“Compatibility is an achievement of love. It shouldn’t be it’s precondition.” Alain De Botton.

•••

Lekan pulled over by the curb, and switched off the ignition of the car. The moment had come. If it was a football fixture, it’d be the kick-off of the final of the most prestigious, revered trophy in the world. It was Saturday evening, and as agreed with Anjola—he was to show up at her house at 8:00P.M., to pick her up for date night, in order to implement the first phase of their great experiment.

To say he was nervous, was an enormous understatement. This undertaking was capable of making or breaking his relationship with Anjola, and although currently it was in no monumental stage—it was still something he hated to part with. It was the core reason, he stayed out of relationships, to avoid inflicting emotional injuries on the nearest individual, and therefore become loathed. Of all people, he couldn’t bear Anjola hating him.

Anjola lived alone in a two-bedroom apartment, in Magodo G.R.A housing estate—Ikeja. She previously shared the apartment with Tiolu, but now that his sister had graduated to marital status—the apartment was hers alone. Most spinsters in the country, who didn’t come from affluent homes couldn’t afford such brazenly lush, deluxe house but not Anjola.

She worked in a reputable, oil conglomerate that of course paid her ample amount of salary. She didn’t know this, but it was one of the many things he found attractive in her and that distinguished her from other women. She had worked her way up to a luminary position in her office without being elevated by connections with higher powers, or nepotism of any form. It was nothing, but sheer grit and gumption that made her who she was. And that was only a small indication, of the essence she was laden with.

The street and atmosphere was tranquil, and void of activity. Select, luxurious lofts lined the streets—ranging from duplexes, apartment buildings and skyscrapers—and gleamed with their respective lights of differing colors, illuminating the night like a rainbow and animating the atmosphere, in such a pixilated way that Lekan felt, he was in an immersive, virtual reality game of a futuristic, utopian environment simulation.

He glanced at his sleek, silver Swatch partially buried under his long sleeved, burgundy cypress—pressed plaid shirt, that he had thrown on over tight checkered blue khaki pants and black supple, leather high top laced up boots. He had gone for something simple and succinct, so as not to come off as overzealous about the day’s activity or droopy either. What he needed was equilibrium—the right balance.

Just as he was about to reach out for his Samsung S10, to call Anjola and inform her of his arrival—a distant noise, of the placid, clanking of heels on the asphalt from his right, pulled his attention and when he looked up to his right, he did see her—through the window, waving a hand, apparently implying that she be let into the car. His anxiety escalated, but he managed to disengage the car’s lock before his willpower failed him. Anjola let herself in, adjusted into her seat and slammed the door behind her and Lekan made sure, he took his time, taking her in.

She was wearing a red, cutout back, turtle neck midi dress that fitted her body so tightly, that it spelled out her luscious shape. Women with voluptuous bodies were his kryptonite—he had no aversion for slender ones, as they could be stunning also, but his preference was fully tilted in the slim-thick direction.

His gawking spawned the time in which she used to grab her seatbelt and click it into place, and so when she was fully settled into her seat—the intensity in his eyes depleted, and he flashed her a warm smile.

Unlike him, Anjola hadn’t mastered the arts of concealing her anxiety and although it wasn’t as obvious, as her pear shaped figure—it was detectable nonetheless. He understood, since he wasn’t the most glorified saint around, after all. It was still difficult for even him, to wrap his head around the fact that he was about to go on a date with her.

“Hi,” Anjola said, smiling timidly at him and ducking her head low—so her gaze hovered over her black, clutch leather handbag. Asides from looking nice, she smelled nice also. Her fragrance seemed to be inundated with a floral-citrus, soapy scent that made him want to swallow her in one gulp. His throat must have bobbed hard in longing, because Anjola recoiled and leveled him with a scrupulous look as if to assess what exactly was wrong with him. He slunk back into his seat, and it was then he realized he was yet to provide her with a reply.

“Hey, you look stunning.” He couldn’t help himself, as he took her in again as her cheeks flooded with figurative color. Her long chunky, feed-in braids fell in a bundle of organized mess, over her face, and two long strands ran all the way down to her chest. Silver barbell earrings, were clipped into her ears and alongside her Reese ankle strapped silver heels, glimmered as a result of being the sole bright color in her outfit.

