BY MYRA HEARTWORD
What is love? And when you find it, how do you know? “Salewa’s Love Quest” is a story of Salewa, a Nigerian American, who has always been skeptical about true love. She always thought it to be nothing but empty myths of great legends, fairytales, and Hollywood movies. But now she is not so sure. Could it be true? Has she found love? Join her as her heart takes a whirlwind of adventures, channeling the seas of family and cultural expectations. Will she find love?
I see tears and try to hold my composure. Moyin’s mascara is running down her face, and Bisi is sniffling and snorting. Both crying and laughing up a massive storm. They can’t control themselves.
“Gosh, please catch your breath, guys. Don’t pass out.” I lower my head, giggling within.
Even my dear uncle is laughing like a tickled hyena. Great, maybe I shouldn’t have told them or better yet, left out some detail? A part of me wanted to hide. Just great… they will hold this over my head for a long time. I can just picture it now… Remember when you dressed like a pauper before a king? Or remember when you were so smitten by Ebony Art you could not speak? Remember…? Remember…? Yeah, I should have left the details out for sure.
“So…” she inhales, “so let me get this straight. He is Ebony Art, and you forgot you’re a fan?” Bisi snorts.
“He must have used some love Juju on you.” Uncle exclaimed in between laughs.
“Wow, that serious, huh? Was he really that strikingly handsome?” Moyin wipes her tears, struggling to get control of her laughter.
“I guess… look, I don’t know!” I shrug, “I just froze mentally, you know?”
“No!” Moyin’s eyes roll. “I don’t know.”
“No, no, no… I must see this masterpiece that left you speechless. I mean, you’re not one to impress so easily, Salewa.” Bisi breathes deeply, using a napkin to tap away the tears. “I have to look him up.” She pulls out her phone.
“I don’t think that’s possible. I have never seen his face on social media, his website, or articles. Wait, hold on.” I look through my purse. “Yes, there it is. He gave me this.”
Moyin snatches the business card from my hand before I could blink. She holds it for a second, eagerly observing it like a lost treasure. Then her face twists into something baffling. I have only witnessed this expression when she loses ground to one of her many petty rivals. So why is her face like this now?
I can tell Bisi witnessed the sudden change in expression, too. “Let me see!” She grabs it from Moyin. Flipping the card over, Bisi’s face morphs into that of surprise. “Wow… Oh my GOD!!! Have you seen this?”
“What is it?” Like seriously, what am I missing?
Bisi flips it over, it reads, “May I please have the pleasure of taking you out on a date? If so, please call me. My heart will be eagerly waiting for your response.”
My mouth drops and stays there for a while, wide open. Bisi giggles as she tries to shut it, her right hand cupping my chin. “Yes, believe it,” she cheers, “you lucky girl.”
Moyin now sits still, her back against the seat, and arms folded. Her face is devoid of happiness and serious, her eyes hinting something unsettling. Jealousy?
“This is my stop.” Her tone was bitter. She quickly gets out of the car and slams the door.
Bisi eyes Moyin hissing. “Don’t pay any mind to her. She is just jealous. Yes, just jelly. You know her.”
To be honest, no… she has never acted like this towards me. Me? I mean… I have seen her treat others like this, even Bisi on occasions, but never me. These thoughts were distasteful and unsettling somehow. Why now?
My uncle lowers the passenger window and yells after Moyin “Onilara, abinu eni!!! Ah ah, no Respect! No thank you?” His question followed by silence. Did she completely ignore him? Wow!
He rolls up the window, steaming with frustration. “These children of today…”
Quickly damage control! “My wonderful uncle, did I ever tell you how much we appreciate you? Uncle, thank you so much for taking time to pick us up.”
With delightful pride, he turns to face Bisi and I. “Oh it is my pleasure, my dear,” he utters with a gleeful smile.
“Yeah, thank you so much daddy!” Bisi chimes in.
Yes, recognition and flattery usually work on uncle. Man… right now, anything we can do to soften the blow Moyin just threw. That girl must be out of her mind.
Uncle winks at his daughter, then looks straight at me. “So, are you going to call him?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Call him Salewa. I mean, what could happen? It seems to me you have already made quite a first impression. And if he can see through that, then maybe he is worth giving a chance.” He turns back to face the road and starts the car. “Oh, please don’t tell your mom I’m giving you relationship advice. Please, I don’t want any trouble oo!”
“Of course not.” I look at Bisi, concern in my eyes. He was the one I should worry about. From what I have learned over the years, he blabs too much, just like his wife.
Oh, no, why did I let him in on this news? “Uncle please… Just don’t tell anyone, OK?”
“If you call him tomorrow, I will keep my lips sealed, I promise.” He motions, zipping up his mouth with a wide grin. Not convincing at all. I am not buying it.
I glance at Bisi, my eyes pleading for help.
“Don’t look at me. I don’t control my dad. You should know better.” She whispers back, amused by it all.
“I will call him tomorrow. You promise, right uncle?”
