Together (short story

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    written by Serah Iyare (The author of Bukky) You can easily buy any of her numerous stories simply by sending her a mail

    When love found them, their bliss was unimaginable.
    The flood of life rose against them, rocking the boat of their union.
    Separation became inevitable.

    Episode 1

    He opened his eyes. What woke him up? He felt the cool air circulated by the air-conditioner. The electricity was back. There had been light off for two days straight. The agent that helped him to get the place convinced him that there was hardly light off in Bariga. It was a big lie. The reverse was was the case. He had to buy a medium size generator. As an I.T consultant for four major firms, he needed constant power supply.

    The knocks on the door filtered into his ears. Aha! That was what woke him up. He pulled his weight up, got down from the bed and strode to the door in his blue checkered boxers.

    He turned the key, grabbed the door-knob and pulled. The yellow bulb dangling from the roof illuminated the veranda. He saw his six feet tall, light skinned, broad shouldered neighbour standing at the doorway. He had a distressed look on his face.

    “Kalu, what’s up?” he stiffened a yawn.

    “Things are not up at all. Everything is down.”

    Timothy leaned against the door and eyed him.

    “I have not eaten all day. The firms I liase with, none have contacted me in the last two weeks. I am so broke, the landlord is also breathing down my neck.”

    He raised an eyebrow, “Are you owing him rent?”

    “No. I haven’t paid the electrical, water and security bills for this month.”

    “Oh,” he folded his arms across his thick bare chest.

    “I will be forever grateful to you if you can lend me some money.”

    He eyed him.

    “Even if it is ten thousand naira.”

    “Hey! Where will I get that kind of money?”

    “Okay, seven thousand. I will give you back as soon as possible,” he pleaded.

    He began to shake his head.

    “Timothy abeg now. You know we run the same kind of business.”

    “Exactly!” he pointed at him, “You need to organize yourself. Learn to manage your funds while you await the next job.”

    “I know, I know. I am trying.”

    “I can assist you with five thousand naira.”

    He grinned with gratitude.

    “I want my money back asap,” he pulled the tip of his ear.

    “No wahala.”

    He sighed and went in.

    Light brown skin, five feet eight inches tall, brown eyed, pear-shaped Osayuwamwen pulled the door knob and went into the dark room. She closed the door and pressed the switch. The bulb hanging from the ceiling beside the fan came on, iluminating the twelve by fourteen inches room.

    She dropped her red hand bag on the bed and sat down. She kicked off her red peep-toe wet-look shoes, removed her ear-rings, necklace, wrist-watch and dropped them on the bedside drawer.

    The thought of taking her bath made her sigh with relief. She hoped that there would be no queue outside the bathroom which was shared by nothing less than thirteen people.

    It was a good thing that she moved out of her parents’ place two years ago. Over there, they also had just one toilet, bathroom and kitchen shared by over twenty-one people.

    She got out of her work clothes, wrapped her curvy frame in a long thick fabric, threw a brown towel on her shoulder, picked up her bucket and strode out in her white dunlop slippers.

    Osayuwamwen covered the half-pattern styled long brown and gold curly weave-on with an hair net and walked towards the bathroom which was at the back of the bungalow. She sighed with relief when she saw the door of the empty bathroom opened.

    She passed by the kitchen, noticed the landlord and his wife seated outside the unpainted building, eating from a bowl of corn. She greeted them and waved at the women in the kitchen.

    Ngozi, a mother of three girls in their early twenties was seated by her cooking pot. Her girls were cutting vegetables and breaking melon seeds. She waved back at her.

    Kemi, a mother of three boys under the age of ten waved back at her. Her eldest son was washing the dishes while the younger ones were seated close to their mother, staring at the pot.

    She couldn’t imagine how they faired. Father, mother and children, cramped in the small room. She shook the thought away and went into the bathroom. She placed her bucket under the tap, turned it on and shut the door.

    She stepped out of the bathroom dripping wet, holding her towel and bucket. Two of her neighbours queued at the door.

    “Good evening,” she smiled at them.

    “Evening,” they chorused.

    She started to walk away. Timothy dropped his bucket and followed her.

    “How was work?”

    “Tiring,” she glanced at him.

    “I can imagine.”

    “Working in Gbagada and living in Bariga is a nightmare.”

    “I concur.”

    “Maybe I will feel better when I buy a car.”

    Wide dark eyes, “Cash madam!”

    She started to laugh. He was the closest person to her in the compound. He was God-fearing, friendly, kind and had an healthy dose of humour. He was also good looking, the kind of guy she wouldn’t think twice about dating.

    She wasn’t sure if he was in a relationship, unlike Kalu who changed women like baby diapers. His affairs never exceeded three months. He was an incorrigible womaniser.

    She liked Timothy. She wondered if he had any feelings for her. She hoped he did. She turned and met his gentle, dark intent stare.


    #1127751 Reply
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    #1127763 Reply
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    #1127766 Reply
    Jos Andy
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    Ride on
    We gat ur back

    #1127771 Reply
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    am here

    #1127784 Reply
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    ride on

    #1127832 Reply
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    Nice start

    #1127839 Reply
    • "Posts"623
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    Oya next….. Seated

Viewing 8 posts - 1 through 8 (of 104 total)
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