March 27th, 2013
“What was all that about?” I asked Ebika, as we walked towards the car park, after work.
“What exactly?” she responded, with the faintest hint of impatience.
“All that Lanre da Silva name dropping!” I said, knowing fully well she knew what I was talking about. “It was funny when I thought you were joking, but after you almost bit off Ejiro’s head, and I saw you were serious, it became rather worrisome…and maybe a little pathetic!”
She laughed. “And what is so worrisome and ‘pathetic’ about that?! What is so out-of-this world about shopping from a designer…and a local one at that? After all, you wear designer things as well. Yes, you seem to prefer the mid-scale brands like Michael Kors and Coach, but they’re designer all the same. What’s the big deal?”
It was my turn to laugh. Mid-scale brands! It’s not her fault!
“Babe! We used to laugh at people who talk like this oh! Remember Calista, and how we used to yab her?!” Calista had been an Intern, whose father was a senior official at CBN (Central Bank of Nigeria). This girl, who had been no more than 20 years old at the time, would come to work dressed, head to toe, in the most expensive labels, fresh off international runways. Her outfit for the day could very likely have been the value of my entire wardrobe. And she loved talking about fashion…non-stop!!! From morning to night, that was all she ever talked about; who was showing in New York fashion week, whose Winter Collection was to die for. She was a fashion encyclopedia. She was a lovely and respectful girl, but we were so beefed that such a small girl had access to all those baffs, that we would yab her mercilessly…and even to her face.
“Faith, what exactly is your point?! And make it brief. I have to go!” she said impatiently, looking at her watch.
Eeeeehn?! Was this not the same girl who was practically begging for my friendship a few short months ago? The same girl I comforted out of a heartbreak only weeks ago? Now, she was asking me to ‘make it brief’!
“I don’t know what’s going on with you, Ebika. You are changing. If what you say is true, and you have been dating Demola for 15 years, why is his money suddenly making you lose your head?! One would think you would be used to it by now!”
She smiled, but there was no humour in that smile…just bitterness. “Faith. I see you are one of those people who want to see me stuck in the same position for the rest of my life!”
“What??!” I exclaimed in shock.
“But I hate to disappoint you. I chose to keep a low profile all these years, but it’s now my time to shine!” she said, indignantly “It’s my time, Faith!”
As she got into her 2002 Toyota Corolla, and turned the ignition twice to get the car to start, I had to stifle a hiss. It’s her time, abi?! Why not start with replacing her jalopy, before putting her nose in the air. Shior!
I shook my head, as she drove away, in a cloud of smoke. It wasn’t her fault at all. If it had been last year, when she had been nothing more than a gossip buddy, I would have just turned a blind eye to this her newfound juvenile behavior! A 35-year-old woman talking about it being her time! With another woman’s husband! Agbaya!
March 28th, 2013
23 weeks today!!! Whoop whoop!
That was all I needed to throw Ebika’s behavior to the very back of my head. I have so many more important things to think about.
Like the disturbing text I got from my Mom this morning.
Efiowan, I saw 3 babies in my dream! Are you sure you are not having twins? Or maybe that Akunna might be? It was a very clear message that there are 3 babies. I hope you are not hiding anything from me!
I showed the text to Patrick, and we exchanged a disturbing glance. This is the worst time for Mom’s prophesying spirit to get active.
I quickly forwarded the text to Diana, who called me back in minutes.
“Does she know??!! Did you tell her anything???” she cried.
“Babe, the only thing Mom and I have discussed about you is the cake you are bringing on Easter Sunday!” I answered. “If you still want to keep it a secret, I would suggest you take extra care with your outfit on Sunday…because I know my Mom, and she’ll be watching.”
Diana thanked me for the tip off, and got off the phone.
“Why didn’t you just advice her to tell everyone already?!” Patrick demanded. “At least, tell her fiancé!”
I tried to explain how she was worried it would go the same way as all the other pregnancies she had lost, but Patrick just shook his head.
“I don’t see this ending very well,” he muttered. “Does she expect to tell Phillip when she’s halfway gone, and expect him to be happy about it? Happy about missing the first half of the pregnancy…or maybe even more?!”
I know Patrick has a point, but my hands are tied. I have been sworn to secrecy, and I know Diana won’t budge either.
Oh Jesus, take the wheel!