The shady vermin

12

12
Nabila stood there, and said nothing. I could hear her heart faintly, racing. But, she didn't say a word. Just glared. So I thought to myself to break the silence, like Aristotle said, "what will be will be". Well, maybe Aristotle did not. As I moved my lips to talk, Nabila held me by my collar, and pulled me to her, she then kiss me. I was confused as a chameleon. I wasn't sure, if that was supposed to be an apology, or if I should accept it. But, man is a man. So I let the kiss flow. The shadow of her face was so close to mine that I could smell the sweet ropy fragrance of the berry juice she had been drinking, and then her tongue was in my mouth. In all truth I had not invited this prodigy of a tongue; turning, I had merely wished to look at her face, expecting only that the expression of aesthetic delight I might find there would correspond to what I knew was my own. But I did not even catch a glimpse of her face, so instantaneous and urgent was that warm, and soft tongue.

"Saleem?", Nabila called my name, and my daydreaming cut short.

"Uhh, yes...Hi?, I answered.

She bent her neck to the side, looking over my arm to see behind me.

"So, you're really packing?", she asked, in disbelief.

"Well...yeah. Because I really do-", she did not let me finish, next thing I felt was her warm body on mine. She hugged me so tight. Her arms went across my lower back, locked. Her face was buried in my chest. Everything slowed down at that moment. Still unsure of the right words, I hug her—tight. Hanging on, I start counting, because yesterday I read an online article that said for a hug to really be beneficial it needs to last twenty seconds, but long felt those seconds.

(In my mind)
Sixteen...Seventeen...Eighteen...Ninet-

"I'm sorry Saleem", Nabila cried. And she started sobbing, audibly, as much as she sound like she wanted to hold the sob back, she could not.
"I'm...really sorry", she continued. I squeezed my hug in more, hugged her tighter.

"It's okay, Nabee...it really is", I said. I rubbed her lower back with my left hand, while my right was gently placed at the back of her head. She squeezed her hug tighter and sobbed louder.
"I'm scared. I'm terrified. I can't lose anyone else again. I don't want to lose you. I'm sorry, Saleem", she nattered.
"It's okay. It's alright", I repeated as she lamented. Gradually, as the sobbing was reducing, I sat her down on my bed, got her a tissue paper, which I handed to her, then I bent down, so I'd see her well as we talked.

"So, are you still leaving?", she asked inaudibly.

"No, I am not", I replied.

"What about the job? You going?", she asked further.

"I haven't given it proper thought, but I don't think I'm going. I was actually giving it a thought because of that thing your mum said back then", I said after I let out a sigh.

"Yeah, I remember. You know, I don't mind you working there. I just let my negative thoughts get the better of me", she said. Lowering her head, slowly. I held back her head from her chin with my fingers, gently and slowly, until our eyes met (her glowing eyes kill me, all the time).

"I love you, Nabila", the words escaped my lips. And then a pause, with awkward silence. We stared at each other for seconds. Then I got up on my feet, then went to put back my clothes into the wardrobe. As I stood in front of the wardrobe, Nabila hugged me from behind.

"I love you more", she said. She chuckled and hurried out of the room.

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Days later....

I had applied for more jobs, loans and what not, while I carried o with my life. I prayed, constantly. Hopefully God will bring ease to my hardship, reward my patience, perhaps. Everyone thinks I am a bad omen, a sign of things going wrong, an embodiment of misfortune. Nobody wanted me close to their family, business or money, without any form or iota of consideration. I still refuse to die like a chicken. I want my kids, and kids, teens, adults and every child begotten from infidelity, to live a life free a bias, free of nepotism and free to be whoever and whatever they want to be.

So I continued to hustle, and push. That afternoon, I was in the sitting room, checking for opportunities online, with my phone to be precise. Then I heard someone shouting. The person was actually shouting a name. I turned down the television volume, and tried to listen, to make out what was said. Nabila came downstairs and met me. She wore a confused face also, and gestured with her hands to ask what was going on.

"Maybe the neighbors?", I suggested.

"No, I think it's this house o", she said with much certainty.
We went out by the door to check and see. And to our surprise, it was Nabila's uncle, (her favorite uncle I must say). It was Baba Nasiru, shouting Nabila's name like a mad man (that he is).

Wahala no dey finish?

"Nabila! Nabila! I came to talk to you! Just you oo", he clamored. So I moved from behind Nabila to stand in front of her, then folded my arms.
"Ahhh see this bastard o! Not you oo. I came to talk to my daughter, my family!", he continued bleating. Nabila gently tapped my shoulder, and made a pleading face.

"Please, let him come and ramble whatever he has to say and go", she solicited.

So I turned and left into the house. From the noise behind me, I could tell he entered the house also, along with Nabila and sat in the sitting room. I sat in the dining room, because it was the closest place to the sitting room. In case, I had to get there in time for any unforeseen reason. Though I wasn't interested in their conversation, the mad man was bleating out loud, so I could hear the conversation he came with.

"Nabila, you know...I remember, just like yesterday, you were born. I remember clearly how you didn't use to let anyone take you if not your parents and me", he said.

"Please don't bring my parents up, Baba Nasiru", Nabila prompted.

"Okay, okay. But Nabila, look at us now. You let that boy, that son of a whore come between us!", he raised his voice end more.

"Baba Nasiru, please", Nabila said. I wasn't sure what she said after that, because their voices started fading as I slipped into my thoughts. What's with the series of problems? One wahala to another. What does he even want? I asked myself so many questions and drew more thoughts, that dispersed into more thoughts.

"Baba Nasiru, I will not!", Nabila's voice, took me out of my thoughts. I immediately rushed to the sitting room, to see what was happening.

"I will not! Just get out of my house! Now!", Nabila yelled at Baba Nasiru, who was already headed out when I got there. I was confused, I didn't even know what to say or do. What happened here? I asked myself.

Wahala no dey finish?

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