It was also quite curious, that Anjola didn’t stir up feelings of a sexual inclination alone—within him in comparison with other women, that had curvy, luscious bodies like Naade for instance who was every bit as physically endowed as Anjola, save her higher breasts and less full hips. This further endorsed his assumption that his feelings for Anjola weren’t borne out of sheer sensual roots alone—although that factored a lot into it. There was much more to it, and he hoped to explore it.

“I’d go further and emphasize just how much I find you attractive, but it’d be in explicit terms that you’d find offensive and I don’t want to end this date, before it starts so I’d keep my comment to myself.” Lekan said.

She chortled, and bit her lower lip before meeting his gaze again. Now he noticed, she hadn’t applied make-up, except light mascara smeared over her eyelashes to darken its color and further compliment her ebony, skin tone. Not a lot of women were confident without the application of artificial utility to enhance their facial beauty—but not Anjola.

Now that he thought of it, Lekan realized he had never seen her with make-up on, asides the wedding day when it was of course mandatory. He also knew, without being told that she was the reason—his sister wasn’t fond of make-up anymore, as opposed to the time before they agreed to rent an apartment. Anjola had rubbed off greatly on his sister, in a very healthy way and she didn’t even know it. In a corner of his mind, he hoped she would have the same effect on him.

“How am I even sure, of the efficiency of those words?” She replied finally, her flustered look melting into an inquisitive one. “For all I know, it could be very cliché and basic and so you’re just using the excuse of me finding it offensive, so as to keep it in. In the past you’ve not exactly been considerate of my interpretation of your words, as you’ve objectified my body multiple times. Why should you care now?”

The girl wasn’t just an intellectual, but was also astute. “Ah, well you got me there. You indeed have a point, but trust me that isn’t it. Even when I make comments like that, I never take them overboard with you. This one I have in mind is overboard, and about doubting its efficiency—it shouldn’t really matter. It’s the thought that counts, after all and you already know my thought.”

“No, actually that doesn’t apply in this situation.” Anjola shook her head, in what seemed to be contrived seriousness. “That saying only applies, when an effort has been made to execute the thought in the first place, but maybe didn’t quite hit home as intended. How can you just say the thought counts, when you didn’t do anything in the first place? So let’s assume, I promise you a car for your birthday, but I ended up not getting it at all—I get to walk up to you, and say it’s the thought that counts? And it’s just as good as getting the car? If life was that easy.”

“Fine, fine. You win.” Lekan said in surrender, lifting his hands into the air before dropping them back onto the steering. He twisted the key in the ignition slot, and the engine of the car crackled to life. He took the necessary precautions—observed activity from behind and ahead of him—before pulling into the road.

Anjola on the other hand, had retrieved her phone from her purse and was texting someone, with such ferocity as if she were trying to clobber the screen of her phone with her fingers. She was in a hurry—it would seem to get such message underway as quickly as possible. He didn’t bother prying though, because he knew it would be in vain. Anjola was an extremely private person.

“You know, you’re late right?” She looked up at him, as they burst into the main road—exiting the perimeter of the residential estate. The road was broad and steep, and so wasn’t prone to traffic but Lekan knew it was only a matter of time, before they’d ram into a gridlock. It was the streets of a congested megacity after all but fortunately, their destination wasn’t so far away and he had no reason to fear, they’d be delayed by any road circumstance.

“And now you’re late also, so don’t go around judging people.” He quipped, without affording her a sidelong glance but he knew she was taken aback by his comment.

“Excuse me? I’m only late, because you are the one responsible for showing up at my apartment to come pick me up. How’s that my fault?”

“Yeah, but this isn’t about whose fault it is. You simply said, I’m late and I said you’re late also. If you wanted to assume blames from the beginning, you should have made it clear and added that it’s my fault, and not just say I’m late, because you’re late too.” He said, with a haughty smile—eliciting a groan of displeasure from her.

“And while we’re assuming blames, it’s not just me that’s late to show up. I was waiting by the pavement for almost five minutes, before you came out. And it’s not like you’re wearing make-up or anything, that’d take so much time. Although—” He paused, to give her a cursory look. “—it’s quite obvious that pulling on that fitted gown over your body could have been a chore, because of…well you know, skinny jeans analogy.”

