What to do...What to do

A short story by Zino Asalor

I thought about all the things she had said and done, the sharp retorts to every comment I had made, how she hid food in the kitchen cabinet when I got home from work. My mind raced through it all and unsure of what else to do, I sighed. Who would ever imagine that it was the same Erezi who used to scream at the top her voice, threatening to set my clothes ablaze and the same girl who was almost in tears, pleading with her eyes, telling me of how in love she was? Who would have thought this possible?

* **

I had just moved to Lagos after getting a job as an accountant with Terragon Ventures, a small publishing house in Maryland. I was to stay with my friend Tobore, who I’d met when we served together during our NYSC days in Bauchi State, two years ago. That was when I first saw Erezi, his little sister and last child of the family, who I was to find out was not so little after all. At twenty-three, Erezi had the looks of a fashion model, slim but not thin, nice curves and big brown eyes with the kind of stare that reeked of confidence and just a touch of arrogance that comes naturally with girls who know they’re pretty. She was a part-three philosophy student at the University Of Lagos and an active member in a few drama and creative writing groups. From the little I saw on that first day, she had already begun to show signs of being a radical thinker; one who did not see why men should assume any sort of superiority over women. A feminist, and I had a strong conviction that there were only two kinds: The ones who wear old raggedy looking dread locks, psycho-babbling about the skewed history of the man-woman relationship, speaking against domestic violence and there were also the beautiful ones who deliberately, as a result of their male-bashing ways, made themselves unavailable to most men; they too also had strong words against domestic violence and so on. Erezi was of the latter group.

“You females are so funny,” I used to tease her. “Always fighting where there is no need for battle”. And she would glare and call me sexist, chauvinist and all those other big-big words that always seem to end with “ist.”

I remember the very first night of my arrival, Erezi made it clear that there would be no waking her in the middle of the night to whip up late night meals should either Tobore or I choose to return home drunk from a party and no automatic cleaning of rooms or arranging of unmade beds.

“Haba, Erezi! A fine girl like you will not help her brother clean the house?” I asked emphasizing the ‘fine girl’; a cheesy line that used to work so well, back in university.

“Hmmph, story!” she scoffed, her bottom lip protruding out. “If he wants a house-girl, does he not know where to get one from? I’m not like those girls he brings home on weekends to cook and wash his clothes o!”

I could already imagine all the arguments they had had from their childhood till now. The girl was a firebrand and I would have to tread lightly with her if not for anything, at least for the sake of world peace, like Tobore himself used to say.

My first month was rather uneventful as I made a conscious effort to lay low and stay out trouble. My “Good mornings” and “Good evenings” were always said with my best accent and even the jokes we shared, well thought-out beforehand to make sure Erezi was not offended. I usually headed out early for work and came back quietly, putting my best foot forward as they say. Even when myself and Tobore would go out for drinks in the evening, I ensured we returned home on time so as not to be seen as fanning the flames of irresponsibility his sister had earlier hinted at. I was after all their guest and intended to be a good one throughout my stay there. On the work front, I was also enjoying my new job, planning to save up so I could get my own place; maybe a one-bedroom or even a two-bedroom flat if I stayed prudent for the next three or four months. Little did I know that when you avoid trouble it comes knocking harder and with a vengeance.

The drama began on a Friday, two months after, when I got home from work. My boss, Mr. Owolabi had kept me late, working on one of the accounts my predecessor failed to balance before the unfortunate event of his sack. I concluded my tasks at about 8pm and left. By the time I got to the gate of the house, it was 9pm; I was exhausted, hungry and confused. Confusion arose from the fact that I didn’t know whether to get in and jump on my bed straight away or re-heat the leftover chicken wings which I had bought yesterday from a Chicken Republic eatery at Maryland Junction, before dozing off.

Moving towards the entrance to the house, I was still deliberating on which to do when I noticed an unfamiliar pair of male shoes by the front door foot mat. It looked especially strange because it was a bit worn-out, which was definitely not Tobore’s style; it also had that weird reddish colour that road side shoemakers use, many a time, in corrupting a perfectly brown shoe. I stood for a minute, wondering who was in the house. For sure, it couldn’t be a friend of Tobore’s because he had called me earlier while I was at work, shouting over music blaring from the loudspeakers of a bar somewhere, to say that he was out for after-work drinks with some of his colleagues and not to expect him back until about 11pm. Knowing Tobore and his usual Friday night movement, his 11pm would be extended by another four hours to allow jumping from club to club, with him staggering back home around 3 or even 4am! So, who could be inside? There was only one way to find out, I gently turned the knob and the door clicked open.

