I’m stuck here,
under the hot sun, fanning myself with my hands. The man on my left raised his
phone to his ears and gave me a generous whiff of his under-arms and I almost
passed out! I wonder why there isn’t a waiting lounge at MMA’s Arrivals. Why do
they always make people wait outside, like suffering souls awaiting the arrival
of their loved ones. Or their hated ones, depending on what side of the street
you’re standing on. I’m here with my Best Friend and we’re awaiting the arrival
of his Girl Friend. I haven’t even met her yet and I hate her. Very much.
I’ve known Kayode
all my life. His Dad and mine both worked at NICON back in the day, when NICON
was the big, Strong, Reliable. We both grew up in the company house in
Surulere, and attended pampers Private School. Then we went off to boarding
school at Federal Government College Ijanikin and then to Unilag.
Growing up, it was
always Nneka and Kayode, Kayode and Nneka. I remember the Okonkwo children who
lived on the first floor used to call us Husband and Wife and I would cry
because they made it sound like an insult. Then in secondary school, I was
Defender of the Universe because he went through the shy, introvert phase while
I have always had a mouth that was too big for my tiny body. I could face off
anything and anyone and for some reason that still baffles me, I was popular
and was quite the Queen Bee. In Unilag, he became the Stud and I his wingman.
All this time, I
never had romantic notions about him. I hear a lot of people say it is
impossible for a guy and a girl to be really close friends without there being
feelings running amuck between them. I can say confidently that we were the
exception to the rule. Kayode was just like another one of my brothers. He
bullied and teased and lorded it over me just as much as my brothers. And when
Emeka Okigwe broke my heart in JSS3, he went along with my brothers to teach
him a very good lesson. I did my fair share of sisterly duties too. I can’t count the number of letters I have
penned or Vals presents I have picked out or the times I have scratched out
eyes. Yes oh, you mess with my Best Friend, I scratch out your eyes! I was
usually the Girlfriend who picked his
calls and said “he is asleep” when he
wanted to shake off some girl or the New
Girl who showed up on his arm just to show an Ex he’d moved on.
When it was time for
Masters, I was the one who made the decision for Brunel and he agreed of
course. It was even my idea to go all the way to Manchester from London, to
watch the Red Devils play. I’d felt we deserved a break after our first term
exams and all. That was where he met her.
She was sat on the other side of him at the stadium and for the life of me, I
didn’t even notice her or see her face. The Devils were whooping Chelsea’s ass
and I was too busy screaming myself hoarse to notice my Best friend chatting up
the Bird with the weird accent. Next thing I know, he’s on the phone 24/7 with
her and two weeks later, he took another trip to Manchester.
Funny how I never
even noticed him as guy like that
until she came along. Not even with all the other girls, and believe me,
there’s been a lot. That was when I
realized just how big a part of my life he was. How he would call me up in the
morning to ask what we were doing that day and how I would retort that we had
lectures, dhurr! Or how I would come
out of my apartment at the Bishop Complex and find him waiting for me and we
would walk to the bus stop together. How I would use him as a human buffer
against the wind during those cold winter mornings or how we would meet up
after lectures and he would buy me dinner or we would go back to my apartment
and he would cook. How we talked about everything and bickered over everything.
How my mother would call him and complain that my phone was never switched on
and that I never bothered to call and how he would calm her down with his sweet
talk and I would sit there and laugh about it and still refuse to speak with
her.
Now it was all
Halima this and Halima that. Now when he comes to my house, he puts her on
speakerphone while he cooks and I have to endure listening to that infuriating
squeaky voice with the wonky accent. Gosh, if I have to listen to anymore of
how she spent all her mohneh on Soondeh, I’m going to start tearing out
my hair.
She was born in Liverpool
to Fulani parents and moved to Manchester when she was sixteen. She’d never
been to Nigeria before and she’d decided to come now because of man (I’m not judging oh, I’m just
saying). She doesn’t speak any
Nigerian language, not even her native Hausa. She can’t cook (at least I can
cook even if I hardly ever do it), doesn’t know who Don Jazzy is (as in really!) and short of her name,
dark skin and green passport, she might as well be from Mars. What did he ever see in her?!