“Skinny jeans analogy?” She furrowed a brow.

“Yeah, you know the rigor of wearing skinny jeans and how you battle to put it on and take it off. Sometimes, you have to lie on the bed and someone has to pull at the helms of the trousers, to pull it off your body. It’s that difficult, because the cloth is very fitted—”

“My gown isn’t nearly as tight as a skinny jean—”

“I know, but the analogy is applicable because the tightness ratio is further increased by your…well, fleshy body. Yes, you have a lot of flesh.”

“Yup, that’s why I change them like outfits. Today, I’m dark in complexion, tomorrow I could wear my fair complexioned flesh if I want.”

He swallowed. “C’mon, you know that’s not what I mean.”

“It’s just a very silly analogy, Lekan.” She rolled her eyes, and her tone lost its jesting element. He wondered if she was annoyed. “I get that you’re trying not to be your usual, crude self. But are you? Or you’re just making it seem like you are? Because, if you’re trying not to be crude, you shouldn’t have made that comment in the first place, and the stupid analogy only paints a more graphic image.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” He bit his lower lip. “It was for comic relief, nothing else.”

“Alright,” She said, and faced her front. “I don’t know if you know this, but to some people—I’m fat, okay? Some people see me as fat, while some see me as just thick. And it doesn’t help, that I was once quite fat before when I was little. I’m very conscious and guarded about my body, and any comment that might not even mean harm, is capable of ruining my mood and triggering my anxiety. If it’s not too much for you, you should desist from making comments on my body for the night, at least.”

Remorse overwhelmed him, and he nodded in adherence to her wish. “Once again, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean that. But you should know this, you’re not in any way fat. I can’t believe anyone would see you as fat. It’s not possible—”

“To some people, not being slender is fat—”

“Exactly, to them. Can’t you see?” He persisted. “It’s just a constant cycle of insecurities. The thin people are jealous they don’t have a body like yours. They’re angry they can’t wear the type of gown you’re wearing currently, and look half as sexy as you—because they would look as straight as a stick. Pardon the language in my next stream of words, but I have to get my point across. They’re angry that when they walk down the street, their body isn’t swaying effervescently and packing a punch to—”

“Oh yeah?” He thought his words were soothing, but judging by Anjola’s irked expression, their intended effect might have been the opposite. “And you think I’m not angry that I can’t burst into skin-tight pants, without drawing serious attention to my body and getting irritating advances from men? You think I’m not angry, that I can’t walk down the street without drawing sneers and devious smiles from said men, when they look at me?

“You think I’m not angry or even terrified, when I accidentally overhear men talking about what they’d like do to me because of my backside? You think I constantly like being objectified and even touched inappropriately because some men just don’t have manners? Yes, I love my body but it’s not all peachy, so if it’s a contest of insecurities between me and a skinny woman, trust me I’m winning.”

Lekan opened his mouth to protest further, but no word stemmed forth. To be sincere, he had never viewed things from her perspective. He was even green enough, to assume it was all peachy indeed and that everyone admired her body in a positive light, and that there were no downsides to it for her. But he had been reoriented, and her words had definitely educed a resolution on his demeanor in that aspect.

“Once again, I’m sorry. Never saw things that way.” His volume had plummeted to a low one that was reminiscent of his remorse. He pulled over by the curb, before resuming his speech. “I just hope, you don’t forget that you’re beautiful and that you have something beautiful, a lot of people admire and long for—in the entire haze of insecurities that you contend with. Anyone that can’t appreciate your beauty, is a blind fool that you should severe all dealings with.”

“If it were that easy,” She sighed, before her lips stretched into a smile. “But thank you, though. I know I’m beautiful, I really do. And everything you said is still true. I’m happy, I can look sexy as fuck in this type of gown but then…the toll could be overwhelming sometimes. I’d try my best to fight it, so it doesn’t wear me down too much.”

“Awesome,” Lekan said, before turning an accusatory look on her. “Sexy as ‘fuck’, though? I’m indeed rubbing off on you real bad, and there hasn’t even been actual body rubbing yet.”

