I could not even
drink myself to sleep that night. No alcohol could numb my pain and I
spent a large part of the night re-enacting the evening in my head and
adding all sorts of evil things I should have done to Femi as he left.
I could not pull myself together to go to work the next day and quickly sent an sms to my boss to allow me take the day off. I stumbled around my house in just my underwear, picking things up, arranging things.
I had Adele’s 21 album on repeat. Talk about setting the mood. Men, Femi hit me way-way below the belt. I had mumutized big time.
It was 8:30am when my phone rang. I didn’t bother to pick the phone, I didn’t want to talk to anyone that day. The phone rang a few more times, and I let it ring out.
Then my other phone rang, and I knew it had to be someone real close, since few people had that number. I stumble-walked into the room from where I stood in the parlour and checked the caller id. It was Ossy. I picked the call and put the phone on speaker as I flopped onto the bed.
Ossy: Hey babes
Me: Hi
Ossy: Dropped into your office and was told you called in sick. What’s the ish dear
Me: Yeah
Ossy: An an! Which one is this monosyllabic mode you are giving me now?
Me: Sorry
Ossy: Anyways, open your door, I’m here
Me: Where?
As an answer, my doorbell rang. I heard it both from outside and through my phone.
Me: What! (Shriek) You’re at the door. Ossyyyyyyyyy!
Okay, lemme tell you
about Ossy before you begin to wonder if all my travails have finally
left me delusional and I’ve started taking phone calls from an imaginary
person.
Ossy works in my office. He’s an oga (boss), so oil and gas money plenty, dashing dark dude, witty, intelligent and goes out of his way to make me happy. And men, when I say goes out of his way, I mean he wows me steady. Ossy doesn’t hide that he’s crazy about me, and wants me to be his woman.
I’m sure by now you are wondering if I am crazy. Here I am, going through hell and high waters to find a husband, and I have Ossy dying to make me his wife.
But I guess that’s the irony of life. Ossy being so available makes him just not desired like that and his sweetness sometimes comes off as desperately dramatic.
So he provides the shoulder that I cry on whenever my heart is broken (which is better than having Toke tell me “I told you so” in every gesture), the ears that listen to my tales of woe, and the balm that soothes and heals me.
Every time, he hopes; and every time so far, I have run out on him once healed. I know I’m gonna get possessive if he ever wants to marry another girl sha. By the way, Ossy is short for Ositalogbon Onisokame.
Each time I consider him, somehow, the thought of going from Oyin Clegg to Oyin Onisokame sort of does a Hulk Smash! And beats all such thoughts to death.
Anyway, back to today. So I put on a boubou and headed for the door. When I opened the door, Ossy’s wide smile greeted me and I couldn’t help but give him a tired smile.
“Seems you’ve gone down one cup size”, he said, grinning mischievously. I laughed for the first time since yesterday night. Ossy’s way of telling me I’ve lost weight is to point out that my boobs have become smaller. Nonsense shudren.
“I would say you look like a hot mess, but then you know that already.” He stepped in and gave inglorious me a big hug and I felt safe in his arms.
“First to make sure you add flesh.” He went into my kitchen and began to rummage through my fridge. In minutes, a beautiful aroma began coming out of my kitchen. Ossy came out and changed the music.
“No sad women singing about broken hearts for company, only dashing young men”. He slotted in Tu Face’s 'Unstoppable' album and did some silly dance moves.
A few minutes past nine, a sumptuous breakfast of bread and eggs and sausages was ready with steaming coffee. He served me on the couch and I began to break the bread at the edges. As I ate and the heat of the coffee warmed my hands, I began to pour out my woes to Ossy. He listened to me patiently and kept me eating as I spoke.
“Ossy, you want to get me fat and unattractive so no one else will like me abi?” I asked laughing. “Anything to achieve my aims,” he retorted, a sheepish smile on his face too.
Somewhere, something tugged at my mind and kept asking me why dependability was within reach and I kept looking for the super duper flyest hubby around. Toke had once asked me if I was not being followed from wherever I am from. Sometimes I wonder so too myself.
The shrill sound of Ossy’s alarm broke into our world and he quickly checked the phone. “Gotta go, appointment at DPR”. My mood took an instant nosedive.
He kissed my forehead and adjusted his tuck-in. Reluctantly, I stood up to go and let him out and waited at the door to hear the sound of his car leave and then dragged my feet to the couch. My house felt empty now that I was alone.
BBs are saviors at times like these. Going through updated status messages (and everyone does that jor) is an easy way to while away such time. I picked my BB up and noticed it was blinking. I had ignored it all morning, so I guessed I had tons of pending messages.
All the usual suspects had sent me messages. My mum. My girls. Kalu (RME) and hawt (as one of the commentators on the blog corrected me) Pastor. Most recent of my chats was one from Ossy. I quickly opened the chat to see what he was saying. I had two pending voice notes from him. I played the first and his voice came through.
“Hey dear. Go to your kitchen and look under your microwave. Do not open the second VN until you do”. He chuckled at the end of the message and I was so totally tempted to open the second one but decided to play along.
I ran into the kitchen and lifted the microwave up. My eyes widened when I saw what was there. A return ticket to Dubai and a 5 day holiday package. I quickly listened to the second VN.
Ossy’s voice sounded like sweetness now. “I think you need that break you’ve been talking about dear. I’m handling your leave already so you don’t need to bother to come to the office. Enjoy your trip. And call me when you get there o. Ciao”.
I stood dumbfounded. How could someone be so sweet? If it was 99% of the men I knew, for such a gesture, they would expect plenty payment in kind. I dialed Ossy’s number but he cut the call and I guessed he was in his meeting already.
I checked the flight details. I had only three hours to get to the airport. I hummed a tune as I packed up, wondering where in the heavens men like Ossy were made. Maybe I’d give him a chance when I got back from this trip.
***
To be continued...
Names have been changed to protect the identity of the narrator and other individuals in the story.
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