My Pride 5

 CHAPTER FIVE

 

I eyed the street I grew up in, this very street made me tough, it taught me how to stand up for myself. The tall trees that stood at the corners of the boulevard which separated each building from each other, the tall fences that shielded one house from the other so that one’s neighbour had no idea what was going on in the other yard. I miss home, especially those times my friends would call me every day by 5:30 pm for block rosary. We will first stop at Pa’ Emeka’s yard to pluck mangoes and have him chase us in his feeble legs as he cursed at us while we laughed, feeling the adrenaline rush through our veins as we ran off. Because of my petite form I was always the one who would climb the tree. I put into practice one of the advantage of having brothers. I was skillful it was almost impossible not to take me along at every escapades. I wind down to let the sweet July air hit me on the face as the driver drives through the street. The air smelled different. Free. Nothing like the air in Lagos…it was peaceful here. Mom will be furious to have me back after her pleas. A smirk curled up at the corners of my mouth at the thought of Mike’s reaction when he eventually noticed what I have done to his designer wears most especially to his car tires. I deflated his tires last minute this morning before Adamu took me to the airport. 

As the driver wound up around the street that housed the building I grew up in, I decided at last minute to visit Amara. 

“Driver drop me off here.” I got down from the cab and paid the driver his money. I grabbed the only luggage I took from Lagos and my bag in one hand as I strolled the only walkway that led to the front porch. The sand that surrounded the area was still wet, an aftermath of the downpour. I love the smell of wet ground, it reminded me of farming season and the little creatures that scared the life out of me. 

I knock on the door, a resounding knock till the door pulls open and there standing in front of me was Amara’s mother. I pull my dark shades down so that she will recognize me. Her voice went into a high pitched tone as she screamed in utmost surprise, dragging me to her side, giving me a full long hug; shaking us side to side. Her arms were tight around my ears, I could not help but imagine my earrings pulling off with my earlobe. She smelled of Akpu and smoke. She pulled me away from her and scanned me head to toe. I wanted to shield myself from her gaze, self-conscious of her search for pregnancy signs. I can swear I saw disappointment in her eyes when she noticed there were no changes in my body. Since my marriage to Mike I have not returned home. I felt everybody knew I was without a child, at least my mother has yet to go for omugo. 

“Nno, welcome.”

she ushered me inside. Her arms wrapped protectively across my shoulders as she led us into her two bedroom apartment where she had brought up Amara and her five other siblings. I took a seat beside the television even though the power was not on, the seat was the only one that didn’t have its sides worn out and springing out with foams, it looked comfortable and nearer to the door. The wooden center table was outdated; I remembered when Amara and I would play whot on the table and how she hid some cards under her skirt.

“How is Amara?” I asked her in Igbo                                                 

“She’s in, let me go and get her. How is your husband?” she beams at me. I know she feels Mike is the man that changed my family’s situation.

“He is fine and doing very well.” It was so easy to hide my disappointments and failures with something simple as smiling.

“Thank God. Daalu,let me go and fetch her. Nno Nwa m” she disappeared through the door separating the living area from the other parts of the building.

I didn’t know why I was here, I should have gone home first before getting here. I’m not even sure I would want Amara to know what was going on with me. I looked at the altar that stood at the centre of the parlour; it hung on the wall like a book shelf and a white cloth spread on the body. Picture of Jesus and Mary slanted on the wall, a small crucifix, flowers and candle light stood on either side of the edges. Amara would always bow in front of the altar whenever she came back home from somewhere. She once told me that the parlour was the holiest of places in the house, when I told a little white lie, but she had tricked me number of times here when we played whot. 

“Who am I seeing with my eyes?” she squeaked in excitement and threw herself on me. I laughed as I held my childhood friend tight to my chest “Why didn’t you say you were coming back, eh? I would have prepared something delicious for you to eat. Nsukka’s finest.” She pecked me on the cheek like old times.

“I didn’t want to disturb you.” I laughed. She disentangled herself from my embrace and my eyes fell on her. She was beautiful. Back then in school, I was more like her sidekick, the one boys would go through in order to get to her. She had a perfectly shaped nose on an oval framed face. Her lashes were full and firm. Her skin was flawless, she had no skin care routine but was blessed with self-detoxifying skin. I asked her to turn around so I could see her full frame. She did so, slowly. I scanned her firm buttocks, I felt that was what those boys looked at first. When she turned, my eyes fell on her stomach. There was a small swell there enough to not be normal, I didn’t feel it when she hugged me because of my seated form. I took her left hand in mine; her fourth finger was graced in a shining engagement ring. 

“You’re getting married” I exclaim in disbelief. My feelings were mixed. I was happy for her but I wondered if she would have told me if I hadn’t come back. I guess she must have done her igba nkwu, waiting for the white wedding.

“I am” she replied in delight as she flashed her ring around. Wavering her hands like a pageant on a runway.

“When were you planning to tell me?” I hid my disappointment in laughter.

“I was but there is more to it.” 

What could there be? She was my chief bridesmaid in my wedding. I made sure to fill her in on everything going on in my life except from the fact of our difficulty in having a child. 

“And pregnant?” I didn’t know when it came out but it did. It sounded off like jealousy and disappointment. I guess I’m jealous; she didn’t even have to try.  

“Yes.” She sounded angry. “I’m pregnant”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound the way it did.”

“Oh, you meant that was the reason I’m getting married?” she eyed me. 

“I think I should take my leave, some other time.” Maybe it was beacuse of the absence of light, the room was becoming hot. I could feel sweat trickle down my spine.

“You should stay and wait for Chinedu.”

“Why?” my throat felt dry at the mention of Chinedu.

“My fiancé.” She sneered.