Weapons Formed Against Me 2

                               𝐓𝐰𝐨

       𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰-𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰-𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬

The next time someone would suggest that I become a chief bridesmaid for anyone ehn, 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑎 𝑐𝒉𝑖, the beating I would give that person...I would flatten that person to the ground and sit on his or her chest as my grandmother did to her 𝑛𝑤𝑢𝑛𝑦𝑒𝑑𝑖 last Christmas. Death would be too good for that person.

Tell me why I just lost my newly acquired iPhone 13 Pro Max to a man I thought was one of the groom’s men but later realized he wasn’t. The dude happened to wear the same blue senator suit as the other guys, got himself busy lifting things and running errands like every other groom’s man while his eyes and mind ran to and fro like the biblical devil who presented himself in a meeting meant for just the sons of God, a meeting he wasn’t invited. 

The craziest thing was I couldn’t figure out if it was while I was running around like a headless chicken, trying to please the annoying bride who suddenly turned to Cruella de Vil of 101 Dalmatians immediately we stepped out of the hotel room where she was dressed up. Or while I was busy looking at the Bestman while realizing for the umpteenth time why God said; “It’s not good to be alone,” understanding why he created a second person, and praying that I didn’t fall tikiti-tapata rolling on the floor for that fine dude’s charm.

Thinking about it an hour later, after I cried my eyes out because of my lost phone, I should have allowed myself to fall because I got sprained trying not to. That would have counted for something I achieved attending this miserable wedding. Wiping my face to enter my car, I sniffled. I wasn’t going to let another teardrop again. Not like this—drenched from hair to toe by the vengeful rain that decided to let loose its fury immediately after the bridal march was announced.

The uncaring downpour didn’t consider that I was already in a foul mood and didn’t need an additional shege as a toppling. Now, standing on the road with my hair messed up, my make-up, now a cacophony of colors running down my face, my sandals hanging on my fingers while my other hand held my dress up, I looked like a ditched understanding girlfriend. 

And why was Bro Oghene covering the event? Aside from being a mechanic, was he a professional cameraman too? 

He was the head of our church’s communication department, yeah, I got that but...but...he did video coverage too?

Again, remind me why the first thing he said to me, with a camera balanced on his shoulder, was to wipe something off my face. I did, thinking he was only trying to capture my face on his camera, and he wanted it flawless.

“E never commot,” he said, adjusting the camera on his shoulder.

I wiped again.

And this man said, “Na your beauty nau, you no fit wipe am commot.” And left before I could gather my thoughts to give him a reply. 

Like...what? What sought of complement was that? He had sounded like an agbero in a motor park trying to woo a woman. 

I didn’t know whether to laugh or get angry cos although his crudeness irked me sometimes, he could be funny and nice and...and sweet...every old woman’s crush but definitely not relationship material. Not for me at least.

“You’re leaving already?”

Eh-eh-eh... was that...

“I heard what happened.”

It’s him! The hot as a hair dryer Bestman. I turned. I was going to smile then I remembered I was looking like someone who just escaped from Yabaleft and my face fell. Yeah right. Devil well done o. When I was finally about to meet a prince charming, someone who might give me something to take my mind off this miserable wedding, you chose to turn me into a clown. Sending rain to wash away my perfectly made-up face and ruin my dress.

“I-I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

Losing my phone or the rain turning my face into a puddle of mess? 

“My name is Depreye,” he said, extending his hand for a handshake.

The way he spoke, his accent, hey, 𝑎𝑛𝑤𝑢𝑔𝑜 𝑚! This was what I wanted nau, the kind of man befitting of a girl like me. And to top it all, he oozed off money...

“Hello?”

Oh, oh...

Grabbing his hand, I summoned all the charming smiles I could muster. “My name is Ifenkili.”

“You are Igbo?”

Was that going to be a problem? I could tell him I was a heavenly citizen sent down to earth as an ambassador if that would get him relaxed.

“Anambra I guess?”

Tongue-tied, I nodded. 

