The phone call from my cousin disorganised my day.
My mother was in hospital in Agbor and they needed N150,000 before they could admit her.
After fifteen minutes of trying to make a transfer from my phone, I decided to go to the ATM. I sent N250,000, adding an extra N100,000 to the N150,000 she had requested. My mother’s health had been fragile and I didn’t want to hear stories.
“Have you got the alert?” I called my cousin as I settled back at my desk.
“Ok, it must be network.”
After another 10 minutes I called and when she said she hadn’t received it I decided to crosscheck the numbers she gave me. Error. I had mixed up the digits and sent the money to the wrong number.
First, I sent another N250,000 then I called the bank’s Customer Care line.
“We will get back to you, ma,” the person said as if N250,000 was 10 kobo.
A day passed.
Then on the third day as I was lamenting a colleague said her sister worked at the bank and she would call and see whether she could help.
I gave her the account number and a day later she gave me a phone number.
“That’s the person’s number. You can’t say who gave it to you o.”
I thanked her and that night when I got home, I composed a text message and sent it:
“Good evening. My name is Kika. I mistakenly transferred N250,000 to your account. Can you kindly transfer it back to this account number? God bless you.”
I waited but there was no reply then when I was losing hope I heard a beep. What did I expect? “Who is this and how did you get my phone number?” came to mind but when I checked I saw an alert for N250,000.
That was when I called.
“Good evening. This is Kika. I am so grateful. Thank you. Thank you very much”.
“You are welcome,” the deep male voice said. “Have a good evening”.
That was it.
Ha, in this Lagos.
I was telling the story for the one hundred and tenth time and emphasising how sweet his voice was when Wunmi my friend and colleague pulled me aside.
“Ore, call this guy.”
“Kika, call the bobo joor. You obviously like him and see, any man who can return N250,000 so casually must be a catch and that way you can access him up close and besides time don reach to clear your cobwebs,” she said pointing to my crotch.
I had been celibate for four months since the last Yoruba demon lied his way into my pants.
It took two days for me to summon up enough courage. I sent a text. He accepted and we fixed a date at a Chinese place.
That was my first blind date.
“Are you Kika?” the unmistakably deep voice asked.
“Yes,” I said getting to my feet.
Dude was fine. He had thick bushy brows, deep set eyes and a well-trimmed beard.
“Sam. So, sorry I got here late”.
“It’s okay. I just got here myself”.
We sat down, we made our orders and while we waited I asked him what he did.
He was into Agric and ran a mid-sized poultry farm with his brother. He was the older of two boys and his parents were both professors.
“And I have read 1,000 books?”
“1,000 books, ke?” I asked mouth agape
“Yes,” he said laughing. “I like the way people react when I say that.”
“Wait, 1,000 real books abi children’s books with plenty pictures?”
“That’s funny. Real books. My girlfriend and I had a challenge to read 200 books before marriage but she died two years ago and I haven’t been able to stop”.
“So, sorry to hear that”.
“It’s ok. It’s been a while and life moves on”.
“It’s never easy. My dad died almost 10 years ago but I still remember”.
“So, let’s hear about you,” he said and I told him about my job and life in Lagos with no mention of all the Yoruba demons I had dated then, about my dad, my two younger brothers and my mum who was in poor health and about to retire as a school principal.
“Ahh, that makes you assistant husband, big sister and first child. Heavy stuff. Pele o”.
We both laughed as our order arrived.
As we ate I watched the precise way he cut his meat, how he chewed, the methodical manner he wiped his lips. I was a woman caught in a whirlwind of lust.
“Pardon me,” I said.
Lost in my lustful pre-occupations I had missed his comment.
“Oh, never mind,” he said looking bashful
“No, please tell me.”
“I said you have beautiful eyes and I like the way your lips curl up at the edges when you smile”.
“Wow, thanks,” I said, glad that he too was looking and liking what he was seeing.
And from that moment the evening took on a different aspect; we flirted and joked and laughed and traded barbs and I was sad when he said he had to leave to go finish some work.
“Every good date has to come to an end,” he said as I pulled open my door.
“Date?” I asked cocking an eyebrow.
“Sorry, If I misspoke,” he said.
“Oh no. I was going to say the same. I had fun”.
“Me too. Let’s do it again, please and my treat”.
“I will think about it,” I joked.
He gave me a peck and stepped back as I got into my car.
“Drive safe,” he called out and waved.
“You too,” I replied.
I got home. I sent him a message to say thanks. He replied. I showered. I changed into something sexy and comfy. I lit candles but sleep was nowhere to be found. My head was buzzing. I was replaying conversations, recalling jokes. My thoughts were filled with thoughts of Sam and it didn’t help that Wunmi was buzzing asking for details and more details.
Finally, as I decided to call it a day my phone buzzed. I didn’t want to pick it but I did so I could tell Wunmi to stop buzzing.
But it was not Wunmi. It was Sam.
“I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about you”.
I read the message again. My heart racing. He was feeling the same way.
“Me too,” I replied.
“Send me your address and I will come get you”.
He was at my door in 20 minutes and we were kissing before the door had fully shut. His lips on mine was pure nectar. His tongue was agile and I was putty and dripping wet by the time he parted my legs and buried his face in between my thighs.
He was a good lover with good stamina and he took me to climax after climax.
When I woke up the next morning with my head on his chest, it felt immediately like home and I knew I had found him.
The wedding is in February and oh yes, I have read 20 books since we met in October.