TWISTED

The meeting

I sat on the floor, in a corner of the room, naked in a pool of blood shivering, and sobbing those heart wrenching sobs that although inaudible almost threaten to take the sheer essence of your life. The only man I have ever loved, the only one that had ever truly loved me lay dead a few feet away from me a kitchen knife pierced to his side.

Anita still couldn't believe what had happened. Her Tunde was lying dead on the floor, it wasn't up to an hour ago that he told her he loved her, and that was the first time he had said it over their two year relationship. Her mind was still trying to process the information that this magnificent male specimen all 6 ft 5" of him was in love with her, and had just popped the question she had wished to hear from the first day she met him.

The day I met him, it was at the airport on my way from Port Harcourt to Abuja. I was sitting at the waiting lounge, my flight had been delayed for four hours, I was sitting down there angry and hungry with a book in my hand, but I could barely get past the first page. I closed my eyes and opened them at intervals impatiently awaiting the announcement of my flight. During one of the many intervals when I opened my eyes, I was looking directly at this Adonis. He was trying to get through security at the entrance of the waiting lounge. I stared at him from that moment till he got through the door, took a seat opposite me and concentrated on a newspaper. I stared at him until my flight was announced thirty minutes later. I was so sorry to leave.

 Anita couldn't stop thinking about him all through the fifty minutes flight. He wore a brown blazer casually thrown over a white shirt, tucked into blue jeans and held together with a brown belt; he finished off the look with a pair of lovely brown loafers. She loved a man who knew how to dress his body, and there was no doubt this one sure knew how. She could picture them together, no, scratch that! She’d pictured them together in every single position from the moment she saw him at the door, she saw them at the cinema, having lunch, and sharing bodily fluid. It was love at first sight. Love, that word again.

I was in love with the handsome stranger, and that gave me the creeps, the last time I was in love with someone we both ended up at the hospital, he in intensive care and me for psychoanalysis.

****

Anita had been seeing Peter for a while; he was kind, supportive and understanding. He was the kind of man every woman wished for, reliable. He was always there whenever she needed him, he told her he loved her, and she believed him. Everything he did was proof of his love.

He understood me from the first moment we met; he knew I had deep trust issues. I would snoop through his phone, e-mail, Facebook inbox messages; I would even stalk him on twitter. Everything usually checks out, there was never anything out of place. The first time he caught me going through his text messages, he was so angry that I had invaded his privacy; however, from then on, I had free rein on his ‘privacy’. I would ask questions that could only be as a result of snooping, and he would laugh, and say, 

“Snooping again, are we?”

It used to make her laugh when Peter called her “Sherlock Holmes”, he would tease her about wasting her detective skills on him, and she usually responded by saying, ‘Fortunately for me, you are as clean as a whistle’. So, it came to Anita as an utter shock one beautiful Saturday morning when Peter walked in looking as though someone had just died. He sat on her couch, she immediately rushed to his side, wondering what could be wrong.

‘You know I love you, right?’

‘Of course baby, I know you love me’

What was wrong, where was he going with this. When he finally spoke up, I was shocked, to say the least. He told me he was getting married in two weeks, I believe he said some other things after that, which might have been an explanation or maybe not, the truth was all I heard was his getting married in two weeks.

Anita could still feel the goosebumps on her skin from Peter’s betrayal, how do you tell someone you love them and that you were getting married to someone else all in one breath? The events of the weeks that followed were still a blur in her mind. 

 They told me that I ran him over with my car the week before his wedding. I was taken into police custody for a few weeks when the police couldn't get any word out of me, I was taken to a specialist hospital for psychiatric evaluation.

****

Fifty minutes later, her flight had arrived Abuja and she was waiting for her luggage at the baggage claim area. The arrival of another plane was announced; she decided to pay attention to the entrance just in case “Idris Elba” was on that flight. 

He strode through the entrance as though he owned the entire airport, there was something about him, an aura of entitlement, it wasn't quite arrogance, but it was a confidence that almost seemed as if it was overstepping its boundaries. I realized that I could actually stare at him all day without getting tired.

Her luggage arrived but instead of leaving she decided she couldn't wait for fate to bring them together, she had to do something. She took a few short steps into the arrival lounge, took a seat and waited patiently.

For the third time that day, I watched him walking into a room, I took a quick glance at myself. I had on a dark blue tiny outfit that was a cross between a blouse and a dress; usually, because it was too long to be called a top and too short to be a proper dress. My tiny braids were held in a bun on top of my head. I was wearing very little jewellery; tiny studded earrings, a dress chain with a round pendant, it had a butterfly on one side, and the words “Quantum Science, hope for the children” on the other side. , the only make-up I had on my face was lip-gloss, my beautiful full legs were on display for all to see my feet were covered in sequined silver-coloured ballet flats. I am beautiful there was no doubt about it, I have been told severally that my smile could light up a room, I thought to myself that it wouldn't be a bad idea to test just how true that statement was.   

‘Excuse me, do you have a car waiting for you?’ he turned at the sound of my voice,

‘Erm, not really… you?’ that was said as an afterthought, he probably didn't want to seem rude by ending the conversation abruptly.

Anita responded that she also didn't have a car waiting for her; they decided to share a ride into town, as it happened they were both staying at Wuse II. They sat quietly throughout the drive, just as he was about to alight in front of a two-storey building on Aminu Kano crescent, he stretched out his hands for a handshake,

‘The name is Tunde Ayoola, sorry I wasn't such a good company, I have a lot on my mind. May I have your mobile no?’

‘Anita Esaro, and you weren't a bad company, I loved the silence.’ They exchanged numbers; by the time the cab got to her street, there was a satisfied smirk on her face.