“Wow,” he said, sizing me up. “There’s something about beautiful Igbo girls.”

See ehn I could smell out flattery from a hundred miles away. And this one was it. However, I allowed myself to bask in it.

“So, about your phone—”

“Oh, it’s gone nau,” I said, lowering my gaze. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“But there is something I can do.”

“Really?” Was he going to suggest that I should give him time to track it, or technically damage it so the thief wouldn’t be able to make use of it?

“Let me get you another one.”

What? “Eh?”

A beautiful smile spread across his lips on seeing my shock.

“No.” I shook my head. “No, please, no—”

“I’d love to,” he interrupted. Reaching out to take my shoes.

Eh? A man took my shoes? A sexy-looking hunk? Now that was a queenly treatment ha-haaaa!

“Seriously, Depreye. I can get myself another phone. I can afford it.”

“Who said you can’t? But allow me to treat you like a lady. I want to get you a new phone. Then we can have lunch or dinner sometime...anytime you want.” 

His voice...so deep, sending sweet chills all over my body like the ripples upon a body of water, making it difficult for me to think.

“Your car or mine?” he asked. And before I could reply, he added, “I drive a Mercedes Benz C-Class.”

I read the pride in his voice, but it didn’t matter. Which man would look half the way this man looked, smell like crispy dollar notes, and wouldn’t be arrogant?

“Mine,” I said. Although I’d love to ride in a Benz—I’d never ridden in one before, I wasn’t going to start acting senseless now because of what—a car, and a handsome hunk.

I was about to settle in the driver’s seat when I felt his hand on my shoulder. 

“Let me drive.”

W-what? I’d never given my car to anyone to drive before, anyone except my mother and Jekwu my twin brother. Maybe it was me being careful with my things or having trust issues when it came to allowing people to use my things, but I hated sharing my stuff with others, and that included my car. I turned to politely tell him no, but that smile, that disarming smile on his face.

“Okay,” I said, handing my keys to him while taking my shoes from him.

I caught a glimpse of Bro Oghene standing a distance away, hands folded a crossed his chest, watching us—me. He was looking at me. 

Was that a frown on his face?

Well... none of my business.

**** 

𝐎𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞

      

That moment you looked at a guy and realized that he was another dead end. Just one date and she would be back to God like, “Hello, hello, God. It’s me again.”

I waited for them to drive away before I turned and walked back into the reception hall. The wedding was over now, the couple was exchanging pleasantries with the remaining guests, the caterer seemed to be in a foul mood, and the bride’s mother wasn’t having it that there was no food remaining for her to take home. In fact, the whole bride’s family dey rek for the caterer who on her own 𝑔𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑦 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑚 𝑔𝑏𝑎𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑔𝑏𝑜𝑠. 

It was going to be a long argument that might escalate into a fight the way the whole thing was going, and I’d love to watch. But no matter how funny it was, 𝐼’𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑡𝑦𝑛 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑎𝑤𝑎 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑘𝑎𝑠𝑎𝑙𝑎 𝑔𝑜 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑡. 

I placed the camera in my bag and looked around for Aloy, my assistant. The twenty-four years old fresh graduate with his Okpolo eye was a few feet away chyking one fine geh. I walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. “Oniovo come pack up make we kawa.”

The boy frowned. “But bro Oghene—”

“I cannot stay a few more minutes here, my friend.” The girl, he didn’t want to leave her yet, I get. No wahala. “Oya give me my films and everything in your possession. Meet me up in church so we can start editing. I need to be home before 8 p.m., for my online classes,” I said and his lips stretched in a smile.

“Brother Oghene! Thank you so much, sir. I’ll meet you in church, I promise.”

“Hm.” I nodded. Glance at the nervous girl he was razzling. Chai! Young men, 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑝𝑒𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑔𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑝𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝒉𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑚 𝑑𝑜𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑔𝑒𝒉 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑚 𝑔𝑜 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑛. Wasn’t it just yesterday that I gave this guy the whole ten thousand naira I was given for this job?