The first thing I noticed was the living room engulfed in darkness. If not for the light in the kitchen which crept under the kitchen door, illuminating the room a bit, the whole place would have been pitch black. I heard what seemed like hushed voices then shuffling of feet and rustling of clothes coming from the direction of the couch.

 
“WHO IS THERE? WHO IS THAT?” Erezi’s voice came thundering, a mixture of anger and something that sounded like fear.

It dawned on me in that instant that I may have just walked in on a smooching session or maybe even worse. My feet froze in a spot, refusing to move as if I was back in primary school in one of those freeze dance competitions and the music had just been switched off. I willed myself to disappear in a cloud of smoke and reappear somewhere else, anywhere would do, even my office.

“It’s me….Onome” I answered weakly like someone who had obviously contemplated using a fake name.

“Who is he, dear?” A deep voice asked, probably the owner of the red shoes.

“Mscheew, he’s my brother’s friend, jor,” Erezi made no attempt to mask her irritation.

A minute passed with what seemed like them arranging their clothing while I stood there feeling totally embarrassed yet grateful for the cover of darkness. It reminded me of the time my mother caught me and our neighbour’s daughter, Tochi fondling each other at the backyard. She shouted at us, then turned away ashamed as if it was her breast that was partially exposed and not Tochi’s.

‘God Forbid, I had walked in and seen Erezi naked.’ I thought to myself. ‘Ah! I was not ready for that one o!’

The lights finally came on and I glanced quickly in the direction of the switch. Lo and behold, I saw Erezi, squinting from the sudden intensity of the fluorescent light, clad in one of those T-shirt-looking night gowns that girls wear, her hair ruffled just a bit and breasts straining the fabric, young, full and proud. ‘Feminist breasts’, I thought. ‘They were declaring their right to be independent and daring anyone to argue with them.’

I scanned her like a computer checking for “spyware” and any other signs of their passion. By the time I got to her face it was already squeezed in her signature frown.

“I was not expecting you back so soon,” she spat out as if the very sight of me caused a bitter taste in her mouth. “Tobore phoned that…”
“Yes, that he was going out with some work friends,” I completed. “He called me too. I had some extra work at the office that was why I hadn’t come back since.”

“Ahem,” Mr. Red Shoe cleared his throat. Erezi took cue and moved in to introduce us. “Onome, meet my boyfriend, Hilary; Hilary, this is Onome, I told you about. My brother’s friend.”

“Hello, how do you do?” His deep voice rolled out like a truck loaded full of gravel.

I flashed over him with my eyes, studying his features. He was light complexioned and almost red like his shoes, lots of hair on his face and a huge pot belly that gathered in folds as he sat down. He was not handsome but not ugly either.

‘But wait, Hilary??’ I thought. ‘Was I hearing correctly? What kind of name was that, for a man for that matter?’ At that moment, Hilary reached out for a handshake.

“I’m fine, thanks,” I said, nodding and reaching out to meet his outstretched hand halfway. “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything o”, knowing full well that I had.

“Not at all, we had just been gisting for hours and forgot to switch the lights on when everywhere began to get dark.”

He was lying through his teeth, his eyes darting back and forth between Erezi and me.

“Story,” I thought, laughing in my mind. “No problem, it’s nice to meet you, Hilary. Anyway, let me excuse myself and head to bed. I’m extremely tired; you know, hard day at work.”

“It’s alright”; a plastered smile, fixed on his face. “I was just about to leave anyway, hope to meet you again some other time”. I didn’t believe him. They would probably go and continue, whatever it is they were doing, outside.

“Same here,” I replied, then I left, walking briskly upstairs.

No sooner than I closed the door, I took in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. ‘O boy see me see trouble! Who would have ever thought that Erezi, a whole Erezi, wey dey raise shoulder pass anybody, would be having boyfriend and even worse bringing them home for late night action?? Wonders shall never end! That one nor even be boy sef, with the kain hair wey dey him face plus that bellé, she suppose talk say na her man friend.’

Then it hit me, like raindrops, one drop then another and another. This was not just about me catching Erezi with her pants down ‘O boy make I nor even think go that side.’

What was I going to do about Tobore? When he comes back home, do I tell him of what just happened or wait till tomorrow after he would have recovered from his usual hangover? I shuffled around the room, nodding intermittently as if agreeing with some silent advice from God.