His current jab got him her trademark punch to the rib and he gnashed his teeth, when the expected pain sizzled through his ribs. Anjola stuck out her tongue at him, and wadded her left index finger in his face in a chastising effort. When he had recovered from the pain, she questioned him on their current proximity to their destination.

“Where exactly are we going to though? You better hurry, because we’re late enough as it is.”

Lekan leaned back on his chair, and folded his hands. “You keep saying we’re late and all, and I’m wondering if we’re going to school, and there is a prefect at the gate taking attendance and all. Yes, we might be a bit behind on schedule so? Tomorrow is Saturday, and I know you don’t have to report early to work, if it’s premium sleep time you’re considering. So what exactly is your problem, though?”

“I have to get back to my apartment early, smartass.” She rolled her eyes. “Just because I live in a government reserved area, doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous at all. This is the mainland, after all. But you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, since you’re an island boy. Just last week, an acquaintance of mine got mugged outside her apartment early in the morning, after she had returned from vigil. And that was early in the morning, like couple of minutes to four. Talk less of the midnight itself.”

“Really? She was returning from vigil and something that unfortunate happened?” Lekan’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally, at her. “I mean, if she were returning from the club then it’s understandable. But since she was coming from church, I’d expect God’s protection to be on her, you know? I mean, what’s the essence of going to church in the first place, if not to first of all acquire protection. Or maybe, she didn’t pray well in church and was nodding off , sleeping.”

Anjola shook her head, and sighed. “I don’t even think, you understand a figment of how God and Christianity—works. Anyhoo, you’re straying off topic again. I asked a question, earlier. Where exactly are we headed?”

“We’re here exactly,” Lekan said, ejecting the key from its slot and gesticulating for Anjola to disembark. After alighting, he strode over to her side of the car—where she was inspecting the surroundings, with keen vigilance and caution.

They were currently in a dark, deserted street which terrain, was made obscure as a result of absence of building headlights. The road seemed steep and sloppy upwards, but that wasn’t the attribute that was the most startling. No, it was the sheer fact that there was no life of any form—either parked cars, illuminated buildings or hikers—on the path. But he had been here multiple times, and knew it was more than safe. Matter of fact, the exterior was made to be frightening on purpose so as to discourage people from venturing further.

“Lekan, this place looks hideous.” Anjola said, turning to face him. “I don’t know which doesn’t make sense more. The fact that we stopped here, or the fact that somehow, where we’re going to for a date, is this place.”

“I know, I know but trust me.” Lekan assured her, placing comforting hands on her shoulders. “This place was made to look hideous on purpose, so people wouldn’t go inside and check out what it’s about.”

“Yes? Isn’t that enough reason for us to turn around and not proceed further?”

He shook his head. “This is just like Wakanda, in Marvel comics. You remember in the Black Panther movie, the country is surrounded by tropical forests and a huge farmland. It’s nothing but a disguise, so that the entire world wouldn’t know the gem inside.”

Anjola turned towards the imagery before them, and turned back to him. “I don’t see how there is a force field, somewhere here. In this country, for that matter.”

“No force field, something less complicated actually.” He smirked, releasing his arms from her shoulders. “If you’re too scared, I could place a call to Tiolu right away, and tell her that I’m with you—just so you don’t think I have evil intentions for you. She’d know I’m with you. That’d put your mind at rest.”

“What? No. Whatever you do, don’t do that.” She looked horrified and even staggered back a bit. “Tiolu isn’t dumb. She is going to put two and two together, and know something is up. I’m not ready for her knowing, anything is going on between the both of us. Especially, when she doesn’t know the exact details and would just assume we’re dating, just because…and not for the fact that we’re testing a certain hypothesis.”

Although Anjola spoke nothing but the truth, her words still stung him hard and reminded him of the fact that on a regular day, she would never give him a shot and she was also, ashamed of him and secretive about the fact that they were in a relationship to her best friend. He wondered if such clause, would extend to everybody else in her life or if it stopped with Tiolu.

“Aha, so you see? I have dirt on you.” He kept his pain, under lock and key. “If you don’t agree to follow me to the end of the street, and see what’s in store for you—I’m going to call Tiolu, and tell her we’re in a relationship. So, your choice.”

Anjola chuckled softly, and shook her head before giving him the desired reply. “Fine, let’s do this.”