It was supposed to be a free job. Emenike was my man and he needed help with the video coverage, said his wife insisted he took care of that one. So I promised to do it for him with my church’s camera, but he had to drop something, 𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑛𝑎 𝑖𝑚 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠. He sent 10K which wasn’t enough. The hiring of our camera for an outside job was 30k. However, I wasn’t going to tell Emenike that. I’d decided to pay the money for him as my man way he be.  

Some minutes later I was on a bolt ride heading back to church. And for no reason, my mind went back to her. Ife my Ibo babe. 

Ife fine 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑐𝒉𝑜𝑝 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑐𝒉, ah-ah!

And God, I liked her. From the first day, I set my eyes on her...no, not that day. I first noticed her early last year. She was worth a long stare but that was it. I didn’t feel anything for her until that night I had one crazy dream that had her in it. 

I’d woken up with the thought of her filling my head. Throughout that day, I couldn’t get anything right because she was just there, 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑘𝑝𝑜𝑟 𝑘𝑝𝑜𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑.

And the next Sunday, I was looking for her in church. My heart couldn’t rest throughout the service. I wasn’t sure I heard a single word that was preached that day because, while pushing the camera tripod around the church, my eyes were roaming, searching.

I didn’t know what it was, that sudden eagerness to see her, to have her look at me. And although we hardly exchanged more than a few words which seemed to be enough for me then, I didn’t mind. 

Days moved to weeks, weeks to months, and months to a year plus, yet I’d not forgotten that dream and how I woke up with my heart beating faster and a stupid grin on my face.

I wasn’t looking for a geh to marry or desiring to be in a relationship. Na money bin dey my mind abeg. I just wanted to concentrate on my mechanic work, and make a lot of money so I could finish paying for the half plot of land I wanted for my workshop. I also wanted to finish up with my online schooling. The thing don dey hard small, I couldn’t wait to graduate. But after that dream, it was impossible to look at her in church without feeling sweet tingles wash over me.

Several times I wanted to approach her, several times my heart stopped beating, and words dried up in my head. So the only thing I ever did whenever our gaze locked was smile and smile like an idiot. It was crazy, I was crazy. It was passionate and as I looked out for her during every church program, I felt like nothing in my life could ever be okay until I saw her and smile again like a fool.  

I knew she didn’t like me. Not that much. She hardly kept her eyes on me for more than a few seconds. And when she smiled back at me, it was just out of courtesy.

I knew.

But I liked her still.

I also knew that even though I was trying to establish something—friendship for a start, I got her number from a church member and started chatting with her, I still felt like she didn’t rate me that much.

Maybe I should give it all up.

But oh...I liked her. I told God about it. If only he would make her look at me the same way I looked at her, maybe...just maybe...

The cab driver pulled into the church compound and I stepped down, paid, and walked, with the camera bag inside, into the church. 

I thought of the young man she left with today and wondered where they might be going, what they could be doing.

I saw the way he was looking at her throughout the wedding ceremony 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝒉𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑦 𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑚 𝒉𝑒𝑎𝑑, 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑤𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑚 𝑣𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑛 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝒉 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛. No, I wasn’t jealous, or hating, but I could see beyond his fine suit and perfect English. 

𝑇𝒉𝑎𝑡 𝑔𝑢𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑦 𝑠𝑚𝑜𝑘𝑒 𝑘𝑝𝑎𝑘𝑝𝑎, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑚 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑔 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑂𝑗𝑖. A coded thief and a worthless fellow.

 But sadly, Ife babe didn’t see it. Like she didn’t see that brother Michael in the choir, that one that always took song solos, wain dey like to show imself, the one she eagerly jumped into a relationship with some months ago, was an idiot who only wanted to have his way with her and bolt. 

Yes, I knew so much about her life and relationship choices. I had an interest in her, and somehow, I kept getting messages about her, seeing her with these men in my dreams even before she started going out with them. And in those dreams, it never ended well.

Just like this one.

I saw it last night.

And as soon as I saw the guy today, I knew he was another dead end.