Hidden Currents (Lagos Romance Series) (19 page)

The next day, after his family had left him
to pack up his stuff and come join then at home, I called him to ask how the
packing was going.

“Horrible.” He had replied, sounding
dejected on the phone and begging me to come keep him company.

He sounded so miserable, I readily accepted.

I had been to his rooms a lot of times. He
lived in a self-contained apartment close to the campus. I had done a lot of my
studying there. Whenever he travelled, he would leave me his keys and I would
sleep over there until he returned, watching cable television and trying to
match his prowess on the play station.

When I got there that day though, all his
stuff had been packed into boxes and cartons, apart from the blue rug that
lined the whole apartment, which he was leaving because he had no place for it
at home, the apartment looked stripped and bare. I could see why he was
depressed.

“My house has disappeared.” He said with
mock desperation when he saw me. He looked so comic, I burst out laughing.

“Seriously though.” He said, when the
merriment was over. “Tell me you will stay here and I’ll unpack right now and
return everything to how it used to be. Please.”

He had offered me the apartment before. I
had only refused because my parents had no intention of letting me stay outside
the campus hostel for my first two years of school and I didn’t want any of my
numerous guardians sending bad reports to them.

“Sorry” I said soothingly, “No again.
Anyway, it looks like you’ve finished packing, there’s nothing for me to help
you with.”

“I just stuffed everything into boxes and
cartons.” He said with a slight grimace “I’ll sort through them when I get
home.”

“How are you going?” I asked. I knew all
his stuff would never fit into his car.

“I got a truck to take the stuff home.” He informed
me. “It will be here soon.” He frowned. “I will be leaving later today, after
the truck leaves.”

I nodded. “I’ll miss you so much.” I said
earnestly. I couldn’t help it, I went to him and hugged him tighter than I had
ever hugged him before. He was my closest friend and constant companion, his
leaving was devastating for me.

He seemed surprised at first, we hadn’t
really been the touchy, huggy, kind of friends, but after his initial
hesitation, he hugged me back.

Then he kissed me.

My first kiss, surprisingly.

It was crazy. One minute my arms were
around him in a very platonic friendly hug, the next, I was on fire, and no
matter how he much touched me, it was not enough.

We made love, my first time, in his room, on
his soft blue rug. It was slow and sweet and the best thing that had ever
happened to me. His passion, his eagerness, the expression on his face when he
touched me, when he lost control, made me feel like I was the queen of the
earth and sky.

Afterwards, as he held me and stroked my
hair, my body was singing with pleasure, I couldn’t believe I had waited so
long. I thought of how we had wasted a whole year we could have had together
and I felt so sad I wanted to cry.

It was around then that he got up, leaving
me alone on the floor, I lay there wondering what was wrong because, I could
have lain in his arms until forever ended.

“I’m sorry.” I heard him say.

“What!”

He had already started getting dressed.
“I’m so sorry.” He repeated, not looking at me.

I couldn’t process what he was saying,
sorry about what? I started to feel naked. I found my blouse and held it
against my chest. As a covering for my nakedness and also I think, as
protection from whatever it was he was going to say.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated “I really hate the
fact that I have done this to you.”

Done what? Didn’t he know that everything
he had done to me had made me feel beautiful beyond words? But then, he looked
so guilty that I began to wonder, what was he saying, was he sorry because he
had taken advantage of me? That could only mean that he had no intention of our
little incident becoming more than that, an incident.

I kept on looking at his face, trying to
read what I saw there, of course he felt bad, I thought. This was ‘Jambite rush’,
a year too late perhaps but still the same thing. And he was feeling guilty
because it was me, me who was innocent, me who had never been anything but nice
to him.

Suddenly, I was angry, I got up and started
to dress as fast as I could. “Look.” I said, doing my best to sound confident,
as though I didn’t care, even though inside, I was shaking with disappointment,
hurt and anger. “Let’s just forget this happened okay, obviously we both made a
mistake.”

“I didn’t, Sophie.” He said, looking
earnest and dejected at the same time. “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long
time.”

“Really?” I raged. “Exactly how long have
you been planning my seduction, and is it coincidence or just some kind of
poetic injustice that it took place on your last day?”

“I didn’t plan anything.” He denied.
“Sophie, I know how you feel, and I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.

How could he know how I felt, when I
couldn’t even understand it myself? I stopped listening; I was trying too hard
not to cry. I was done putting my clothes back on. Without a word I picked up
my bag and left. I started to cry as soon as I had closed the door behind me.

Hello Again!

We never spoke again after that day, not
for lack of trying on his part. He did call, over and over again. But I
couldn’t bring myself to speak to him. I was still trying to understand what
had happened and still too confused and angry to talk to him. I changed my
number after a while. Then I heard from Eddie that he had travelled to the
states for a master’s degree.

Over the years Eddie kept me updated, he
told me that Michael was working somewhere in the states, and then later that
he was thinking of coming back to Lagos. I always listened. Sometimes I would
imagine what life was like for him. I missed him and I wondered if he thought
of me at all.

Life went on though, I graduated, served,
started Living Lagos and gave up on ever loving any other man the way I still
loved Michael.

I had confided my feelings to Ada on one of
the ‘Girl’s night in’ days at my apartment. Drunk on red wine, maudlin on
romance movies and incensed by a picture of him I had seen on a friends
Facebook page. I told her everything while she listened patiently.

