Posts tagged “Boyfriend

Refuge: Chapter 8

Posted on 30/10/2018

Staying annoyed was not a luxury Eli could afford. In this foreign land where Zoey was the only familiar face, separating himself even mentally would be foolish. He needed Zoey. Also, the fact that she kept digging her bony elbow into his side made futile his attempt to ignore her.

But he tried, for as long as possible, to keep his attention elsewhere. The ride was long and despite the AC blasting, Eli palmed the sweat from his face and rubbed against his thigh. He blamed it on the stifling heat permeating through the car metal and shifted in his chair.

The conversation in the car went on without him, Aunt Sophie filling Zoey in on her cousin’s wedding preparations. He picked up a few words of cathedral and coral beads but watched the scenes with Aunt Sophie’s warnings playing as a soundtrack.

Foilage collided into disjointed buildings that ran for a mile before tapering off to open land. He’d seen it for miles now since they left the airport. The dichotomy of the filthy rich and devastingtly poor existing together on the same dusty road wasn’t reserved to Lagos. He’d seen it many times driving with his brother Clement. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand how slums and mansions sandwiched between them could co-exist.

Miles later, the sun retreated as darkness fell over the bustling city. Only shadows and well-lit buildings remained and the traffic had eased away to only the Zoey’s welcoming entourage trucking along a smooth narrow road.

Eli suddenly sat up, spotting at the outline of a building resembling a temple in the near distance. “Is that…?”

Zoey leaned forward suddenly. “It’s a mansion.”

From the disdain in her tone, Eli glanced down at her. “Yours looks different?”

She frowned. “I don’t have a mansion.”

“But your parents do.” Eli arched a brow. “Am I prying?”

“There’s no sense in hiding who you are, Zoey dear,” Aunt Sophie interjected. “Not when we’re barely a kilometer from your father’s place. To answer your question, Eli, not many can live in this area. Real-estate here is in the billions.”

“Aunty, please.”

Eli barely registered the strain in Zoey’s voice and gaped at the well-lit homes built along the road. His sister-in-law Geri would salivate at the chance to decorate any of the grand architectural houses.

Cyrus turned the corner and the bright headlights of the Mercedez illuminated the street, revealing cars parked on either side of the road.

Aunty Sophie burst into laughter. “You can’t take the bush out of our people, no matter how far removed from the village we say we are. Do they think this is Olomo road?”

“Wow,” was Zoey’s only reply.

Eli pulled down the glass to peer out the window. The end of the narrow paved street came to a point where an elaborate metal gate barred further passage. Above the gate took his breath away. It was like a scene in a blockbuster movie; the kind where the camera pans out to display the tall and thick white columns that stood two stories tall, big grand windows beaming with light from activity inside and shadowed palm trees swaying in the breeze. If the camera panned further back, it would scan the acres of land that stretched for miles–vast landspace boasting of the owner’s wealth. Zoey’s wealth.

“Eli, we are hosting a door-knocking,” Aunty Sophie’s voice interjected Eli’s rampant thoughts. “That’s why there are so many people here.”

He could only nod, taking stock of the massive building before him. No doubt the mansion housed many rooms.

Zoey nudged his arm. “Ready?”

Though he couldn’t see her face, he imagined the hesitant smile there. She seemed to look more apologetic since they boarded their flight in London. It didn’t make him feel any better knowing that she somehow felt uncomfortable around him. He’d never been one to feel inferior about his status in life; his siblings were proud and grateful for their upbringing, and even his maternal grandmother wasn’t poor.

Being a middle-class American or a college dropout had never been a source of shame for him… he had his own life to live, and even though he wasn’t an engineer like Abe or even a missionary like Clement, Eli was proud of what he’d accomplished.

So why did he suddenly feel like the walls of the car were closing in on him?

The car stopped in front of the gate and a slender man stepped out, squinting at the bright headlights as he approached the car.

Aunt Sophie laughed and stepped out of the car. Cyrus did also, giving the young couple a brief time to themselves while they greeted the man.

Zoey’s fingers curved around his arm and clutched him a bit too tight. He frowned. Was she nervous? “You okay?”

“I haven’t been home in a while,” Zoey replied, her voice barely a whisper. “Don’t know what to expect.”

Eli was quiet. If she was this nervous about seeing her family, how did she expect him to feel about meeting them for the first time? The thought of her family staring at him with critical, scornful expressions was what nightmares were made of.

“Eleazar.”