The whole scene played in my head again; the darkness, the uncomfortable mumbling as they struggled to sit properly on the couch. It was like the slow-motion replay of a football match; going over his hairy face, her frown, her breasts with nipples hard, pointing at me like a finger warning not to speak a word of what I had just seen. Thinking of her breasts at a time like this was like pouring fuel on the flames of an already obvious dilemma, I shook my head, scattering the images.

‘If I tell Tobore, e go crase for this house, that boy would lose his temper and only God knows what would happen. On the other hand, if I keep my mouth shut this girl might do this again and if Tobore finds out next time, it would definitely come out that I had known about this before. Our friendship could be ruined!’

What do I do? What do I do?’ I broke into a small chant.

Then a loud knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.

‘GOD, Tobore has returned! Of all days, he chose today to come from the club early, eh? What if he takes one look at me and knows I’m hiding something from him?’ I took the bottom of my shirt in my hand and shook it vigorously, as if my fear were little ants hiding between the threads. ‘I must focus and remain calm. Get yourself together, Onome,’ I said sternly in my mind, psyching myself up for the next ten minutes of my life. ‘Talk about normal stuff, you know…beer and girls.’ So I went towards the door already pouring out my practiced laugh as I opened it.

“O boy, u don come back? How many bottles….?”

To my surprise it was Erezi, on her face an expression of guilt, shame and something else. I’m not sure if I felt relief from the fact that it was not Tobore or shock that it was his sister but I just stood there, mute, looking at her like a man who had suddenly forgotten how to use his tongue.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in? I would like to talk with you.”

“Yeah, yeah…of…of….course, come in,” I stammered and waved her in.

She took a few steps inside while I closed the door and when I turned around we were face to face, almost chest to breast. Even a rat would have found it difficult to crawl through the space between my feet and hers.

“I want us to talk about what just happened,” her lips let go of the words one by one like someone counting one, two three….; then tightened in a pout.

The guilt and shame seemed to be clearing from her face and it was a bit annoying seeing her so calm and confident. ‘If she thinks, after being caught in the act she can simply stroll in here and intimidate me into keeping this secret, then she’s dreaming.’ The decision whether or not to keep this from Tobore was mine to make; on my own terms not through manipulation. Knowing what she didn’t want to hear, I decided to say it nevertheless.

“Erezi, see eh, what has happened has happened but the truth of this matter is...”

“There is no truth of the matter!” She cried, interrupting me. “I know what you’re thinking of doing but please don’t, there is nothing to gain by telling Tobore.”

“Listen, it’s not about gaining or losing. Tobore is my friend and you are his sister. Imagine how he’d feel if he somehow found out. It would be as if I betrayed him by not saying anything. Does he even know you have a boyfriend?”

“No, he doesn’t,” her eyes pleading with me to keep it that way.

“Then maybe it’s time you told him, after all you’re not a child. Girls younger than you are doing worse. Besides since when are you are afraid of Tobore? It is me who should be worried because of our friendship.”

“I can never tell him this one.” Her eyes seemed moist. “I know Tobo, he won’t understand”, then she looked down shaking her head continuously, maybe forcing the tears back in.

“Ok, see,” I said, asserting myself. “I’m not trying to spoil anybody’s love or anything; neither do I want to get you in trouble with your brother. It’s not as if I’ve decided to tell him so why don’t we all sleep on this and talk more tomorrow, ok?” I was gesticulating, the way Mr. Owolabi did when negotiating with contractors.

“Alright,” now smiling, she made her way towards the door then in a flash she sneaked behind me and slipped her arms under my shirt “Though, I already know you won’t tell him, you can’t tell him.” She let out what sounded like a giggle.

I stiffened. Her touch was not unpleasant, not by any means but it was unnecessary, she was talking this manipulation thing too far.
“Erezi, what are you doing?”

Her left hand had made its way up my chest and she ran fingers through the mat of hair “I’m doing what you should have done a long time ago.” Her voice was so husky it seemed she was someone else.

‘Is this a game or is this girl possessed?’ Words ran through my mind as I turned away and wriggled free of her hold. ‘I had just seen her with her man-friend barely thirty minutes ago and now she’s going on about what I should have done?’

“Erezi, wait, wait…what is happening to you,” I asked, raising my voice in exasperation. “We’ve not even finished talking about you and…”
“Hilary is nothing, nobody.” She stared straight into my eyes. “He’s not even my boyfriend”

“WHAT??” I shouted in shock, leaning over to study her face, as if the truth may have somehow taken cover in the whites of her eyes. These philosophy people know all about white and black lies. “So, who is he, your sugar daddy?”