After waiting for
what seemed like forever, Kayode finally left my side and bounded towards the
entrance. He enveloped her in a bear hug, lifting her off her feet and spinning
her round and round and round. And round. It
aff do nah!
The first thing I
noticed about her was how really tall she was. She was almost as tall as Kayode,
which was saying something. My nose went up in the air instinctively, not that
I started to feel really short, no sir!
People have always said how Kayode and I balanced each other off nicely. She
was way too tall for him and they looked awkward together. Just saying.
“You must be Neh-karrr.” She said to me, her voice lilting up at the end of her
sentence in that way of hers that grates on my nerves. “I herred so moch about yer, it’s grrrait to finally meet yer!”
I plastered a smile
on my face and tried not to roll my eyes. Hard as I tried, there was no way I
could say “pleased to meet you too” without choking on the words so I just kept
my jaw-aching fake smile in place and wondered anew at the notion of looks that
could kill.
Right from the
moment she got here, he’s been glued to her side and I’ve been left to my own
devices. He didn’t even call me up to help proofread his quarterly report like
he usually does. I would have practically re-written the thing and would have
given him an earful about how deplorable his writing skills were. Then he would
nag me (again) about my unfinished books and how really undisciplined I was
with finishing any project and we would have had one of those stupid fights I
miss so much now. It’s been a week and we have hardly even spoken, not to talk
of squabbling.
Even today that they
(gosh, it feels weird referring to them as they)
invited me over, I might as well not be here. Kayode wanted to cook a
special meal for his Girls (rme) but
all that was going on in that kitchen was the kind of PDA that would make even
Cinderella puke, so I left them to it and came to watch Vampire Diaries on CBS
Drama instead. Well, looking on the bright side, I wouldn’t have to clean up
after him while he cooks. For all his culinary prowess, Kayode is not the
neatest bunny in the garden and sometimes I used to wonder if having someone do
all the cooking was worth the trouble it took to clean up after him. The guy
was a hurricane in the kitchen and it was really nice to have someone else do
the work for a change. I heard the back door open and slam shut. He was already
making her take out the trash, on the first week oh. That’s another Kayode
thing, he is as bossy as I’m lazy and can be a bully sometimes. He has this
quiet way of having his way, and whenever we disagreed on anything, I would in
my characteristic way shout my point while he would keep quiet, working his
silent emotional blackmail until I felt bad and gave in and apologized, even
when he was wrong. I smiled in contentment as I placed my feet on the glass center-table,
something that would elicit one of those silent stares from Kayode. Oh well, he
isn’t here to disapprove, is he? He’s too busy right now to go on and on with
his “Nneka don’t slouch” or “don’t leave your shoes in the hallway” or “don’t
eat all that chocolate” or “you watch too much TV” or “don’t leave that report
until the day before it’s due”. Maybe having her here isn’t such a bad idea
after all. To tell the truth, he’s been less and less of a grouch in recent
times. Really, for all my petty jealousy and unfounded dislike of Halima, I
honestly don’t like him that way.
Yeah I love him to bits, he’s been a part of my life for as long as I can
remember and I’ll always love him but I don’t love him. Heck, I can’t even imagine being in love with him. He
would drive me crazy and you can bet I’ll give twice as much as I get! We’re
Kayode and Nneka, Nneka and Kayode, and to make it anything else would simply ruin
it.
Halima poked her
head around the door and smiled at me.
“Yer
allrrait Love?” she asked.
Damn, as
much as I hate to admit it, she was starting to grow on me and I knew for all
my shakara, I was going to like her very much.
“Yeah, thanks!” I replied returning
her smile. (It was a genuine one, cross my heart and hope to die).
“Halima?” I said as she made to
return to the kitchen.
“Yes Love?”
“I’m really glad you’re here…”