He shook out of the thought instantly. Zoey only ever called him by his full name when she got serious or cross with him. He glanced down. “Hmm?”

“Promise me you won’t think differently of me or regret coming here after we go inside.”

The silence that followed stretched longer than she liked and Zoey’s eyes scanned his shrouded features, wishing she could read his expression. “Eleazar, answer me please.”

“That sounds ominous.”

Outside the car, Aunty Sophie’s laughter grew louder.

She pressed fingers into his skin. “Just answer, please.”

“I can’t promise that, Zo. You barely gave me any time to adjust.”

Zoey could imagine Nwando’s smug expression and shoved it clear from her mind. She scooted closer to Eli. “I was worried that you wouldn’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“My family.” Zoey heaved a sigh. “I never asked for this.”

“No one ever does. Not everyone gets to choose their family.”

There was something in his voice–she could only decipher it as pain from the contentious battle between his adopted family and his maternal grandmother about his wellbeing.

Zoey sighed again. “I can’t even begin to understand what you’ve gone through, Eli. But know that I didn’t mean to hurt you by keeping this a secret. It’s just not part of me. I’m not some spoiled-rich girl.” She wrinkled her nose even as she said that.

For years, she’d tried and failed at separating her parents’ reputation and status from her. For once in her life, she’d almost succeeded in America to be just a normal girl with normal aspirations and a normal relationship without questioning whether people approached her for what she carried, not what her parents owned. Eli was more than she’d asked for, and she didn’t want to lose that just because of her family’s increasingly-flamboyant lifestyle.

“I didn’t even know they renovated,” she snapped in annoyance. “I just don’t understand the need for all this space. My parents are empty-nesters, for goodness’ sake!”

Eli draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. “You don’t need to make excuses, Zo. I get it. Your parents are rich. So what?”

Zoey wished she could believe in his sudden bravado. But he’d only met Aunt Sophie, the tamest of her family members.

A rap at her window made her glance over.

“No fraternizing,” Aunt Sophie said in a mock-serious tone. “Let’s go. Khalid and the others will bring in our stuff. Khalid, remember Zoey?” She opened Zoey’s door and gestured for the young couple to exit.

“Ah, of course now,” the young man from inside replied. “No be small thing, our little madam don reach home. Little Madam, you’re welcome o.”

Zoey smiled gently, accepting the warm greeting of her father’s long-time chauffeur. The headlights illuminated his face, revealing the deep markings on his cheeks and his dark lips. At least some things stayed the same. “Thanks Khalid.” She scooted out of the car and stepped to the side so Eli could exit also.

“She’s not so little anymore,” Aunty Sophie corrected fondly, tucking an arm under Zoey’s and tugging her toward the gate. “Khalid, this is Zoey’s friend from America.”

Zoey glanced over her shoulder as Khalid greeted Eli warmly. She smiled, grateful for at least one welcoming response. Hopefully, Nwando was waiting for them inside. She dug on her heels, waiting for Eli who trailed behind Khalid toward the trunk of the SUV.

Aunty Sophie clucked her tongue. “Eli, leave the bags. They’ll get it.” She then pulled Zoey forward. “You two better leave that independent we-can-do-everything-for-ourselves stuff out here. Don’t give your mom’s sisters reasons to talk. Especially Aunty Nneoma.”

Aunty Nneoma was Paula’s mother and a constant source of annoyance for her mother. The two, since childhood, had always found reasons to fight about any and everything. Even in their mid-fifties, they still argued like enemies and competed about everything possible. No doubt Aunty Nneoma would tease about Zoey taking over the housemaids’ duties.

Zoey tamped a sigh and a groan. Maybe coming home wasn’t one of her great ideas.

“Zoey, you and Eli go inside first. Just remembered something.” She nudged Eli forward and hurried back to Cyrus’ side. “Hey, Khalid, one sec!”

Reaching for and clutching Eli’s hand, Zoey led the way to the front door of a house she didn’t recognize–a house most likely rebuilt to fulfill her mother’s obsession of one-upping her younger sister.

Laughter and music could be heard on the other side of the door. Zoey drew in a breath and released it slowly.

Eli squeezed her hand and in that brief moment, Zoey knew she had her answer. Eli was with her, no matter what stood on the other side of the door. Even with his warranted reluctance, he was here and would be here even till the end of the trip.

She looked up at him with a smile, grateful he was here.

The door flung open. “Finally!” A beaming Nwando, dressed in colorful native, stood on the other side. “Get in here!”

