𝓛𝓲𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓼

The girls are all busy preparing for the welcome celebration as I make my way to the back of the house to find them. Some are pounding, and some are plucking the vegetables. 

"Una wel done oo." I greet them with a large smile. The family is rich enough to hire chefs for the party, but they choose not to. Knowing how the Madam of the House is, even if her husband gives her the money to employ the chefs, she will rather go shopping with the money and then overwork her staff without giving them any compensation. 

"Eno, welcome. Madam Ebere, just comot now." One of the girls informs me as she presses the folded vegetable leaves on a wooden chop board with one hand while holding a knife on the other. 

"I know; I see her as I come." I say to the girl, "Una know whether Oga don wake?" I inquire, figuring they ought to be aware given that they got up early for work. 

But I'm surprised when another girl replies, "I no know oo, e never come downstairs." And the others shake their heads in agreement with the girl. 

I sigh slowly before adding, "Okay, make una do; I dey come." Then I enter the house using the back door. 

The kitchen is exactly as organized as I recall, and still standing close to the kitchen counter is a tall refrigerator. I move closer to it, open it, and take out the sealed loaf of bread, butter, and other ingredients I'll need to prepare the toast bread. 

I turn on the electric kettle to boil water before turning on the toaster to begin toasting the bread. After that, I hastened to arrange the dining room table when I heard someone coming down the stairs. 

Realizing it is the man of the house approaching, I hurriedly voice out my greetings, "Good morning, sir."  

The first response I receive from him is a hum and a soft nod of his head. 

He approaches and stops in front of me as his obscene eyes sweep over my body. "You appear different. I assumed you had ceased visiting this place." 

"No, sir, most mornings when I come, you are either off to work or you’ve traveled," I reply quite frankly. 

"True, true; as you can see, I’m a very busy man; I’m only home today because of my son’s arrival."

 Since I've been here, their son's arrival has dominated conversation. He pulls out a seat that is tugged underneath the dining table and sits, saying, "Please join me." He offers.

 "No, thank you, sir; I already ate." I lie. What are the others going to say when they see me dining with him? Ah no, oo. Let's run away from trouble when we see it.

 "Okay, but you are not going to stand behind me while we talk." He states it again. 

Understanding what he means, I draw out another chair quite close to his and sit. 

"How are things with you and your daughter?" Even though he appears to take a sip of tea while asking a question, the sarcasm that is scrawled on his lips is visible despite the seeming friendliness of his query.

 However, after realizing the intent behind his inquiry, I still manage to respond, "Fine, sir, and Unwana is fine too."

 His refusal to take his lascivious eyes off of me causes me to suddenly feel uneasy. "I assumed that the reason you stopped coming here was due to what I said the last time. The offer is still valid, and it has the power to change both your life and your daughter's. Eno—" 

The thought of our last encounter irks me to no end. I clearly recall him pestering me to have an affair with him in exchange for him looking after me and my daughter. Most girls, in my circumstance, would happily take the offer, but not me. 

Besides, Mr. Oke is a tall, affluent, gray-haired man who attracts young, materialistic girls despite being in his late 70s. Even now, there are still concerns that prevent me from contemplating his offer. I don't want to encourage more adultery, especially in light of how Ubong's action shattered me.

 Mr. Oke was rejected back then, and I will continue to reject him.
 

Causally, He places his outstretched hands on my thigh. Feeling upset that my purple flowered dress stands as a barrier between his palm and my bare skin, he then attempts to lift up the dress. Noticing this, I quickly yell, then I threaten, furious at his unquenchable lust, "Sir, I want to respect you; don't let me change my mind." 

It's not a good idea to sit this close to him. While he resumes slurping his tea, I endure his obnoxious chuckle. The tone of his subsequent statements thus mirrors both his seriousness and his displeasure. "Eno, stop acting so immature. I think you prefer how things are right now. I'll do anything you ask of me as long as you say yes." 

Oh God! Why is this man so flawed? I ask myself that one question, the one for which I have no satisfactory response. 

"You men are the same. You are always thirsty, and nothing seems to quench it." I do my best to control my irritation. 

But this man finds pride in his sport, and his next word literally proves it: "You are right. Look at me; I’m wealthy and powerful, so I have the right to enjoy my life, and I've given you an opportunity to enjoy it with me." 

This man is delusional. Did I tell him that my life lacks enjoyment? I smile a bit, weighing the annoying words from his mouth. "Thank you, but my daughter and I are fine." 

All the girls walking in this house already know about Mr. Oke's philandering. He lusts over every female he sets his eyes on. If all men act like him, I'd rather become a reverend sister. No joke. 

Ah, but Mrs. Oke is trying. I’m sure she’s aware of her husband’s infidelity.

 After a little period of silence, I break the air by saying, "Madam Ebere requested that I assist the girls with the cooking; I think I'll go do that right away." I inform him before getting up without seeking his permission.

 "Oh, you can take this with you." He points at the remaining toast and the empty tea cup. 

When I stoop to pick them up, I notice that he has his eyes fixed on my bust. And when his eyes finally divert to meet my infuriated gaze, he flashes an eerie grin across his face before flexing his eyebrows at me.

 If anything, I should flee from this man as quickly as I can before I do something I'll regret.
 

I carry dishes to the kitchen softly, trying not to make a scene as I exhale hushed utterance, "Pervert."

1156 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘

PIDGIN                                ENGLISH

Una wel done oo- - - - - - I greet you all, well-done

Just comot now- - - - - - just went out

I know I see her as I dey come. Una know whether oga don wake?- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I know, I saw her as I came in. Do you know if Mr. Oke Is awake?

I no know oo, e never come downstairs- - - - - - - - - - -I don’t know, he hasn’t come downstairs yet

Okay, make una do, I dey come- - - - I’m coming to join you soon