“I think you overreacted.” She had said at
last. “I’m not really sure about the ‘jambite rush’ thing and I don’t
understand all your ‘vexing’ and not picking his calls. Why didn’t you at least
talk to him?”

I had asked myself the same question over
and over for years, so I couldn’t bring myself to argue with her. We went back
to oohing and aahing over his picture and how handsome he looked. Before the
day was over Ada made me promise that if I ever had a chance I would see him,
talk to him and see how it went from there.

“You never know.” She said. “You might just
take one look at him and wonder what you ever saw in him.”

Very unlikely, I thought.

Now here I was in my tiny bedroom, with no
idea what to wear. I was in a panic. I didn’t want to be too dressy, and make
him think I was trying too hard. But I didn’t want to dress down either. Half
of my wardrobe was on the bed and I still hadn’t decided. I almost decided to
give up and stay home.

My phone rang. It was Ada, of course.

“Have you left home yet?” She asked.

“No!” I replied dejectedly, collapsing unto
the pile of clothes on the bed “I’m not going. I have nothing to wear!”

“Of course you do.” She cajoled. “You have
lots of lovely clothes.”

“Well they’re all hiding somewhere.” I said
petulantly. “Because I haven’t seen any of them.”

“You’re just panicking.” Ada said. “You’re
afraid to go and see the man you know is the love of your life.” She continued.
“Just relax.” She coaxed. “You’re beautiful, in fact you’re stunning, forget
about him for a moment and just dress up for a fabulous night out.”

Easy for her to say, I thought.

At last I decided to wear a simple black
dress, a pair nude colored shoes and a matching clutch. I wore simple gold
accessories and pinned my hair up. My makeup was light, a little eye shadow,
mascara and lipstick, and I was done.

The girl who stared back at me in the
mirror was classy and elegant, with long black hair, and smooth fair skin. My
almond shaped eyes, already large, were well framed by my long lashes and
elegantly arched brows. My small nose was perfectly underlined by my full
cupid’s bow lips. Combined with my slim figure and long legs, I knew I looked
good, and I was glad.

It was a short drive to the MUSON center.
When I arrived, the event had just started. I saw Ada, looking odd as usual in
jeans and a T-shirt, taking pictures of people at the entrance. She saw me and
gave me two thumbs up. I smiled, relaxing a bit.

As soon as I entered the full hall, my eyes
started to scan the place for Michael. I didn’t see him. As I futilely searched
the faces of the people across the numerous round table arranged in the big
hall, I tried to ignore the pang of disappointment in my stomach. I gave up and
went to search for my seat.

There was funny couple on my table, a
husband and wife in their sixties, who adopted me as soon as I sat down and
before long, had me laughing at their stories on how they met.

“He walked up to me and said he was going
to marry me!” The lady told me, her light voice just able to reach me over the music
the live band was playing.  “And I told him to get in the back of the
queue.”

“I told her I was starting a new queue.”
Her husband said with a self-satisfied chuckle.

“Then I asked him what he had that my other
beaus didn’t.” The lady said still smiling, “and do you know what he said?” She
asked me.

I shook my head.

“He said marry me and you’ll find out!”

“She couldn’t resist that!” Her husband
laughed. “She just had to know.”

It continued like that all evening and even
helped to ease my tension a little. But I still couldn’t forget why I was
there. Michael Ade-Cole was like a weight, an anchor, holding my mind in one
place so that no matter what I did, I couldn’t turn it away from him.

I had psyched myself to be cool when I
finally saw him. But when I did see him, all that preparation went out of the
window. Somehow as soon as he came into the hall, I knew. My eyes went to the
entrance and there he was, still beautiful, like some sort of god. He looked
taller than I remembered, dressed in a semi-casual traditional attire of a
white brocade caftan and trousers. I watched him stride into the hall,
following an usher to a table at the front. As he passed by my table I thought
I saw him pause and almost turn around, but then he kept on walking, and joined
his sister at their table in the front.

“Are you all right?” It was the old lady.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine” I reassured her, smiling
quickly.

She pursed her lips. “Why are you here
alone anyway?” She asked as if I had personally affronted her. “A beautiful
girl like you should be here with one of her beaus. I always had someone to
escort me when I was your age.”

“Times have changed.” Her husband quipped.
“These days’ girls impress each other with their careers, not with the men on
their arm.”

At one point Ada came up to me. “Babes, I
saw him and he is hot!!!” She whispered in my ear. “How did you ever let that
one get away?”

I shook her away and then stole a glance at
him. He seemed to be enjoying himself, talking and laughing with the people at
his table. Yes, he was handsome, more handsome than I remembered. I sighed. It
hurt to even look at him.

The event drew towards the end. The last of
the comedians and dancing troupes had concluded their acts and Michael’s sister
gave her vote of thanks. Everyone was up and socializing. I got up. There was
only one way to do this. If I was going to find out if my feelings for Michael
would ever result in anything after all this time, then I was going to have to
go to him.

He was standing towards the front of the
room, talking with a slender woman who, as far as I could see was being very
receptive to whatever it was he was saying. Of course I had known that he might
bring a date, but the sight was much more unamusing than the thought. I didn’t
pause though, I walked towards him, my steps purposeful, inside I was a knot of
nerves, but outside, I am sure I looked like the most confident girl in the
room.

I was halfway to him before he raised his
eyes.

And looked right into mine.

I paused, the sledgehammer effect of his
gaze throwing my purposefulness out of the window.

He stopped talking and frowned. I smiled
hesitantly.

Then he broke into a huge smile and hurried
toward me.