Zoey and Eli were ushered inside, and Nwando shut the door. “Aunty, Uncle!” she bellowed over the party noise. She then grabbed Zoey’s hand from Eli’s, breaking the hold. “Zoey’s home!”

Zoey felt herself being dragged away from Eli and towards the living room where her family awaited her arrival. She glanced over her shoulder to where Eli stood by the door. “Nwa–”

“I got him,” Nwando interjected, nudging her forward. “Your folks are here to see you first and foremost. Right now’s not the time to introduce your American boyfriend. Stealing Aunty Nneoma’s spotlight is not advisable.”

Zoey sighed. She didn’t want to delay the meeting between Eli and her parents, but knew that this wasn’t quite the time for family introductions. Her gaze swept over Nwando’s face. “What would I do without you?”

“Very little,” Nwando winked. “Don’t worry, he’ll mingle with the other hundred guests in the room. Paula’s uni friends are here too. There’s one oyinbo girl your brother’s been eying since morning. Go hug your mom, she’s not been happy about any of this. I’ll go get Lover boy.” She laughed and turned away to retrieve Eli.

Zoey watched Nwando go, wishing she could go with her.

“Is that my Zobo baby?”

Zoey plastered a smile on her face and turned to greet the woman dressed extravagantly. “Aunty Nneoma. Congratulations–!” She grunted as her mother’s younger sister enveloped her into a bear hug.

“Nawa o,” her aunty sing-songed, drawing back to inspect her niece from head to toe. Her painted brows furrowed. “What’s going on, are you losing weight?”

Zoey refrained from rolling her eyes. Her clothes from before she left Nigeria still fit perfectly. “No Aunty. I still look the same.”

“Look at you, all skin and bones.” Aunty Nneoma clucked her tongue in disapproval, hands squeezing Zoey’s arms. “Enh-heh, I would’ve thought America would fatten you up small. Welcome home, my darling!” Draping an arm around Zoey’s shoulders, she led her around the partition wall to the living room.

“Thank you, Aunty—!” Zoey drew in a breath as she took in the scene before her. There were people everywhere, everyone dressed in their best native attire. The living room stretched almost six feet south, with extravagant furnishings and even two sparkling golden chandeliers on the ceiling. She wanted to ask Aunty Nneoma if this wasn’t her home instead, but didn’t have a chance to.

“Zoey’s home!” Aunty Nneoma announced above the lounge music playing, and all eyes faced the front. They all cheered at once, some she knew well—cousins and even old classmates she hadn’t seen since primary school—rushing forward to greet her. It seemed her parents had invited everyone they’d ever known to her cousin’s wedding festivities. And all she could think about, in the midst of all the cheering and overly-enthusiastic greetings, was Eli being overwhelmed by it all.

Around the corner, Eli and Nwando stood witnessing the extravagance of Zoey’s welcome and the grand display of wealth in one scene.

Nwando then placed a hand on Eli’s shoulder, drawing his attention to her. She smiled a gentle smile that held some sympathy. “Welcome to Nigeria, our boyfriend.”

Eli would’ve laughed if not the butterflies waging war in his stomach.

<<Chapter 7 || Chapter 9>>

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Lighthouse, Chapter 3

Posted on 15/04/2016

Pulling up the curved driveway, J.R. spied up at the darkened windows of the family house and breathed a sigh of relief. Grabbing his suit jacket from behind the chair, J.R. stepped out of the car and used the manual lock instead of the automatic which would make a distinct sound. Even if his father was fast asleep in the master bedroom, J.R. was taking no chances.

Slipping into the house, he turned off the alarm before it made a sound and without taking a look at his surroundings, he started for the grand staircase.

“Raju?”

J.R. paused in mid-step and spun about, seeking the gravelly voice in the dark. Then he saw the shadowed form in the family room, the one they hardly used until countrymen folk came in from out of town. It was a room solely meant for entertaining guests but not family. He frowned. “Babuji?”

The shadowed form stirred and light flooded the room. A white-haired man with dark weathered skin and deep-set eyes sat in silk pajamas, with his hands perchef on the cushioned arms of the leather chair. “What time is it?”

J.R. tamped a sigh, knowing full well what his father was up to.  He stepped away from the stairs and dragged his feet toward his father. Paying homage by bending at the waist to touch his father’s feet in greeting, J.R. perched on the chair adjacent to his father’s. “Close to midnight. What are you doing awake?”

