Love's Second Chance (3 page)

To stop the pain, Kevwe tried to think of his business, of things that were more crucial to him. Not a previous relationship that hit the rocks due to a young girl’s impatience and high expectations.

“
That is surely not what you still think?” Ofure asked.

Kevwe cursed. “Don’t read my mind! I didn’t give permission…”

Ofure interrupted him, “You read mine often enough and I never complain, so shut up, OK? And also you left yourself open, and that made it easier. What does that tell you? You’re more vulnerable now than you’ve been for a long while.”

You’re not as over her as you had hoped
. Kevwe didn’t know if that was him or Ofure. He shook his head to dislodge the unwelcome thoughts.

“
You’re sure you don’t want to see her?”

“
No, I don’t. Let her remain there in Abuja, I’ll be here.” Kevwe was firm. If she wanted to find him, she knew where to look. Ofure being in the capital made it even easier. She could find out from his twin where he was.

“
You think she’ll come looking for you, but what if she’s married?”

“
Ofure, stop it; I’m serious. Get out of my head!”

“
Chill man, you know I can’t help it unless you shut it.” Ofure sighed, “Truth is, I’m trying, but you’re the one pushing these thoughts into my mind. Maybe we’ll talk later when you’re more composed. What do you say?”

Kevwe was torn. A part of him wanted to confess everything to his twin, but the other part wanted to lick his wounds in private. Sometimes being a twin could be hard, especially when you could share everything if you wanted.

“
I’ll call you,” he finally replied, pressing the ‘end call’ button. He wouldn’t run back to Efe, he wouldn’t. He searched for a number; talking with his grieving mother would certainly help.

**

3

Abuja, November 20, 2009. 9am

She hated walking this road so late, but she couldn’t avoid it after reading at the library. Empty tables lined the roadside, and behind one of them, a stone-bound ring of embers, dying remnants of the suya mallam’s fire. Kerosene lamps and candles flickered in the darkness, filling the air with smoke.

Efe coughed, praying she would not meet secret cult members who were reputed to use this route on their way from their haunts. Someone appeared ahead and she slowed, mouth drawn tight, and fists clutching her chest. A little yelp escaped her when the person turned to face her.

She heaved a sigh of relief at the flashing white teeth and walked towards him with a smile of recognition.

“
Kevwe…”

She stopped in a moment, clenched hands wiping her eyes when, instead of moving closer to him, he drifted further and further away. Sounds of revelry disturbed the silence of the night and Efe walked faster, heart pounding and sweat dripping from her nose.

More shadows melted out of the side of the road, coming towards her. The figures chanted gutturally, and when they raised their hands, something metal glinted in the light from the fire. Menace filled the air thicker than smoke and Efe ran forward, screaming Kevwe’s name.

He couldn’t leave her here, he was supposed to love and protect her forever…

“
Kevwe no…” Efe groaned, as her head tossed from side to side. “Don’t leave me...”

The alarm on the bedside table buzzed, and she jerked awake. It took another moment to lift eyelids swollen from tears. She was under the blankets, but the cold tremors from the nightmare still racked her. Efe dragged herself
out of bed, feeling like her head was stuffed with hot rocks, but knowing it wasn’t a hangover.
This was the third time in as many days she’d had a Kevwe nightmare.

They’d never quite left her, but she was now worried over how often they recurred. Had she made a mistake in returning to Nigeria? Was this a message from her subconscious? It took a lot of time and effort to push Kevwe and that part of her life to the recesses of her mind, and she didn’t want to go back. Her thoughts
spun round and round, tying knots in her stomach as she dragged herself into the bathroom for a shower.

Efe recalled she had also sunk into despair
after Kevwe, her former fiancé, broke up with her.
In the weeks before their breakup seven years ago, she’d begged to stay in Nigeria. Because of him, she’d resisted travelling with her brand new American visa as her parents wanted. After his rejection, she wanted to leave immediately, but her body failed her.

R
educed to a shadow
of herself by
headaches,
tears,
and nightmares,
she had been unable to travel. It was a beginning of a traumatic time, not just for her but the entire family; they were forced to move house ahead of schedule to help her prepare to leave the
country. But she
still arrived a month late and missed the opening date
of her new college.

Efe returned to the bedroom after several minutes under the refreshing shower jets. Her mood had soured even further as she remembered the year spent stacking shelves in FreshCo and waiting for summer school to start. To cheer up,
she slotted in her iPod into its dock and selected Asa, a recent Nigerian female favorite, before
sliding open the closet and rifling through it. Her clothes brought fresh memories
of how she was nicknamed the Black Widow in school. Back then, she only wore
black and sober outfits. At least now she could recall those dark days and not cringe anymore.

She walked to the kitchen and fixed herself some instant coffee. The headache would settle in a few minutes. She cradled her head with care while waiting for the coffee to cool, then gulped it down and shuffled back to the bedroom. After dressing, she left for work in her Honda Accord, a discreet song playing
on the radio.

The sun was high up in the sky, and the dashboard showed it was thirty eight degrees. Efe pulled the black-framed sunglasses on her hair down over her eyes and put on the air conditioner. Dressed in another dark outfit from her collection, she already felt the heat, and decided to take the longer, shadier way.

Her employers, Hilton International Corporation, subsidized her cost of living, or Abuja would’ve taken a toll on her purse, and made it impossible to live there. The city was certainly not cheap, and she often paid international prices for basic items. In fact, she found that she spent more money now than she did in West Palm Beach.