***

“Here we go,” Lekan said, at the base of the short stairwell leading to the entrance of the vessel. The exact features of the vessel, Anjola couldn’t discern as a result of their environment being dark and murky—but from its length and width, she was able to deduce that it was a train of some sort.

Unlike the dark alley, that held them in its belly—the train was illuminated. Although satin curtains were drawn over the windows, she was able to make out that much from the dimmed rays of light, spilling out onto the road outside. There also seemed to be ongoing activity, as connoted by the noise—acoustic music, shuffling and clattering noises, buzz of lively chatter—inside. None of it made sense. Why would a train, containing people be in the middle of nowhere? And why were they here also?

“Trust me, I’d explain when we’re settled in.” Lekan said, in a bid to pacify her and it worked. Minutes later, they had ascended up the staircase and into the burgeoning life. Anjola gasped, thunderstruck by the atmosphere. It simply didn’t make sense, at all. She found herself in the middle of a train carriage, that could be likened to a mobile circus or fair in town.

Tables and chairs, were draped in elegant sheets with floral embroidery and on said tables, were a wide array of content ranging from high stainless dish platters, to bottles of champagne and confectionery stands. Corpulent, golden studded globes that glimmered like decorous trophies, illuminated the room, running from one end to the carriage to another. The walls that were painted in aesthetic design, consisting of irregular paint strokes and murals—appeared like, the lighting had condensed into liquid, and stained the walls in strokes.

Men and women were also present, in ceremonial outfits—suits and dinner gowns—looking dashing, as they seemed to be having the time of their lives. Waiters in casual outfits, with a uniform apron strewn to their bodies, were also dispersed evenly in the room—attending to customers who sought their service.

Hip-grinding, funk pop also blasted from the speakers that seemed to be merged with the walls. The place could easily pass as a club, except there was no misdemeanor of any sort that was visible, as the people on board were civil and cultured. Neither was there pungent smoke, spewing from certain, corners in the room capable of boggling the mind into an untamed, wild state. All in all, she was glad she trusted Lekan and relied on his diplomacy.

“Not so bad after all, huh?” Lekan beamed, looping his arm through hers and guiding her towards the end of the carriage. The passengers seemed so absorbed and engrossed, with whatever activity they had in motion—that they didn’t spare them a glance at all, as they walked through their midst.

She almost asked Lekan, if they were invisible or had journeyed through some portal into a world, they could only perceive and not influence. Her fear was debunked, after they settled down and a waiter arrived to take their order, confirming that they were indeed feasible. They both ordered for plates of fried rice, and turkey with complimentary coleslaw. While they awaited the arrival of their order, Lekan usurped the moment to explain like he had promised.

“So, I know you have a lot of questions as to why this even exists and how it works.” He sat up in his seat, with his hands clasped on the table. The yellow, embedded lights made his dark, features more appealing like a caramel, glazed chocolate fountain. A part of her was still gradually coming to grips with the fact that they were on a date.

“So, this is a luxurious train project that was implemented by philanthropists. You know, to meet the standards in other states and even exceed them, since we all know Lagos trains are nothing to write home about. But then, after it was completed—it was sidelined as a result of the government’s criminally high rate of commission, demanded. The magnates behind the project are still deliberating on whether to abandon it or go through with it. So for now, it’s here and anyone who belongs to the inner circle of said magnates, can make use of it.”

Comprehension dawned on Anjola. “And let me guess, your dad is one of the philanthropists in question responsible for the inception?”

“Yup,” Lekan nodded, and then the waiter arrived with their meal. After delivering their trays of food, the thirty something year old man—scurried off to the side of another expecting passenger. Lekan’s explanation was plausible, but some things still didn’t add up. The train was packed to the brim with people. Was it usually this way or there was a certain day it opened?

“Is there a certain day, this thing opens?” Lekan nodded, just as she enquired and then everything finally clicked into place. “I really hope the government doesn’t get in the way of this. To think, we could have luxurious train inter-state rides in vessels like this. It’d be worth every single, dime spent. Instead of risking air travel all the time.”

“Well, all we can do is hope.” He replied, just before delving into his meal. Asides their dishes, they had been served bottles of water with Ariel Chardonnay and Eva wine. Anjola had insisted they opt for something nonalcoholic, so they wouldn’t lose their cognitive faculties. Plus, there was still the journey back home to consider. “So, how was your week? Hectic as usual?”

