Emeka, …
Grace’s reaction made your eyes dreamy - you needed to sleep over the bitter feeling it evoked, but you couldn’t return home lest you miss the lecture you had by 4:PM. You decided to head to your faculty. Mayhap you would find someone to gist with and pass the time.
“Senior man,” you heard someone call from behind you. It was Toheeb, Hassan’s friend - there was no way you would miss his voice. He has a Yorubaic manner of pronouncing words, which you found funny. No matter how much you laughed at him, he did not care - not even a lecturer could stop him from completing whatever he had to say. As much as he looked like the dummy with his bald head and scarified face, he was a hothead - Hassan swore that he could finish his Law degree with a first-class.
“Oga mi,” you hailed him and shook his hand firmly.
“How far nah?”
“I day fine oo. You no even day show us your break light,” he lamented.
“Haba, no man. I have been busy lately,” you explained.
“Okay nah. If you say so,” Toheeb agreed.
You could tell that he did not believe you.
“Hmm. What about Hassan?”
“He done follow some girls go fah. You know your guy nah,” he submitted, and you laughed until your sides ached.
“Aren’t you going for Jum’ah?” you asked.
“I go go. But the thing be say; he get one girl way I day wait. Her name nah Jumai self,” he confessed.
“Boss Tee!” you hailed.
“No day whyne me nah,” he protested, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he stood in wait for the lady.
A few minutes later, Toheeb spotted her coming, and he began to adjust his looks. He practised a few words with his irritating American accent under his breath.
When she got close enough, he joined her on the way whilst you observed from a distance. They spoke for a while, and you noticed their faces light up time and again.
‘This dude is lucky,’ you thought.
Suddenly, the lady started showering him with abuse in Yoruba.
‘Damn! It did not go well,” you concluded.
After Jumai excused herself from his presence, Toheeb returned to your side dejectedly.
“I day go mosque,” he informed you.
“Okay,” you replied.
You realised he did not want to discuss his encounter with Jumai, so you let him be.
As he turned away, a message came in through your class’ WhatsApp group: The lecturer is not coming.
Happily, you flagged down the very first bike you came across and headed home. As Bolaji had left for Jum’ah prayer, you were home alone. As you undressed, a piece of paper fell out of your pocket. You picked it up and unfolded it. Across it were a phone number in blue ink and a message scribbled beneath it.
“I dare you not to call me,” you read it out.
“What a dare,” you wondered.
to be continued…
What do you think went wrong between Toheeb and Jumai?
If you are in Emeka's shoes, how would you react to the dare?
What else do you think?
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P.S: This work is purely fictional. Any semblance to actual persons (living or late), places, or events are merely figments of the writer’s attempt at keeping in touch with reality.
✌🏾 Ćao!
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