SOLOMON'S BRIDGE {Part II/WORK IN PROGRESS}

SHE'S YOU *21*

PRESENT DAY
EDIMA

I thought the first time I ever saw you, was when you were her, that one tenant of mine, who might possibly need a brain scan. She stood on the steps that night, holding a dirty spade, a pair of white canvas sporting blood stains, looking vacant; totally lost, a confusion that confused me. Who goes digging at night, in Canaan city? Three months ago. Don't, blame me. I'm so busy walking the streets and searching faces of women I meet, looking for the keeper of the ways. I Pray, I fast, all to ask The Most High to show her to me, this Custodian; am I then distracted because I'm also operating a mini mart store, and renovating my deceased parents' estate to build a city center mega games complex, and teaching bible topics on Wednesdays? I'm busy doing... Things. She came with her mother two years ago, its Ette Moses who handled the interview, who spoke to her, who stood on my behalf as my personal assistant, officiating signing of tenancy agreements, like he does for all my tenants... Yes. My tenants still don't know that I'm their landlady, so I've got a big opportunity to be a first class snoop and delve into their private lives like most women do... but God's Word is in me, and He won't let my flesh rule my days. Once in a while I catch a glimpse of her, usually due to the noise of her driving under the influence of liquor and bashing her car into the street light's pole in our large parking lot. When she came for my first HRBC lecture, hiding under a black hoodie with a face that had scratch marks riddled all over it, I didn't see clearly. But today it takes me by surprise when she walks into my apartment with Bobby, and I see you.

I see you, she is you, all this time, after so many years, I see you, I know you; I met you for the very first time at midnight, that rainy night, in Saint Peters Orphanage. We hid under the table in Sister Uduak's office, Nonny and I, only to find you there, eating confiscated chocolates...

I pour the tea. My hands are trembling a bit, because I'm still shell shocked. Your face is different, but your candy brown eyes are still the very largest things in it. The tea is
creamy and boiling hot; just the way you say you want it. Reclaiming my seat on my cushioned wrought iron chair, I cross my legs, my big coffee mug is on a tray on my lap. I watch you and Bobby argue like siblings. It's about the hit and run outside my store last week. You say you hate how Stacey Umoren was killed; but I can see the mischief in your eyes, hiding behind a fake sympathy. The darkness always mocks; it was with the mocking birds flying all over my roof top, that night that Jessica blew her cover, flashing her badge around, waving people back, while her colleague lay dying in a bunch of broken bones and puddles of warm blood, run down right in front of my shop. The tabloids feasted on that. What was it, Trombone said on his radio station?

Some shops should never be patronized untill and unless, after intense prayer with dry fasting. That man...

And since you truly have no reason to laugh at me, I can only assume that it is, in fact, an entity. Personalities don't do layers. I'm not even sure, where such a fallacy was concocted, to condition the minds of ignorant mankind! A thing like character is, by its very nature, distinctly definitive, rooted deep in the DNA. It can't be cloned! But where it is alternating, is the part the darkness lurks... Hovers. Prowls. Overcomes. Bobby is staking out my little apartment. I can imagine what is going on in his mind. He's heard a lot of sordid drivel about me, no doubt. His spectacled gaze slithers back to my face, meeting my bold scrutiny and wavers. Beside him, you continue in your husky voice,

"I don't think the police will ever catch the guy! I heard--" You exhale, "--I heard that the funeral was very well attended, um, did you go for the wake keeping in eastern Akwa-ibom?"

I said no; not being a close friend or work associate, I didn't want my presence upsetting the family of the bereaved. Solomon's bridge baby would've caused quite a stir there.