“Very hectic,” She sighed, as she sat up—positioning her fork and knife into appropriate position in her hands. After scooping a mouthful of rice into her mouth, she chewed contentedly before resuming. “It was almost as if, the workload knew I was going to have a date today and was intentionally trying to wear me out. The auditing of the firm was supposed to be next week Friday, but all of a sudden it was brought forward to yesterday, as a result of the auditing team scheduling conflict with another company.

“The entire account department was on fire, running helter-skelter to put things in place, before the professionals arrived. Business operations, were even brought in to assist us—just to show you how overwhelming the work was. Sha, the audit people came in, did their thing and left. It’s until next year again.”

Lekan was eating also, but with a spoon and she couldn’t help but wonder the origin—since their dishes hadn’t come with the cutlery. As if reading her mind, he held up his spoon and smiled. “Yeah, they don’t have spoons here so I brought my own spoon. I hate eating with fork and knife. So…to the topic of discussion. This auditing people are like, these external accountants that come in to assess the company’s records to determine if the profits they publish, is truly in accordance with their documents, so as to detect discrepancy?”

“Yup, hey you said discrepancy!” Anjola’s cheeks, rose into a smile as she slid her rice loaded fork into her mouth, again. “Who knew you could use a vocabulary word? Anyhoo, in the world of accounting—auditors are like the criminal lawyers or the medical surgeons, if you might. The job pays a lot, but there is so much at stake that you can’t risk it.

“For example, auditors are usually bribed by companies, to falsify their findings of course since most companies are dishonest about their sales figures. If you have a code of conduct, and refuse said bribe—you’d only be endangering your own life. They compromise a lot of auditors. Find something on them, to make them expendable. If that’s not enough, some principalities go as far as killing them just to retain their image. It’s that dangerous.”

“Wow, that’s heavy.” The ugly truth in her words didn’t seem to faze Lekan, as his attention seemed to be for his food only. Unlike her, he was more than halfway through clearing his plate because of his faster rate of eating, courtesy of his smuggled spoon. “But not this chicken that I was served. It’s not heavy at all.” Lekan lifted the chicken wing from his plate, and scrutinized its size almost as if he were trying to decipher some code written on it.

Anjola hissed, and resumed her own eating. “So, the audit went successfully anyway. I’m not entirely sure if Sigma, bribes the auditors, but there are some loopholes here and there that is miraculously covered up by the accounting heads. Sigma makes a shizload of profit though, and if they’re exaggerating their wealth—it’s by a small percentage. But still, I know something is fishy and I’m not even surprised, because it’s a big corporation after all. That’s enough about me. Tell me about your own week?”

Lekan was already wiping his hands with the serviette, and pouring himself a glass of wine from the Ariel Chardonnay bottle. He reclined into his seat with his glass, and heaved a sigh of gratification. “First week at dad’s office, so perhaps the most stressful week of my entire life. Had to first of all face this board of directors, that are so old and stern-looking, which made me almost ask if the company pays them, per second frown. As in, if it’s their frowns that is bringing in money for them. Then I had to meet the staff. I expected that to be fun, since I would be the boss in the room and could be true to myself and be jovial, but this guys were also looking stern and bored, like it is a criteria for the job also.”

Anjola sat up also, pouring herself a glass of water. She hadn’t completed with her meal, but she was more than full already. “There was no one there at all, that made you look forward to working with them?”

At this, Lekan paled and adjusted in his seat as if her words had taken him by surprise. When he talked next, his words seemed to be shrouded in some guarded instinct. “Not exactly, nope. My partner is a friend, I knew from before but other than that…nobody at all. Which is depressing, because the work isn’t fun in the first place. Silly me had automatically assumed the office would be as fun as it is in drama sitcoms.”

His composure spelt out the fact that he didn’t find the topic comfortable in some way, and she decided not to press on. It wasn’t like, it was a pleasurable topic anyway. Before, she could hassle herself on what topic was best to discuss, Lekan interjected.

“Right now, in your mind you’re probably wondering how you ended up here. On a date, with me of all people.” He had a swaggering smile on, as he sipped from his glass of wine.

