Resurgence

1. Worlds Apart

“Love doesn’t erase the past, but it makes the future different.” – Gary Chapman.

•••

“You’re not getting cold feet now, are you?”

The intuitive baritone voice slammed hard into the wall of his trance like a pebble. The gridlock that seemed to hold the glass surrounding his thoughts shattered, causing the disintegration of the dark morass that engulfed him. For some unknown reason, there was a persistent, screeching noise that kept wailing like a siren―almost as if the pixels of his thoughts were shards of glasses, tumbling to the floor haphazardly.

Tilting his gaze up to meet that of his addressee, he donned a charismatic smile that spoke volumes of his prowess in handling the situation at hand. “Harmattan is coming, Ose. Who wouldn’t have cold feet? And I mean that both literally and figuratively.” He fiddled with his black ball-point pen mindlessly as he spoke.

“Literally as in, we’re in what...the second week of December so of course it is upon us, so I’d be having cold feet whether I like it or not. And figuratively as in, it wouldn’t be senseless to label this new project as the harmattan of all projects. I wouldn’t say it’s something terrifying or evil, but it’d send cold chills down the spine of anyone thinking about it. Even a living volcano. I mean, think about it.”

“And I believe you aren’t a living volcano about to erupt in panic?” Ose smirked, pulling out the chair by his right in a swift motion, and slumping into it in exaggerated comfort, almost as though he had been standing for a lifetime. Osemudiame was a man of many talents, but empathy? Tari wasn’t quite sure his friend-slash-boss was endowed in that area. “Look Tari, this isn’t your style at all. I’ve not seen you this worried since...actually I don’t think I’ve seen you worried at all in the past three years you’ve been working here at Sky. Now you see why this has got me really worried. Want me to chuck up this project to someone else?”

“Chuck up?” Tari scoffed and shook his head. “You can’t be serious.” He sat up on his chair instantly, like an earthworm wriggling in response to the aftershock of a pinch of salt sprinkled on it. “Who d’you wanna give? Fola? Fola would have better luck at constructing a timetable that would enable him to have time for work, than constructing the project at hand.”

“Of course, and taking into consideration his lackadaisical attitude and all. The sole fact that sometimes he wears sandals and slippers to work would mean that someone like him would be used to cold feet, both literally and figuratively. And ding ding!” Ose snapped both fingers in the air. “I wouldn’t have to worry too much about his feet freezing over since he is kind-off used to it.” Ose completed his retort—a mixture of amusement and mischief glowing in his eyes.

“Yeah and while you’re at it, why don’t you tell him to collaborate with Tej also? Tej should probably be devoting his time to opening up an amusement park in the firm’s compound for all the different women that come looking for him in the office everyday. It’s good customer service policy, to keep everyone entertained you know.” Tari shrugged and nonchalantly swayed his chair along an arc of small radius.

“Hey,” Ose called out in a cautioning voice, pointing his left index finger in Tari’s face with his elbow propped on the table. He might have been a bit frightened by the sudden swerve of seriousness his friend’s comport had taken, if his face was a tad boss-esque. At Thirty-five, Ose was still pulling off the looks of a high school sweetheart with glistening faded hair, a well trimmed beard, and a resplendent fair complexion that made him look effortlessly dashing in corporate outfits, just like his current kit up of a three piece blue plaid suit. So yes, it was hard to take him serious.