She recalled discussing Abuja with Kevwe in the past as she drove past Gana Street to IBB Way, the wide boulevards separated by greenery sweeping past as she cruised all the way to the British Council before turning into Aguiyi Ironsi Street. He’d hoped to visit again with her, and now she wondered if he lived here; his brother obviously did.

In her air-conditioned office, she started on the most complex task she had waiting for her, hoping the work would take her mind off her man problems. The hotel had just completed a recruitment drive, and she had to make sure the records for hundreds of new employees were compliant with the documentation required by the city council of Abuja.
Her assistant
was to have prepared
it, but for the third day in a row, he
was nowhere to be found
.

Then there were
the
quarterly
catering orders, t
hey had to send those off to their beverage contractors for their supplies to be delivered by month-end.
Ofure’s visit had disturbed her yesterday, or the orders would’ve been done
.
With intense attention, t
he day passed without thoughts of Kevwe, Ofure or Stanley and she made progress into her work.
If her flow continued like this, she looked forward to finishing the job before the deadline tomorrow.

When she sat back and checked the time, it was before six. Stretching in satisfaction,
Efe spun her chair to face the window. Her fifth floor office overlooked Shehu Shagari Way, affording her an excellent view of the well cut lawns and flower patterns in Millennium Park. A
broad stream ran through its centre, and the remainder of the native woodland clung to the edges. The ornamental fountain was too far away, but she gazed along the jogging track as far as she could, and allowed her thoughts to wander.

**

Abuja. November 20, 2009. 7pm.

The ringing cell phone dragged Efe into the present.

“
Hello,” she croaked, picking the call.

After her thoughts had strayed from work earlier,
she’d packed up her things and come home. She was now
in bed, not having bothered about dinner.

“
Efe!” Nneka’s shout rang in her ears and Efe winced.

“
The day we’ve all been waiting for has arrived,” Nneka said. “Your
godchild has just cut her elusive first tooth. Can you come as planned? The other godparents are here already, and
Anuli wants
you.”

“
Anuli, the baby?” Efe asked, a smile blooming.

“
Of course,” Nneka insisted. “We’re waiting.”

Nneka was bossier now than ten years ago
, especially since her marriage to Dozie. Dozie had
wanted to marry Nneka while he was abroad, even though he’d never set eyes on her then. Nneka had rejected the match-making until Dozie returned to Nigeria
some years later, still interested in her.

After two years of leading him on a
merry chase, she finally agreed to his proposal, to everyone’s surprise. Their first child had arrived
in May,
a
month after Efe moved back and Nneka named her Anuli, saying her joy
was complete with her most beloved friend around her again.

Efe got up from the bed and dressed in a narrow
Adire
boubou she’d bought at the hotel the month she resumed. She was Anuli’s godmother, after all. She picked the gift she’d already bought for the occasion, put off all the
lights and picked up her car keys.

In West Palm Beach, she’d taken good roads for granted as well as travel times. Since her return, she’d had to adjust. Though Abuja had wide, well-maintained three-lane roads, sometimes this wasn’t enough to guarantee smooth or dependable trips.

At the Asokoro Junction, the traffic lights were out, thanks to the unreliable power supply. Efe moved her car into an open slot and cursed when a commercial green and white minibus cut before her. Hawkers made brisk business weaving in and out between the stationary cars. As motorists jostled for right-of-way with their tooting horns, she sent a text message to Nneka.

The flash of a headlamp cut into the deepening twilight, and she debated what to tell Nneka about what happened yesterday.A knock on her wound-up window brought her back to a display of newspapers, wristwatches, snacks, and paintings. Efe shook her head at the peddler and sighed in relief when traffic police took over and cars began moving, enabling her to
made it to Nneka’s place in just over thirty minutes.

The other godparents were still there when she arrived and Dozie, the proud dad, was busy
taking pictures.
He was dark-skinned and a little shorter than Nneka. Typical of the Nigerian man who’d spent some time in the United States, he wore what Efe called their uniform.

He was dressed in a long sleeved, collared, button down dress shirt with some embroidery on the back. Designer jeans and a pair of pointy-toe shoes completed the look. He worked for a reputable oil company on Minister’s Hill while Nneka stayed home with the baby.

Efe looked around for mother and baby, smiling when they came through the kitchen door. Anuli was big for her age and wore a cute navy blue romper. Nneka had tied her hair in pink ribbons, and
the baby beamed and laughed at everything. When Efe came to carry her, the baby cooed and spread her chubby arms wide in welcome.

“
Did you believe me when I said she recognized you?”
Nneka asked, handing
over the baby. “You’re her favorite auntie
.”
The pregnancy weight she was yet to lose suited her tall frame. Efe admired the easy smile on Nneka’s face. Like Efe, she was also dressed in a
boubou.
Hers was wide and in a bright orange and green Ankara print.

Efe patted Anuli’s back in gentle strokes. She snuggled her face into the baby’s warm neck and inhaled the scent of milk and powder while Anuli gurgled. “Are you sure she sees well yet?”

“
What!” Nneka cried in
mock
outrage. “Give me my baby…”

Efe burst out laughing, blinking in the flash of Dozie taking a picture of her and the baby. Nneka and Anuli
were the only ones who made her truly happy.

When they were alone, she said to Nneka, “Remind me of something I have to tell you.”

“
What is it?” Nneka asked.