I was stunned. Yewande. After how many years? I didn’t know whether to hug her or just be casual, even though my heart was running laps in my chest. It was like a door to my past had been flung open. The last time I saw this girl was the day I invited her to my dad’s birthday. I remembered the betrayal I felt that night; her voice over the phone when she called me to apologize during my service year and how I told her to never call me again. All that was more than five years ago and in one fell swoop, it all came back. All these thoughts flooded my mind for a few seconds before I came back to reality.
“Yewande…” I uttered.
“Dimeji…is it really you?” she said. Her eyes were wide as saucers. I didn’t know whether to hug her or play cool. I decided on the latter in order not to betray my feelings.
“Yewande…” The armless, plunging V-neck African print jumpsuit she wore adorned her beautiful curves. A sharp glint of light reflected off the pendant of her necklace and drew my eyes to the inviting bulge of her smooth cleavage. A nice shade of red stained her wet lips. I felt my heart strings tug.
“I see you guys have met. You did not even wait to be introduced,” I heard Iffy say as she walked up to where we stood near the table.
“Wait…you mean she’s your friend you wanted to introduce me to?” I asked in disbelief.
“DJ is the guy you were telling me about?” Yewande asked almost at the same time.
Iffy looked confused. “Dimeji? Yes, he’s the one I told you about. Do you know him?” She kept looking back and forth between the two of us.
“Of course, I know him…”
“Wait a minute, you said her name was Olaide…” I blurted.
“Yes, her name is Olaide,” Iffy replied. I turned to Yewande, who just smiled back.
“How do you know her?”
“We attended the same university back home in Nigeria. I was…she was like a sister to me,” I said.
“Ahh,” Iffy replied, her head nodding up and down with suspicious interest etched all over her face, “well then, it makes things easier for me. I’ll let you two catch up,” she smiled and left. I turned to Yewande.
“Olaide?” I asked, confused. Then it clicked. Her names was Olaide. Her middle name. I just didn’t remember because she seldom used it and everyone called her Yewande back home. I led her back to our table. I pull out a chair for her and she sat down ever so elegantly.
It was true. She oozed class. I won’t lie, I was slightly intimidated. This was a different Yewande from the one I knew so many years ago. She looked entirely different. Her aura portrayed more sophistication and style. She seemed more mature. I was tempted several times in the course of the night to caress her glowing skin, but I controlled myself. I did not know how she would react to me. Those old feelings I had buried long ago started to resurface.
Finally, the party began to wind down. Very satisfied guests started to leave. Yewande…Olaide…informed me she was calling it a night. I saw her off to the car park where an Uber ride waited. I opened the door for her.
“It was nice seeing you again Yewande,” I said.
She smiled, and memories flooded back again.
“It was nice seeing you again too Dimeji,” she responded.
I hesitated, then gave her a small hug. I felt the slightest of tenseness from her. I quickly took a step back and she got in.
“I hope to see you again sometimes…maybe catch up over coffee?”
She stared at me for a moment. “Maybe,” she responded. I closed the door and watched the glow of the tail-lights as the car drove out of the parking lot. It was only then did I realize that I hadn’t asked for her number.
A couple of days later, Iffy called me at work, demanding to know how it went with Olaide…Yetunde, I mean. I told her it went quite well. She kept pushing for more information, but I told her nothing out of the ordinary happened. I just explained that I knew her way back in university, and she was just a younger sister to me. She then asked me what I thought about her. I told her she did describe her perfectly, and she would make a good girlfriend for someone, but sadly that person was not me. Iffy yelled and hollered at me over the phone, saying she could not believe what I was telling her. She was literally carving an easy path to the girl’s heart for me, and here I was balking at the opportunity. I didn’t want to tell her about everything that had happened between us in the past, so I told her I was sorry, but not interested. I did not want to dwell on those memories any more than I already had in the past day or two. For the first time, Iffy cursed me out.
In all honesty, Yewande was the last person I expected to reappear from my past, and it threw me off balance a bit I must admit. She still had that cute baby face, but she seemed much more beautiful, refined, and poised. At least, those were the few things I could decipher in the few hours we spent at the party. She really did not talk much, only telling me she had been in Canada for about a year and was about halfway through her graduate program. Iffy was her Bodrum Escort course mate and they hung out together either in her parents’ house or mostly at her apartment. She did not tell me where she stayed, and I did not want to push for more information, being that we just met after such a long time.
