Monday, 15 July 2013


“I’ll never let you go, oh noooo,” sings Faith Evans, “Every day I thank the Lord for you, I feel so blessed”. I remember vividly that was the song Lolu and I danced to on our wedding day. “I wished upon a star and it came true” I sing as tears start to find their way down my face. How could I possibly hurt the man who made all my dreams come true? If I chose to confess, I would have peace of mind but my marriage would be shattered. We were happy, we WERE happy, WE WERE HAPPY, I think as the thoughts are now stained by a reminder of my sins and lies.

I met Lolu in the most romantic way ever; I was visiting my friend in Florida for the weekend as I was planning a surprise party for her birthday. After the long flight, I was taking a cab at from the airport but was holding up the line because the cab driver was asking me how to get my destination after I had provided him with the address. “How should I know, isn’t that your job?” I snapped, my anger making my phonee slip away and my naija accent manifest.

Lolu was the third person behind me waiting in line amongst the now angry mob of people who just wanted to peacefully grab a cab.

I pick up my phone and dialled Chike, “I don’t know for the man, abeg talk to him and explain to him”.

While the cab driver is busy on the phone with Chike, asking foolish questions, Lolu steps forward, “Hi, let me save you from your stress, I’ve visited Florida several times, enough to know that where you’re going is on my way”, he smiles “Please let me take you there to avoid these people from stoning you to death in their minds” I raise my eyebrow and was about to speak when..

“Oh my name is Lolu by the way but we can exchange pleasantries on the way, so are you down?” The cab driver is still there being a mumu on the phone, I grabbed my phone from him with a face that could melt the ice on Mouth Kilimanjaro and say to Chike “I have found someone to direct the cab man; I will see you soon, ok bye”. I get into the cab and he starts telling him what way to go.

While I am there admiring this 6’4 man with his sexy caramel skin, goatee and bald head, I didn’t know he had asked me for my name twice that I quickly snapped out of my trance and answered “Joju, Oluwajomiloju.”

“Pretty name,” he says but I slip back into my trance. Eventually the conversation picked up and I was very confident that he would ask me for my number before he went on his way, blame it on my over confidence pretty girl swag. We pull up to my supposed friend’s apartment and I call him to come down to make sure that I was not about to be someone’s blood money human parts.

Keep in mind that this is my friend’s boyfriend btw, we just happen to be planning a surprise birthday party for her that evening and I was late that’s why I didn’t head to the hotel straight away. Chike comes down and hugs me, thanks Lolu and they chat for about 20 seconds and he says bye, nice to meet you blah blah blah without asking me for my number. The diva in me is banging her head against an invisible wall and I am thinking to myself what happened here?

The weekend was very awesome, pleasant and all sorts of fun, I hadn’t thought about my sexy mc bald head. It’s Sunday evening and I am back at the same airport heading back to my lovely city of Boston. Guess who I see again, Lolu is seated there with his earphones on and doing something that seemed interesting on his phone. My first reaction was to go and say hi but here comes diva me saying “this guy dissed you oh, what is wrong with you that he didn’t ask for your number”. I forcefully remove the diva from my mind; she can be quite evil sometimes. I walk over and say hi and he is just as surprised.

“Hey what’s up?” I say
“Joju, How far now? Funny I am running into you again.”
“I know right, how was your trip?”
“It was fun, I was here for a wedding, it was very nice I guess, you know guys now we don’t pay too much attention to all those things that make a wedding “beautiful”, he says and does the air quotes.

I laugh and we ended up sitting next to each other since Southwest Airlines does not give you assigned seats. We talk and talk the whole trip back to Boston. I find out he lives in Boston as well, we talk about our jobs, family, secondary school, college, life but somehow the talk of being single or not never came up. I felt like I was threading on a thin thread here, my mind started to make assumptions. Maybe he just got out of a relationship or maybe he’s not just ready or maybe he’s not into relationships, maybe maybe, maybe.

Sigh, the things I do sometimes with this over complicated mind of mine. Sha Sha we arrive at Boston, get our luggage and this man is about to tell me bye bye sha, just like that. So me self with my pride, I gently pull my luggage and start heading towards the cabs since his friend was picking him up. I’m waiting for the cab, listening to my favorite Faith Evans album and someone taps me on the shoulder.

“Are you dating the guy I dropped you off at his house?”

My eyes widen and I actually start to laugh out loud. “No oh, that’s my friend Jite’s boyfriend oh, we were planning her surprise birthday that’s why I went over there”.

I could see the relief in his eyes and he said “Ok, I want to take you out, please give me your number.”

I go “Ehen forreal, that’s why you didn’t ask me since abi, nawa oh but it's 6-1-7-5-8-9-1-2-5-9”

That was the beginning of our love and now 13 years later, married with 3 children, the love has neither fled from our house nor have we lost it. Lolu was a loving husband, loving father, friend, son, brother, uncle to his sister’s kids, everything any woman in her right mind wants but this one mistake from 6 years ago never seems to be far from my mind. Since when I found out I was pregnant with my last child Oluwafitunmise, I have always doubted if the baby was his because of one passionate night in Malaysia. As her name suggest, God did use her to “fix’ me and I have never wandered again but can I really confess to my loving husband that there is a possibility that our child, his favorite baby is not his?

No comments:

Post a Comment