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” She said, speaking nothing but the truth. “Let me ask you a question though, do people really change? Many schools of thought believe change in humans is impossible, while some people have claimed to change and leave certain habits behind. What’s your stance on that?”

Lekan was no fool, and of course knew the implication of her inquiry but he indulged her request anyway. “Well, I’m not entirely sure about that but I think both school of thoughts are true. In the sense that, people are capable to change and leave certain habits behind, if said habits aren’t so big and defining of who they are. If it’s something that’s big and a huge part of them however, that’s when the uncertainty crawls in.” He paused, downing the last gulp in the glass down his mouth, before returning it to the table. “You’re indirectly asking me, if I can change?”

“Yes, maybe.” She nodded, without beating around the bush. “I know this whole thing is about exploring, and testing if our feelings for each other are shallow or deep, but I also have to consider the possibility that it’s legit and the fact that we could graduate into a long term relationship.

“Hence, the curiosity. Exclusivity would always apply in a relationship, I’m involved in and so I’m always particular about the other person being comfortable with the idea, before robing them into it. I think I’ve told you this before, but I’d say it again anyway. At this stage in my life, I don’t bother dating anyone I don’t see myself getting married to. I’m not a young woman.”

“I understand,” Lekan nodded, meeting her gaze. “Your question is no simple thing, of course. After all, you’re asking me if I can leave behind the life I’ve been living for years? I don’t know if that’s possible, but I’m willing to try and I think that matters for now. Plus, Tiolu changed so I don’t think I’m beyond redemption. I just have to find the secret recipe too.”

Anjola jerked her head back, and scrunched her nose. “Sorry? Did you just compare yourself with Tiolu?”

“Yes, is she Michael Jackson, and am I an upcoming musician that I can’t make said comparison?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes in such a petty way that drew laughter from her. “Tiolu was pretty much like me. She was on a flexing fever. Clubbed frequently, had casual unofficial relationships with guys she frequently made out with, and did a lot of you know…touching.

“While she might not have had sex with anyone, it’s more borne out of her paranoid of STD’s and all because she was a doctor. Not because she was a saint or anything. Matter of fact, a girl who is in a long term relationship with someone she frequently sleeps with, is actually a saint compared to Tiolu because the person has one person in her life.”

The thought sounded bizarre, upon her first hearing of it but now that she pondered—she realized Lekan was speaking nothing but the truth, after all. When she met Tiolu, the girl was wild. Clubbed and partied hard frequently, although the vicarious life didn’t wear her out and diminish her work input. She was still a brilliant doctor nonetheless, but the fact that she was wild couldn’t be disputed. But the girl had indeed changed. Ever since finding Dayo, her frenzied life had withered and faded into nothingness. And the transition had been so seamless, almost as if it was as unproblematic as undressing a gown. So why was Anjola quick to assume Lekan was beyond redemption?

“Well, you do have a point but then…I really don’t know.” She said, finally weighing her words carefully. “Sure, Tiolu was all that but I was able to get the vibe off her, that she didn’t exactly enjoy doing those things. Not like there was no satisfaction to be found in it or something. Otherwise, why else was she doing it? I just feel she was doing it, to make herself feel and give herself a thrill, not because it’s as enjoyable as you find it.

“Like, when you’re depressed and your mood is so low, and your mind so numb—that you just do anything, something to make you feel. You might not exactly love doing that thing, but you love the thrill it produces. I think that’s what it was for Tiolu, such that when she eventually found what she really loved—a man she fell in love with—it was easy for her to abandon all of that, and leave it in the past.”

“It would be pointless arguing, because you know her better than I do.” Lekan replied, but his monotone implied he wasn’t surrendering yet. Right at the moment, a waiter arrived and whisked their cleared dishes away—leaving behind the bottles of wine and glasses, of course. She decided internally to take the wine home, since her tummy couldn’t stomach more visitors. “But still, she changed. That’s the point. That was a huge, defining point of who she was and she was able to drop her old habits. I don’t think it’s illogical to just rule that out.”

“Okay, then. You’re capable of change also.” Anjola caved in, much to Lekan’s relief. “Do you believe in love, though?”