The following weekend, Charles and I decided to play a round or two of tennis. We had this “bet” going on between us where we each bet a hundred dollars on a game of three. Whoever won two games would put the hundred dollars into the pot. At the end of the year, we would then share the combined amount equally, regardless of who put in more money. We had these games every other Saturday depending on our schedule. That Saturday, I drove over to his place to pick him up for the game. When I got to his door, tennis racket in hand and bag slung over my shoulder, he told me the girls were on their way. They wanted to join us in the game. I saw no problem with that arrangement.
About ten minutes later, we heard a car pull up outside and then a loud horn. I followed Charles out of the house and stopped briefly in my tracks. Behind the wheel of the gleaming Ford Explorer was Iffy. Sitting beside her in the passenger seat was none other than Yewande. Iffy yelled my name and waved frantically. I greeted her back, telling her she looked swell behind the wheel of her ride. I said hi to Yewande, and she responded with a smile and small nod. The two girls bundled themselves to the back and we guys took the front seats, with Charles driving.
We arrived at the club about an hour later. At first, we paired up with we boys against the girls. It was soon evident that they did not know how to play as much as we did. After a while, Iffy complained about us cheating, and suggested we paired up guy-girl. She switched places with me, and Yewande became my partner.
At first we lost two serves. Then I strictly began to target Iffy with the ball. Charles knew what I was trying to do, but each time Iffy, being the strong-headed girl she was, wanted to do it her way. I let Yewande have a go at her as well, and soon she began to loosen up and have fun. Each time she ran after the ball, I caught glimpse of her white boy shorts under the tennis skirt she had on. She moved elegantly, and after about an hour or so, we finally called it a game. Yewande and I had won by two games to one. She squealed in delight and gave me a hug, which caught me a bit by surprise. The way she jumped up and down as she hugged me, I almost saw that little girl of so many years ago. That brief body contact triggered my mind, and I wanted to hold her even closer. I quickly cleared my mind and dropped my hand which I realized I had rested on her lower back just above her skirt.
We decided to have a few drinks after we had freshened up, so we all headed to the bar. I was not much of a drinker, so I ordered a Corona. Charles got a few bottles of his Heineken, while the girls each took a Pink Lady. The alcohol loosened their tongues, and soon both girls were giggling. None of us had eaten anything since breakfast, so the effect of the drinks on empty stomachs was quite more pronounced. We ordered a few bites which we consumed with our drinks
Much later, we all called it a great day. I had to drive as I only drank one bottle in accordance to my strict policy to drinking. Charles had taken like five bottles. Iffy was smashed. She had drunk about three glasses of the stuff. The only other person who seemed a bit okay was Yewande. I could tell she was tipsy, but she was not out of sorts.
I finally pulled up to Charles’ place around seven. I deposited my gear into the trunk of my Lexus. I told Charles we would see at work. Iffy stumbled into the house. She was really drunk. I turned to Yewande, who stood there looking at her friend as she disappeared into the house. I asked her if she needed a ride home. She hesitated at first, then nodded. She dropped her gear on the back seat and hopped in beside me.
The drive was quite nice. I guess the alcohol made her relax, as she was much freer with me this time around. I glanced over at her profile as we chatted; her hair blowing gently in the breeze coming in the window, her slim arms, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, down to her smooth laps. I only gave her brief looks so as not to make her aware I was checking her out. She did really look good.
It took me about forty-five minutes to get to her place — a small community not far from a university (which she later told me was where she attended). She had fallen silent along the way, and I saw she had dozed off. I drove to the front of her building and parked at the entrance. I looked at her a few more moments, taking in her features again before I gently shook her. She started, and looked around before composing herself. She thanked me for the ride. For some reason, she did not get down immediately. Her hand lingered on the door handle. I reached over and patted her shoulder, and told her it was nice seeing her again. She smiled back at me. I hesitated a bit, and then Bodrum Escort Bayan with my heart in my mouth, I asked for her number. I told her I would like to meet up with her sometimes and catch up. She looked at me for a long time, without a smile nor frown. I was beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t have, but she then smiled briefly. She opened her hand, and I placed my phone in her palm. She dialled her digits, making sure it rang before handing the phone back to me.