Lalana Joel Obed, better known as L.J., eyed his son warily before speaking. “Waiting for you.”

Ignoring the niggling sensation at the pit of his stomach, J.R. frowned. “Is… everything okay?” He could count on one hand the times his father had waited up for him; all not good.

L.J. bobbed his head, wisps of snow-white hair gliding his forehead. “Tell me about your work.”

J.R. stifled a groan. Though his father had retired from the thriving law firm and officially named him as his successor, he’d felt more pressured than when his father was in charge. He knew some of the lawyers and his father’s secretary remained on staff mostly to keep an eye on him. He wondered what they’d shared to his father about how he was running the firm.

“I heard you took on yet another pro-bono.”

J.R. fought a wince at the disdain in his father’s voice.

“We are not running a charity, Raju,” L.J. said firmly. “Maybe here or there for our special clients, but not every time pro-bono.”

At the sound of his father’s accent thickening, J.R. knew he’d heard about the recent case. He sighed and met his father’s stern expression. “I couldn’t turn them away, Babu. If you knew what nightmare they were facing, you would–”

“You are not an immigration lawyer. Civil cases only, Raju. That is what I assigned you to do.”

J.R. clenched his jaw and for a charged moment, he and his father stared each other down. They didn’t have J.R.’s mother, Tayla, to stand as mediator whenever they argued. Her twenty-fifth anniversary had barely passed and the two had grown accustomed to resolving their differences on their own, or at least pushing it aside until the next disagreement.

L.J. broke eye contact first and sighed. “A word is enough for the wise.” He started to rise.

J.R. rose too, ready to end the night.

“One more thing.”

He paused and looked down at his father whose body bent slightly from age. “Yes, Babu?”

“You remember my old friend from home, Dabir?”

J.R. merely blinked; his father had too many old friends from home. He couldn’t even begin to place this one among the many he’d met through his childhood.

L.J. grunted. “Anyway, he and his family are moving to Houston next month. I want you to take care of them.”

Alarm bells started to ring in his ears at his father’s words. He frowned. “Take care of them?”

“Yes, especially their daughter, Hana. You probably don’t remember her.”

JR shook his head, unable to form a word. Even from the dim lighting, J.R. noted the glint in his father’s eyes and didn’t like it one bit.

“It’s late, we’ll talk more about it later.” L.J. moved around the table and started for his bedroom. “Goodnight, son.”

“G-goodnight, Babuji…” J.R. waited until his father’s lanky frame disappeared into the shadows before he blew out a shaky breath.

He should’ve known he wouldn’t go scot-free for much longer even without a mother to nag as others’ mothers did. His childhood friends got married and although he experienced the occasional side-eye or weighted suggestion about his singlehood, he’d truly believed his father didn’t worry himself over such trivial matters. His father was much too preoccupied with growing his firm in his absence to care about only son’s marriage or producing the next generation of Obed.

But J.R. was wrong. So very wrong. And in true tradition of arranged marriages with little input from either the groom or bride, J.R. Obed’s marriage planning had just begun.

Disturbed by the looming arrival of a Mr. Dabir and his family, J.R. turned off the lamp and trudged upstairs.

Darah gaped at her boyfriend Jeremy who avoided looking at her. Feeling light-headed, she perched on the arm of the sofa. “What did you just say?”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his head.

“What do you mean you don’t know?! You said something so simply repeat it!”

“Stop yelling at me!” he shouted defensively, retreating to his desk. “I told you this wasn’t permanent.”

She scowled at his back. “What about marriage isn’t permanent?”

He mumbled something under his breath as he pulled up a browser.

Darah shot to her feet and stomped over to his desk, grabbing his shoulder. “You lied to me!”

Jeremy yanked his arm from hers. “Oh come on! I just said I’m not ready for marriage right now.”

“So you gave me a line? Is that it?” Darah bunched her fingers to keep them from trembling. Her whole body was hot with rage.

He pushed away from the desk, walking around her to enter the bedroom they shared. “Start packing, I gotta leave soon.”

“First answer my questions, you coward!” she called after him, scowling when he slammed the bedroom door behind him. She grabbed the first thing she could find, a textbook and flung it at the door.

The door opened and Jeremy bent to pick it up before tossing a glare her way. “For goodness’ sake, Darah. I borrowed this!”

Darah folded her arms. “Answer my question first. Are you kicking me out or is this a breakup?”

Jeremy dusted off the pages. “What part of ‘I broke the lease’ don’t you get, Darah?”

