Dangerous Love - Episode 5

I could hardly concentrate on the song we were currently rehearsing in the choir practice.

Temi Odunuga.

My knight in shining armor.

The horror I experienced two days ago played afresh in my mind with the vestige of shame and disgust imprinted into my psychological drive.

The rapists after severe beating had confessed that Tony was the mastermind of the operation and had added Rohypnol to our drinks thus incapacitating our resistance to the plunder of our womanhood.

Rita had told me this on phone when she was apologizing to me and I had not seen her since that day. I suppose the shame of facing me; of how she would have been the cause of a somewhat unbearable loss.

Although I told her I was not angry with her or blaming her.

I knew she was blaming herself for leading us into that precarious position.

Temi Odunuga.

The boy’s face rose again into my imaginative roving, Temi had brought me home with his car and had tucked me in bed.

I thanked my stars the next morning thanking God my Dad was not come home that day because he was held up in work.

I could imagine how the scene would have played out and I knew disaster would have been inevitable.

My Dad is an overprotective freak.

Temi also left his number neatly stenciled on a white sheet of paper and placed on my vanity.

I have not called him since that day.

I mean what can I say to him?

A boy who has seen me at my worst.

I knew I was being ungrateful but I was just too ashamed to thank him even though we were separated by telephonic chasm.

Temi Odunuga.

His name reverberated in my head as foggy accounts of my tale of woe was replayed in my mind in a jigsaw puzzle fashion.

I did not even bother to rearrange, no need in knowing the doltish stuffs I must have done in my drunken state.

A curt reprimand from the Choir Master brought me out of my day dreaming and I found myself to be the center of attraction from the other choristers.

All eyes practically were on me.

I have been asked to do something.

As a matter of fact, I had been asked to sing the song he had spent the last thirty minutes teaching us.

As expected I fumbled and was asked to stand to clear what ever cobwebs I had in my head.

The other choristers snickered. I knew they were not too fond of me, ever since my Mom died I was treated like an egg by my choir master and I’m sure that must have seemed like an excess to the other choristers.

I stood for like thirty minutes before my choir master asked me to sing the song which I did perfectly in my rich contralto voice.

I was told to sit down.

At home.

I had prepared my dad’s favorite meal which was rice and fried plantain.

As he ate with relish and rendered adulations on my superb culinary skills.

Then

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He dropped the bomb.

“Where did you go on Thursday Peace?” he asked calmly impaling a fried plantain with his fork and slowly eating it.

“Nowhere” I lied, my heartbeat thumping resoundingly in my ribcage and perspiration flowing ebulliently from my sweat pores.

Now i understand the great distress Jesus Christ underwent in the Bible that made him sweat blood.

Hematridosis.

How did he know?

My dad banged his hand irascibly on the table spewing rice and stew on the white table spread.

“What did you say?” He asked angrily.

I stuttered unintelligbly.

“A black car drove you and Rita into this house by ten thirty five on Thursday, and you say you went nowhere right?” his squinted his eyes in anger and I knew that when he was in that mood it was better to keep quiet and let him vent.

“Who drove you into this house Peace?”

“A friend.” I replied stoically.

“Go on” he prompted me.

“A friend I met at a party Rita invited me to” I said with my voice quivering.

My dad’s disapproval look came on with his brows furrowed and his eyes squinted shut.

If not for the fact that  Rita had been an indelible help during the time cancerous cells were laying waste to my mom in the oncology section of Lagos State University Teaching Hospital during her chemotherapy and cancer treatment  routine. I was sure my dad would have prohibited our friendship.

He pushed his chair from the dining table and looked at me squarely in the eyes.

“I don’t ever want to see or hear you that you left this house without my permission”

“Do you hear me?” he said pulling his ears.

“Yes Sir” I said demurely as he resumed eating his meal.

“I’m very sorry dad” I said conveying the demeanor of  resipiscence.

He waved off my apology and I resumed my meal wondering.

Who told Dad?

After our lunch I cleared the table and  proceeded  to wash the dirty plates in the kitchen. Washing plates have always been my favorite chore, as I washed the plates I ruminated on who would have seen us and had the time to check the time and in great detail describe the car that brought me home.

My Dad had warned me most times that he had someone watching me when he was not around.

I always thought it was fib but now I will beg to differ.

Mama Ngozi the greengrocer beside the gate?

Mr. John who lives down the street?

Who?

I concluded that I was going to fish out who the buttrinsky was and devise better ways of avoiding the monitoring spirit.

I also concluded while washing that I was going to call Temi and thank him.

I wasted no time in calling him. I didn’t want to forestall the walk of shame any longer.

His phone rang twice then it was picked.

“Hello” a cool voice breathed into my ears.

“Hello, is this Temi Odunuga?” I asked stammering with my heart beating rapidly in my chest.

“Yes it is. Who is this?” he asked coolly.

I began to explain who I was but to my greatest shock I discovered no meaningful words were forthcoming. I merely made indecipherable stutters and was suddenly the stupidity of my speechlessness dawned on me.

I quickly ended the call and closed my eyes in shame.

He called back.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Your boyfriend is calling you.  I heard my inner voice say.

He’s not my boyfriend! I quieted my presumptuous inner voice.

He called again.