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Pamela

 "Iyaaa mi, iyaaa mi (my mother), (my mother)" Faith cried loudly, she had a three year old boy in her arms who looked withdrawn probably not understanding the reason for his moms tears. 

We spent almost three hours at the hospital waiting for her.

She was Mrs Anjola, the woman we helped that died, only daughter. Mrs Anjola had 4 children; 3 boys and a girl. The eldest was abroad and hasn't visited or called home in the last ten years, the other was in prison and the last male child in Ahmadu Bello University studying law. Faith who was the youngest attended Kwara state university. Their father was a Dangote truck driver from Kaduna who was late.
She had narrated it all to us when she reached the hospital that evening, wondering how she was going to pay the hospital bills. When she heard that Chris settled them she started another fresh bout of tears and it tugged my heart that she was an orphan.

I wasn’t a stranger to loss but to have no parents at all was a fate I wished on no one.

Death truly is a terrible thief.

"Ah iyaami you can't leave me too, who will take care of  me now? She wailed over and over.

Mr CEO was hugging her tightly, I knew his name but to think of him on name basis means I acknowledged his existence.

It never gets easier breaking the news of a loved ones death to their family member or being around to see their hopes crumble.  I could still hear Faiths cry even though I now stood outside the morgue. 

Mr CEO hugged her a bit too tight and she clung to his shirt as a lifeline.  My heart skipped a tiny bit. I know he was consoling her, for death was messy but inevitable. We must all die one way or the other, but must he hold her so close?

"Shhheeeeesh snap out of it, you sound like a jealous lover" I chastised myself muttering the words to myself so that it could sink.

"Miss let's go," Mr CEO said. His voice stood out in the dim night. His voice was clear; not as deep as most males, a rich bass, smooth and hard at the same time. He was usually cold and closed off and for the first time since all the random meets fates been throwing our way, I saw sadness in his eyes. I wanted to look away, but those eyes were compelling.

He was staring at me strangely also, then he urged, "Come on, the driver has brought the car around."

It must be the emotional feels of the day or the fact that he looked sad made me see him as a human. I was telling him my name even though I was sure he knew it already "Pamela," I answered quickly my voice almost a whisper before I changed my mind.

"Pardon?’  He asked confused.

"My name is Pamela Williams." Immediately it rolled off my tongue it sounded stupid that I was even telling him but since it was out there I couldn’t take it back.

He smirked. Not a grin or a smile just a stupid arrogant smirk that messed up his features in a way I really liked, then muttered "Oh alright."

That was all he said, as he opened the door for me like a gentleman which he was not.

I just told him my name, and all he said was 'oh', as if I stated the obvious. In his defense it was an old information but the least he could do was to be more original than that.

Earlier while rushing to the hospital, I was too busy with Mrs Anjola to rate the cars interiors. I loved cars, the smell of pure leather seats, the power behind your hand when you hold the gear it was pure magic. I looked carefully now, trying to observe as much as I could about the ice machine that sat in front, leaving me and Faith at the back.

The car was clean, almost spotless. Its interior looked new with all its covers in black, which led me to the conclusion that this man had a dangerous fixation with black. What caught my eye was a simple crucifix hanging up on the internal mirror, which felt strange and out of place considering my definition of him.

The cross, he had the sign of the cross in his car. It was simple but it must mean a lot. He was definitely a Christian but this explained something else, which as much as I tried to rack my tired brain on I couldn’t lay my finger on. He did not seem the super religious type with his all black nature.

The car ride was silent, Faith looked out of the window quietly without making a sound and my heart ached for her. Her son was sleeping quietly in her arms without making a fuss it’s almost as if he knew something's changed. 

The silence in the car was nerve wracking and I took the time to inform my family what was going on.

The car stopped in front of a storey building, where Faith's uncle lives. The street was busy even though it was almost seven in the evening. A dark woman wearing a pink hijab manned a huge iron grill where she flipped plantain. She was making Bole- roasted plantains to be served with grilled fish, peppery sauce or even fried groundnuts. There was quite the lineup in front of her enterprise.

I haven't eaten street food in forever. Staring at the woman temporarily distracted me from the people discussing beside the car.

I overheard Faith refusing his offer to see her in, claiming that he’s done enough already.

"Where to Temitope?"  He opened the door and sat beside me at the back and it suddenly occurred to me that he was calling me by my middle name.

I didn’t know whether to be mad he did that or just plain surprised. "Any hotel nearby please, also you’re not allowed to call me Temitope" it sounded way too intimate and personal when it came out from his lips for reasons unknown to me.

"Mr Andrews sent us your detail and it read Pamela Temitope Williams." Mr CEO shrugged like I asked a dumb question.

"Pamela is my first name. Why do you call me Temitope?"

"It suits you and I prefer it plus Pamela means; sweet like honey which you are not." This time he was smiling at me, for someone who rocks the brooding look all so well this was a good surprise. And so I laughed after all he was right I wasn't all smiles and rainbow most time.

"Don’t blame yourself about her death, you did your best and I thought you were so cool." Somehow this shouldn’t matter to me but I couldn’t help but bask in his subtle praise.

How did he even know I blamed myself for her death?  I kept thinking of ways I could have done better, maybe jamming a pen into her pleural space ruptured the mast of cancer, or maybe I___

"Just pray that God comforts her family" he cut through my thoughts with his smooth silky drawl.  His cold mask was back in place now, "Regarding the business deal what is your proposal? I will be unavailable from tomorrow."

This man had issues he kept blowing hot and cold, he was smiling at me just now and now this, well two can play.

"We want thirty percent shares in CHANCE for it."

"You can't compare the thirty percent in quality life to the one we have here, the price is almost double, so I will give you, eighteen percent which is three percent more than it should be, agreed?"

"Yes" I answered quietly. I was tired on all fronts and honestly we shouldn’t even be getting more than ten percent, his offer was very generous.

He looked at me shocked, kind of like he was expecting a fight or argument and it was at this time my rebellious stomach choose to rumble loudly.

He sent me an amused look when he heard it and I quelled the insane urge to feel embarrassed after all food was a sure necessity for life.

"Drive to fork and knives obi" he instructed calmly with a corner of his lips quirked up in a tiny smile. I was so embarrassed and wanted saying I wasn't hungry but that will be a lie, so instead I said:
"I look a mess, thanks for the offer  but I'll just go to a hotel and get settled in. Which hotel are you taking me to?’ looking him dead straight in the eye.

"I look a mess also but it doesn't matter,  food first and trust me you will enjoy it." I stared at him in his three piece suit well put together and wondered where he got his definition of mess from.

I still had blood stains on my dress even though I rinsed it off, my bun looked out of place.

When I’m nervous I say things without thinking them through then I wish for the ground to open up and swallow me.
"Is this a date" I asked before my brain could catch up with my mouth.

"No, I don't date" he replied bluntly.

Swallow me now! Please swallow me up.

We drove on in silence and in my entire life I have never felt so foolish. I did not even think it through before I spoke. I was just feeling anxious and so I said the first thing I thought.

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How do you like your bole?
A) with grilled fish
B) with peppery sauce that has kpomo and meat cut into tiny pieces cooked with red oil
C) with fried groundnuts?

Who missed me leave your comment right here😍😘😁🙌

Who is looking forward to our awkward dinner😀😀😀😁🙌?

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