...again...again...I want to see you a...phone distorts the train of thought in the awake lull that sunrise brings...But before I can swear at it, a “hello beautiful” is heard from the vacuum on the other side of the maze that ICT is and was; especially at that time to me. I knew like I was psychic who it was...his voice had almost become completely part of me. “Morning Femi...”I replied, trying earnestly, but without success to eradicate a yawn-Divas never yawn in the ears of an INTEREST...*wink*.
“So Sleepyhead, brunch together an option? Ummm...Breakfast at mine today....settled. I’ll pick you up in an hr then we’ll have breakfast, drop a few stuff off at the office, go and see a client and see a movie deal?” I couldn’t even muster enough strength to say yes....I muffled an “eeek” and hung up...Shower, Sari-style dress and Slippers...and La Senza black thin-strapped lace...no silk is safer...silk it is...wait wth am I choosing underwear?? What gives? It’s just a blasted day out!
I get to the door before he does...praying earnestly to seem as though it didn’t matter that he was here, now, with me, like an answer to the previous night’s sub-conscious prayer. Femi looked divine...nothing looked overtly like he made an effort though, and that stung me hard. But the fact that he was wearing the cologne of the scent I had on at the exact same time made me begin to think he may have combed his dresser for this little number...like dad always said, Thierry Mugler is a genius...but what was he trying to prove?
*****
At his house, he revealed that we were having Lasagne. It was midday...His flat was a street away from mine I realised. I had just moved into a new beach-flat-style estate in the umpteenth Lekki/Epe extension. It was hard to persuade dad to let me live on my own as a Law student-artiste-ghost writer. I had to get the cash first, set up moving and decor and agree to a bi-weekly trip to the mainland to get his blessing...
“Adanna, you look amazing and the aura you possess even in silence is breathtaking”, he said after we set the table in complete silence. I smiled, thanked him and proceeded to get juice glasses from a cupboard in the kitchen which he had shown me when he alighted with a lovely bottle of white wine probably 3 years old and of French extraction. Sauvignon Blanc...even though there was meant to be a red on the table at this time, the fact that the pear undertones in the wine and his forced but light-hearted banter filled the room and made my heart dance made that white bottle deserve its place in the company of red meat-filled pasta...
6 pm. Mr Balogun, Femi’s client was a youngish man of thirty-nine, Managing Director of his aged father’s conglomerate of companies, he said. His request to see him was urgent, he thought, because their last court case had just been won and the money for his time had already been paid so he was not to see him so soon. While this information was being divulged, he also placed a note in my lap. I opened it with a sense of uncertainty and maybe a tad of apprehension.
I have been looking for a way to say this all day. I think I need to see a doctor.
Why?
You have captured my mind; so much so that to everything else I seem to have become blind.
You have brightened my life this last 23 hours...please tell me you would brighten it for longer...
Be mine...
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