“Call me some time,” she said. She grabbed hear gear from the back seat, smiled at me once more, before getting down and jogging up the stairs into her apartment complex.
I waited the customary two to three days before I called her. She was pleased to speak to me, and we chatted for some time. I asked her if she would like us to meet up somewhere, and she said yes. We met up at a café near her school.
That’s how we spent the next couple of months. Over that time, I found out this was a different Yewande from the one I knew in school, the one I took care of, the one who “betrayed” me for my brother. She was more matured, more thoughtful, and much calmer, but the playful one I had loved back then still lurked somewhere in there. She sometimes came along to the tennis games with Iffy, who seemed pleased to see us hanging out together. I always told her we were just friends and nothing more. But there were times when I wanted to touch her, caress her face, and I realized those old feelings were beginning to re-emerge. I had to keep them in check; I did not want to betray my true emotions. Even though many years had passed, it was still Yewande – the same Yewande who betrayed me so many years ago. Several times I could feel her disappointment whenever I wanted to touch her, to hold her and I pulled away. I know she wanted me to, and it pained her to see me hesitate.
One night, things came to a head. I had invited her to dinner at an expensive restaurant that evening. Why I decided to still amazes me till today. Maybe I was just trying to impress her, maybe I wanted to see how she still felt about me, maybe I just wanted to see her glow, which she did. She looked exceptionally beautiful and elegant in her simple black dress that evening, and I was sorely tempted to take her in my arms and kiss her.
The dinner went very well. She was clearly impressed. She fit right in to the environment. Our conversation flowed easily over dinner. The look in her eyes told me a lot that night; she was happy to be with me again. She took a few pictures of us on her phone, and I could see the happiness written on her face. For the first time, that little girl I loved came out.
We walked to the car after dinner, and when we got there, she turned to me. I knew she expected me to take her in my arms and kiss her, I could see that clearly in her eyes. My hand left her side and caressed her face. I traced her delicate jawline with my fingers. God knows I wanted to kiss her that night, but that image kept playing in my mind. She sensed my hesitation and just like that, the moment passed.
“Seven years, and you still haven’t forgiven me,” she said sadly.
“I’m sorry,” I replied. I opened the door for her and she got in.
The drive to her place was full of silence. I tried to lighten the mood, but she just stared out of the window at the passing buildings. I eventually gave up and faced the road. We pulled up at the entrance of her building some time later.
“Thanks for taking me to dinner,” she said and opened the door.
“Yewande…”, but she had already got out and shut the door. I stared after her as she walked up the driveway and entered the house without once looking back.
I did not see her for the next three weeks. I called several times, but each time her phone went straight to voicemail. Her status and profile picture disappeared from her WhatsApp and I knew she had blocked me. I decided to give her time to come around, if she ever did decide to.
Then very early one Sunday morning, she reappeared. The insistent ringing of the doorbell woke me up. Who could possibly be at my door this early? It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet. I tried to ignore it, but the persistent ringing finally got on my nerves. I jumped out of bed, cursing under my breath with a vow to give whoever it was a piece of my mind.
I peered through the peephole and the sleep immediately cleared from my eyes. I unlocked the door, and Yewande in her grey Hello Kitty sweat shirt and pants barged past me without a single word. Her hair was dishevelled and I could detect a strong whiff of alcohol as she walked past me into the living room. She stood in the middle of the room, and after looking around for a few seconds, turned to face me. Her face was a mess. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she wobbled a bit. Clearly, she was drunk. It was unlike her to drink, and that was the first time I ever saw her plastered like she was.
“Yewande,” I started in surprise, “Wha-what’s wrong? You’ve been drinking! When did you start getting drunk like this?”
“Y-you made me like Escort Bodrum thish,” she said, her body swaying a bit from side to side. I quickly moved forward and grabbed her before she tripped over the table in her path.
“Yewande, why?”
