Thirty - Chapter 3

Thirty - Chapter 3

Read Chapter 2 here and Chapter 4 here

“Saturdays are for sleeping Mr. Williams,” I said as I answered the call.

“Hello to you too Miss Teniola Jones,” Omololu responded with a chuckle. “You do know it’s 12 noon already, don’t tell me I woke you up”

“You didn’t,” I said stretching on the bed. “But I’ve not left this bed today,”

“Nothing surprising there Miss Teniola,”

I rolled my eyes at his comment. For some reason, Omololu believes he knows me, and if I am being honest he seemed to know me well enough but definitely not as much as he thinks.

“I read your blog post,” He said “The emotion was pretty intense. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay. I actually felt a lot better after I wrote that”

“Hmmm, that’s good, I guess. And you still owe me the whole story Teni. I’m really curious to know, but I can wait,”

It was not the first time Omololu was asking about this, and every time he did, I always promise that I would tell him someday. I’ve become really comfortable around Lolu, but still, I’ve not been able to share that part of my life with him. Until recently, I have had this irrational feeling of guilt whenever I’m around him; like I’m moving on too fast, or that by being with him or even considering dating him, I’m cheating on my ex. I know it’s irrational but I could not shake it off for a while. But, maybe I could share now that the hurt doesn’t feel so raw anymore, I thought. And he trusted me enough to share his story.

“Will this ‘someday’ ever come?” He asked quietly, breaking into my thought.

“I will tell you when next we hang out, okay?”

“Really, I wasn’t expecting that at all.” He said, surprise evident in his voice.

“I’m not as predictable as you think then,” I said cheekily.

“Keep telling yourself that,” He said laughing out.

“See you on Friday. I’ll pick you up okay?” He added ending the call.

I laid still on my bed thinking of how much our relationship has evolved. I love the light-hearted conversations we have, as much as the serious ones. The easiness and peacefulness of our friendship remind me so much of the friendship I had with my ex-boyfriend, Ayomide. We share a friendship that survived our breakup, and in all the pain I felt, it was the one thing I would always be grateful for.

Thinking about him brought memories flooding my mind. I remember our breakup conversation, breakup conversation, who says that? I thought chuckling to myself. It was probably the most difficult conversation we’ve ever had, it was painful but necessary. We agreed that even though we must let go of the romance, we must keep the friendship and laughter we shared.

“It’s time to get up,” I said dragging my mind back to the present.

I walked to the bathroom, took my shower, and walked out of the room in search of food.

“Finally, she emerges,” Bola said raising her hands to the heavens dramatically.

“I left some rice for you in the kitchen,” She said from her position in front of the TV.

I grinned at her, as I walked into the kitchen “I knew there was a reason I kept you around” I said good-naturedly.

Bola and I have a beautiful friendship, and this is our typical Saturday. I sleep in and only leave my room afternoon; Bola starts her day early enough, makes breakfast, and stretches out all day in front of the television, binge-watching Keeping up with the Kardashians.

“Aren’t you going to the salon again?” Bola asked, looking up as I walked into the sitting room with my plate of rice.

“I will. I will leave after eating,” I responded with my mouth full. “I already sent Aunty Ada a message, and she said she’s free now”

“Then be quick then, you know she won’t say No if another customer gets there before you.”

“Yeah, true. I just hope she doesn’t talk about marriage today, I’m in no mood to smile and play nice to a poke-nosing hairdresser”

“She means well,” Bola chuckled, earning an eye roll from me.

Aunty Ada has been our hairdresser for about three years. Bola and I often talk about how we have never met anyone like her. She is just too chatty. I think she feels an unreasonable need to fill a comfortable silence with words. Since Bola told her she was getting married, she has been bugging me about my wedding date and she just isn’t taking the hint despite my fake smiles. If not for her gifted hands, I would have jumped ship, I thought.

“Madam, hurry up,” I heard Bola say, breaking into my reverie.

I quickly finished my meal and rushed in to dress up for the salon.

“See you later,” I called out as I left for the salon.

*Originally published 18 August 2020

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