Lekan cleared his throat. “Me believing in love or not, doesn’t take anything away from it. But I’ve come around to understanding that the true meaning of love, according to a friend—isn’t the attraction or the strong feelings of a romantic nature, that you feel for someone. It’s a decision actually, to choose that same person, over and over again even though they lose their values of desirability.”

“That friend sure knows what he or she is talking about. But I still think feelings are involved eventually, because might as well love an ogre. You still need to find the person attractive to a reasonable extent, so feelings factor into it. But yeah, I agree it’s more of a conscious decision consisting of sacrifices and a lot of giving. Do you believe in this, though? Just answer, I know it doesn’t take anything from what love means.”

“Maybe, I mean I have to be choosing that person for a reason, right? So they probably have something, a lot of people—or if not everyone doesn’t have, so yeah I guess I can work with that.”

“Good, what about marriage? What’s your stance on that? Do you see it as something…worth dying for?”

Lekan seemed to be in an anguish of ambiguity. “I honestly haven’t given that a lot of thought, though. If you told me this date was going to have an examination, I’d have definitely prepared myself by revising past questions.”

She tittered, and rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly, I’m just curious. Okay, to make this easier for you—when someone asks you what is the most fulfilling thing in life to you, what comes first to your head, marriage or a prosperous career?”

Lekan’s distress didn’t dissipate. “I honestly don’t know, Anjola. What comes to my mind is mostly…pleasure and satisfying stuff. Not exactly, any of those two in particular. It’s marriage for you, isn’t it? As in the most fulfilling thing?”

“Maybe? I don’t know. The thing is, when I think of my career, I know I want to do really great things but I can’t exactly think past, working in a big establishment, which I’m already working in. I don’t have some ultimate, innovative idea that my colleagues don’t have. I don’t think outside the box. I don’t even dream to have my own accounting firm in the future or anything. I’m sort of contented with where I am currently. But when I think of marriage however—”

“You think outside the box and see yourself with three to five husbands?” Lekan quipped, and she burst into a frantic laughter. He was lucky, that their plates and utensils had been cleared off. If not, she’d have assaulted him with a knife throw.

“When I think of marriage, I just have…numerous ideas of what I’m going to be like as a mother.” She continued. “What I’m going to be like as a wife. What I want my house to be like, and the order I’d always like to maintain. What I want my kids to be like, and how disciplined I’d strive to make them be. What I want my relationship with my husband to be like. Incredibly intimate, without no boundaries and limits. The kind of impact, I’d like to make as a family woman. The kind of strides I’d love to make in going against the image of marriage not being something, to look forward to.

“Some woke women are tarnishing the image of marriage, just in a bid of getting the women to compete with the men in career prospects. That’s a great thing, but now marriage is being undermined and seen as this…inferior thing, that people who don’t bother about achieving great things, aspire for.

“The truth of the matter is, great or small is relative to the preference of the individual. Different people cherish different stuff, and so it isn’t okay for anybody to come out—and say one isn’t an achievement, and one is. And so, the ones that don’t like the so called thing labeled as the achievement? Are they to feel insecure and inferior for the rest of their life? So much stuff, I want to come up against from the perspective of a married woman, with a successful, happy home.”

Lekan didn’t reply for a moment, and his eyes seemed entranced by her words. Her paranoia jump started, and began to trouble her. Was he disenchanted upon the unveiling of her true persona? Was he expecting something else? Perhaps, she had emitted a different vibe that seemed affiliated with career conquests and the likes. Maybe, that was even what he found attractive about her but now it had all evaporated?

“Anjola, I don’t know about you but I can speak for myself.” Lekan sat up, meeting her gaze. “My feelings for you are deep. Far deeper than the average, regular type and I think it might be so deep, that I’m already falling in love with you.”

Relief extinguished the flames of anxiety, burning in her and she relaxed into her chair—digesting his words. Unlike she had expected, Lekan seemed to be awestruck by the crux of her persona, but that only made her subconscious agitated. He found her true-self rewarding, but could the same be said about her? How exactly was she going to feel, when she lifted the veil of his character and peered deeper into his soul?

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And so the first phase of the story has ended. What do you think the future holds for Lekan and Anjola? I know it's going to be a rollercoaster. What do you think?

Express your thoughts in the comments, and tap that star before proceeding onto the second phase of the story.