She started crying. “Why are…you are so mean to me…” She began to heave and hurl, and I quickly led her to the bathroom. At the door she retched, and the entire contents of her stomach came gushing out of her mouth with explosive force. The strong reek of alcohol permeated the air. She fell to her knees and bent over the toilet bowl. Tears, snot and vomit spilled out of her eyes, nose and mouth. I rubbed her back gently as she puked her guts out in forceful eruptions. She finally exhausted herself and collapsed beside the toilet, a grimace of pain on her face. I lifted her up and pulled her to the sink, where she rinsed her mouth out with mouthwash and washed her face. Her sweatshirt was soaked with vomit. She looked a mess.
“How much have you been drinking?” I asked. I flushed the toilet and pushed her gently out to the sitting room. “And why were you drinking in the first place?”
“You caushed all of it…I don’t drink a lot…you caushed it…”
I heaved a sigh. “You clearly cannot hold your alcohol. How much did you drink?”
“Two bottlesh.”
“Of what?”
“Shtella Rosha Pink(Stella Rosa Pink)…”
“And you’re smashed like this?”
“Lee-me joor…” I helped her pull the soaked and smelly sweatshirt off her. She only had a simple camisole underneath. Her breasts jutted out invitingly and bulged against the fabric. Her nipples threatened to poke holes in the cloth. My hands itched in eagerness, but I controlled them and kept them in place.
“Are you feeling better? Is your stomach now stable?” I asked.
She nodded slowly, and grimaced. She could hardly stand, and I had to catch her again as she almost toppled over. I half carried, half dragged her to the spare bedroom. She lay on the bed and I covered her up with the duvet.
“Try and get some sleep. We will talk when you are in a better state.”
She looked up at me with her blurred gaze. Her eyes drooped a bit and she tried to get them to focus. I smoothened away a lock of hair that had covered her face.
“Don’t leave me…” she murmured, her eyes slowly closing.
My heart skipped a beat. “Rest a bit,” I said and left the room.
——————–
After I tucked her in, I tried to go back to sleep but found that I could not. I laid in bed staring at my phone for about an hour before I got up at around eight.
Over the course of the morning and early afternoon I checked in on her, but she slept soundly and did not stir. I guess she was very exhausted. I watched a few soccer matches, ate, washed and dried her soiled sweatshirt, and at some point, drove to the grocery store to pick a few things. It was not until around four o’clock that I heard the door to the room she was in slowly open. I was settled in front of the TV with my laptop within reach, and I peered over my shoulder as she padded her way to the sitting room. Her hair was strewn all over the place, and her eyes were worn and bloodshot. At least she was stable on her feet.
“Welcome back from the land of the dead-drunk,” I teased her.
She just murmured and plopped herself down on the second sofa adjacent to me.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Like shit…” she replied woozily.
I laughed at her response, to which she glared at me. “Are you down for some food? I prepared something for you.”
“I don’t think my tummy can hold any food right now.”
“Okay, at least drink something.” I got up and went to the fridge to pour her a glass of grape juice. I brought along some pain killers for the headache I was sure she suffered from. She swallowed the pills and drank from the glass.
“So what possessed you to drink that much? It’s unlike you,” I asked.
Yewande rubbed her temple. She was clearly hung over.
“I’ll get you something to eat. It will help with your headache.”
“I’m not hungry…”
“Yewande,” I towered over her, “you have to eat, even if it’s a little. You drank on an empty stomach. That is bad. You need some food in your system.”
She just groaned and leaned back. I walked to the kitchen and warmed some of the spaghetti and shrimp sauce I had prepared earlier in the day. I brought it to her and set it on the stool beside her.
“Eat.”
She peered at the food, sniffed it a bit, and took a few bites. I returned to my seat and watched her as she slowly ate. She finally pushed the empty plate away. I smiled at her.
“So, you did finish it eventually.”
She just muttered, and I laughed and focused my attention on the TV. For the next ten or so minutes, we did not say anything. I finally decided to ask her what was on my mind.
“What possessed you to do that to yourself Yewande?” I asked.
She had laid her head on the back of the sofa, and her attention was on the TV screen. She stared at me like she had no idea what I was talking about. I waited for her to respond, but when it was not forthcoming, I turned back to what I was doing. I was not going to force anything out of her, I told myself. She’s the one who came back. When she’s ready she’ll talk. Another half hour went by before she finally sat up.