It took everything in her not to throw another book his way. She clenched her jaw. “And where am I supposed to go, Jeremy? You made me mov—“

“Now wait a minute,” he held out a hand. “I didn’t make you do anything. You wanted a place to stay, I offered my place and you moved in.”

Darah scoffed incredulously. “You offered? Not groveled? Like you didn’t benefit from me moving here!”

Jeremy rolled his eyes and focused his attention on the gnarled pages. “The binding is broken and this was my professor’s. You really need to work on your temper.”

“Yeah sure, right after I throw this book at your face.” A perverse satisfaction filled her when he jerked his head up in alarm. She clenched her jaw. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“Would you stay with you if you were me?” His tone was cold, his expression detached.

Darah held the tears at bay. It was better to stay unaffected even if she wanted to cry. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “So in the end, you’re just as bad as the other guy, huh?”

His expression darkened. “That’s not fair. I protected you.”

“No Jeremy, you didn’t.” She felt such shame, knowing she’d compromised herself all because a guy promised to protect her but in the end caused her more pain. “You used me.”

He scowled. “Now wait—“

“Pretending to be a knight-in-shining-armor when you’re really a snake, a low-life.” Darah nodded, bending to pick up her purse. “It sucks that I only had to find out now. But it’s cool. I’ll gladly leave.”

Tears pushed at her eyelids and she willed them away. Darah forced herself to look at Jeremy who glared at her with his handsome features twisted in rage. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. This wasn’t the guy who swooped in to save her from the stalker a semester ago, the guy who comforted her with confident flowery words and blood-stirring kisses. No, this was definitely not the guy who gave her pleasure and promised her forever once they graduated.

As she started for the door, anger made her turn to face him. “You’re scum, Jeremy, and I wish you nothing but a life full of pain and regret.”

Not the most mature thing to say as a third-year master student but Darah had devoted her life to making this relationship work. For him to care very little about tossing her aside made her hot with rage. “In fact, you dying a lonely and bitter crag would be the best you can do for mankind.”

He just stared, accustomed to her sharp tongue and harsh words. “Just make sure you get your stuff out by tomorrow. I need my security deposit back.”

Darah looked him down from head to toe, her lips curled in distaste. “I have no idea how I fell for a nut-job like you.”

“Same here.”

His words were like a punch to her stomach and Darah choked on a laugh. She turned away and yanked the door open. Pausing at the door, her lips twisted in a sardonic smile. “Actually you know what? Just throw it away. I’m done with you.”

She stepped out and slammed the door as hard as she could. Her smile widened at the sound of glass crashing to the floor, most likely that ostentatious picture he hung by the door. Ignoring the stream of expletives from the other side of the door, Darah headed down the sidewalk to her car.

Jeremy Landsing was a green-eyed, devilishly-handsome post-doctorate fellow studying geology when she met him a year ago. She and a couple of friends had just finished off a class project and were celebrating with pints of Haagen-Daas at a café when he and his friends stepped in for coffee. Their eyes met across the divider and he flashed her his signature grin. She’d rolled her eyes and focused on her ice-cream.

Back then, she lived by her ‘I don’t date’ mantra and had no qualms about snubbing men interested in her. Jeremy wasn’t discouraged though and walked up to her table to introduce himself. Of course, Darah brushed him off and went on with her life, ignoring him whenever he sought her out. Until she had no choice but to turn to him after a messy incident involving a scorned date where Jeremy saved her. Then she quickly fell for him soon after and they became inseparable to the point of moving in together.

Smile faded, Darah yanked the car door and ducked inside. She slammed the door and propped her forehead on the steering wheel, tears streaming down her face. Her body shook with the sobs she’d held in when he announced he would be moving away, with no plans for her in mind.

Early in their relationship, he’d teased her mercurial temper but said it with that signature grin and then comforted her with his touch. She’d believed him when he said he loved her and would marry her once he’d finished his research. She was so hungry for romantic affection; to have what her sisters-in-law had with her brothers. She’d wanted it for such a long time and after being rejected by the only other person she ever liked, Jeremy’s pursuit made her feel wanted and loved.

Darah wept long and hard until she couldn’t anymore. Then she straightened in her seat and wiped her eyes. Ignoring the stares she got from students strolling in front of her car, Darah turned on the ignition key of her car and reversed out of the parking lot. This would be the very last time she would cry for a man; the second and absolute last time.

< || Chapter 4>>

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