would magically appear. 1.2.3.4.5.6. The last note had a silky feel, so fifty naira.
“Hey, Lẹwa. Maybe we should try something more culturally appropriate.”
“Oh God. Yess! I have been thinking the same since.”
“So, pounded yam?”
“What else? She sneered. Amala?” she said mockingly.
We guffawed. All our steeze in the dust. We laughed like children. It was love at first Amala banter. She was the one.
The restaurant had a romantic ambiance. It felt like the only right choice. The scenery was decorated with iridescent lamps and stunning bamboo chairs. The scene even made her look more beautiful. The light shone on her face giving it an orange glow. Her lips were glossy, and I wish I could smear them with mine.
We walked over to the table nearest to the big chandelier at the center of the room. The waiter brought our menu immediately, and we settled.
“Ah! One wrap of pounded yam is ₦1,000. Tinubu!”
She snickered. I could see her pearly whites. It felt alright to pay even more. It was stunning how effeminate she was. Like a chick. Maybe that's where the term was coined from? I ordered two wraps for both of us and some egusi soup. She hinted at something about Amala not being able to pair well with egusi soup. I couldn't agree more.
I stretched my hands across the table to get hers.
“I want to know more about you, Lẹwa"
We talked so well that when the food came, l forgot I had even ordered it. It was so easy to talk to her. The jokes were so easy, and so were her smiles. Eating the food was fast. I seized her spoon when she wanted to do that deplorable thing of eating swallow with cutlery. We got water and dug into the food.
When we left the restaurant, the sun had given way to the moon and its minions. The scenery felt like a coming-of-age love story. The breeze danced around us, whistling sometimes. I held her close so she didn't shiver. Her warmth against mine was chilling. It was like I was catching a cold.
I ordered her an Uber. I winched when I saw what I had to pay. But this last cash would be worth it. I know. She was so close now. Looking at me in the eye. The song in the background was Tonight by Nonso Armadi. I leaned in to kiss her. She closed her eyes. I had played this scene over and over. But nothing could match this reality. The solemnity. The beauty.
It was only like yesterday when we became friends. I met her at the burial of a mutual family friend in the biggest Dome in Lagos State.
“Hey, sorry for your loss,” I said.
She smiled dryly. A lips formed a straight line.
“I am happy he would never have to witness Tinubu. He was a good man.”
“Maybe I should find myself a coffin then," I replied.
She laughed a bit.
“Hi, I am Lewa”
“You can call me Remi”
“Mind a stroll? Maybe clear your head a bit.”
We walked that day. I told her she looked beautiful in black. She told me she looked beautiful in everything. I would tickle her, and something tussle her hair while she pouts like a baby. We never talked much. We never had to. When she was around, I only wanted to have fun. And she made sure I always did. Even today.
This moment was going to be more than a first kiss. It would be an approval that friends to lovers is a troupe still breathing. When we were at nose length, she hugged me. Then, she patted my back. Thanks for today, Remi. You are a good friend. She pecked my cheeks and walked towards the curb to enter the car that had just pulled up. She disappeared into the streams of vehicles. Friends to Lovers troupe still exists, but apparently not for me. I fear for the next lady to meet me. There will be tears. But for now, I had to get home.
“Okada"
“Okada”