Her hands moved again but this time to stroke my face. “No”; she said with a smile, the kind that adults give children who made foolish yet cute jokes. “He’s my friend from drama club. He looks old because he got into school late. I’d told him about you…about my...my feelings for you and he suggested I make you jealous.”

I could not believe what I was hearing.

She continued. “He said jealousy is an emergency key to a man’s heart and that sometimes when a man sees a girl in the arms of another man, only then does he come to terms with his true feelings for her. So we planned everything, we waited for two hours till you got home, when we heard you come in through the gate; we switched off the light and pretended to be kissing. We were just acting, my dear.”

I stepped back, pushed by the force of everything she had said. Too many things were happening all at once. I wasn’t going to stand for this game. She had gone too far.

Erezi then bent over and took the bottom of her night gown in her hands, gathering the loose fabric in the clenched fists, making it tight around her body. I sucked in air. She began slowly lifting it up, past her thighs…higher, then she stopped at the curve of her hips almost where her legs met each other. She lifted her gaze and met mine, her confidence never wavered for a second; that expression I couldn’t read before was now clear, smearing her face like poorly applied mascara. I saw desire there burning every corner of her eyes, her lips parted like she was going to say something but no words came out. She just kept slowly dancing over me with those eyes. There was nothing philosophical about it, this was as real as it gets. Erezi didn’t look like the Erezi I had met three months ago; she was more beautiful, a new sensuality about her that wasn’t there before; more dangerous. A lump jumped about in my throat like a ball of Eba. I tried swallowing it but it simply refused to leave.

“Onome!” She called my name as if she owned it. “Please don’t think badly about me, I’ve never felt this carried away by a guy before. Since the day you walked into this house, something gave way and I fell in love.” She took one step towards me as she spoke. “I’m not scared to make the first move because I want you and it always seemed you never really noticed me but I saw the way you looked at me when I put on the living room lights. Now I know you want me too, don’t lie to yourself.” Her night gown seemed to be moving higher with every step, revealing more than my eyes should ever be allowed to see. I felt a familiar heat rise inside in my stomach.

She inched closer yet again. “It’s just me and you, what are you going to do? Or are you afraid of me?” she whispered, mocking me, daring me. Her left hand released the night gown, reaching for the light switch.

I should stop her; tell her to end this right now. This could be a game, a rehearsal for a role in her drama club. Whatever it was it was for her, for me it was madness. But the only sound I could make was from my nose, heavy breaths rushing in and out and the pounding of my heart beat like drums on the battle ground, filling the room, bouncing off the walls and converging back again at the entrance of my ears. Erezi, flicked off the switch, blanketing the room in darkness.

In the space of a few seconds I thought about everything. Pictures flashed by like a movie on fast forward. First, there was Mr. Owolabi congratulating me for a job well done, then Hilary laughing, his beard long like a he-goat’s, Tobore, guzzling a bottle of Star lager beer as we traded jokes from way back in Wailo camp, Bauchi; then my thoughts settled on the fair complexion of Erezi’s breast calling my hand, inviting me to strain it with my touch, her lips parted in silence yet saying everything, her pink tongue darting over it like a thief peeping through a window. Even from the shelter of my thoughts, I could hear the heaving of Erezi’s chest and something that sounded like her nightgown going over her head.

I felt the sweet burn of fiery fluid, coursing through my veins threatening to engulf everything, like a wave reaching a crescendo and about to descend in a splash, my will power helplessly trapped within it. Erezi took one final step. My thoughts were stuck in a rhythm of a chant, pounding time after time on only one thing.
- ‘What to do, what to do, what to do?’

* **

I woke up panting, drenched in sweat and what smelled like rain water. There was chaos everywhere as my neighbours ran around frantically, shouting and throwing buckets of water in a desperate attempt to douse the fire. It was all in vain, my one-room flat was completely consumed.

They later told me that my wife, Erezi had gathered my clothes in a bunch and set them on fire in the room, with me still sleeping inside. She then ran into the streets announcing to all who would listen that I was a useless man, a male chauvinist, among other insults, and that she had given me a taste of hell-on-earth, a flavor similar to the life of poverty in I had plunged her.

I took in the whole story and sighed again, wishing I could let it out. I had lost it all, my belongings, my wife, and my good friend Tobore. He had vowed never to speak to me again and didn’t even attend the wedding. I sat in a bar nearby staring at the charred remains of what used to be my flat, scratching my head, in between sips of Chelsea dry gin, my mind drifting back five years, to that room upstairs in Tobore’s house, to that night when Erezi seduced me with her hips.

I wondered how different life would have been. . .

THE END
 

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