“So… my sweet daughter. How was your girl’s night out?” My mother slowly walks in, her footsteps as light and quiet as that of a ninja. She comes in holding in one hand a cup of tea, the mug, a black and gold design, with a fitting title, “The Boss”. Yeah, the Boss, no knocking, no nothing. Just barging into my room again, at least knock mom! Let me not lie to you. This woman is a natural born detective. I fool myself to think I can hide anything from her all-seeing eyes and sharp ears. But gosh, I try, too stubborn to give in or give up, not that I ever really succeed. Right now, I can tell mommy smells gossip and is here to get the exclusive. She sits by me in bed as I continue to type away at my master’s Midterm Paper. I dare not look her directly in the face. The, I-heard-something-interesting-but-would-like-to-hear-it-from-you, vibe was heavy. Uh-oh, uncle talked… he must have.
“Have you talked to uncle lately?” I ask as I continue typing away.
“No, why?” She replies, taking a sip of her tea. I can feel her Nigerian eyes on me, peeling away to find the truth.
“I spoke to your auntie, though.”
“Oh… anything interesting?” I ask casually, still trying to remain cool.
“Not really?” she blows at her tea and takes a sip. “Well… anything exciting happen to you today?”
“My tax return came in, and now I have some extra cash to spend.” I say, still typing away. This usually excites her. We usually go shopping and eat out together. I am waiting for some type of response… waiting and waiting… it did not come. Shocking?
I stop typing and turn to face her. “Mom?”
“That’s wonderful”, her face saying otherwise as she sips her tea.
“Mom?”
“What is it, dear? Anything you want to tell me?”
I take a deep breath.
“Yes, my dear?” she states, urging me to say something.
“Ah ah… my dear wife, you have been here all this time? I have been looking for you, love. We need to talk.” Daddy’s deep voice rings as he walks into my room. Another one not knocking. What is it with people not knocking before entering? Oh, but his presence is welcome. Saved by Daddy, yeah!
“I thought I heard your voice?” He walks to his wife excitingly and embraces her.
Can you believe this woman remains calm and focused? Continuing to sip at her tea, with her eyes not leaving me?
“Oh…” I exhaled, turning back to face my laptop, trying to look busy again.
“My dear, congratulations… you’re going on a special date with a fine Nigerian man. About time!” Daddy cheered.
My hands freeze, putting a sudden halt to the tapping of the keyboard. I sit up straight, my eyes wide open. Shit… UNCLE! UNCLE! Why O!
“So… so… we have to find out from my brother’s wife? The queen of gossip? Eh?” Mommy’s voice was frighteningly calm and chilly. “Mm hmm… So… what do you have to say for yourself?” She waves her hands in the air. “Look at you! My daughter, you don’t have the decency to tell us… ehh…? Not even me… me your mother, who gave birth to you?” her voice rising with anger.
Oh, no… is this the calm before the storm? My eyes veer to Daddy. Wow, even he is in shock, as if he has accidentally opened up pandora’s box.
She suddenly jumps in the air, lively and filled with joy. What!! What is going on?
She takes to singing in Yoruba, dancing with her arms waving to the heavens. Don’t bother asking me what she is saying… I don’t know. But this is a good thing, yes, very good. So much better than the other possibility.
Daddy is as stunned as I am, but now dancing with her, joining in the chorus. WOW… JUST WOW!!
“Mom… mom! I have not called him yet.”
“My child, what are you waiting for? A sign from God? It has already come and gone, o! Abeg, you better do it right now now now. Aaah!” She holds her head, walking back and forth. “Daddy, did you hear your daughter? You better talk some sense into her.” Mommy grabs her cup from my nightstand, panting from all the dancing and singing, and walks out of the room.
Dad smiles. “You better listen to your mom. Ok!” He winks twice.
I burst into laughter and so does he. Oh, how gossip flies.
Now, there is no turning back. I must call him. Lord knows I have been avoiding this. Just thinking of it, my gut twists, and my heart flutters; not in a good way. Oh, I am nervous. I don’t think I can. What will I say? I mean… I mean, it’s Ebony Art!
Call… text… Call… text. In frustration, I tap my pen against my desk. Call him… No! what would I say? I mean, I might literally forget how to speak again. Text… yes… but what? Oh! My mind is running on fumes of exhaustion. I have played multiple scenarios of what could happen in my head, each not at all encouraging. I now stare at my cell phone, my heart beating the drum of doom… an overwhelming feeling of anxiety and impending failure continues to flood my senses. There is no way I will not butcher this. Oh… I need help. Before I knew it, I am calling Bisi. She’s the calmest and wisest of us. I am confident she will know what to do.
It rings once and she answers. “I knew it, already on my way. “
“What?”
“Just got off the phone with your mom. She said you might need some help. She can hear you talking to yourself and tapping violently on the desk like a drummer.”
“Oh, mommy”. You see what I mean? All-seeing eyes and sharp hearing.
“So, I will be there in 10 minutes.”
“Thanks so much.” Getting off the phone, peace washes over me. I stop tapping my pen and lay my head on my desk. Finally, a mental rest.
We are now sitting in my living room. We as in me, Bisi, and Moyin. Yes Moyin, I still can’t believe she brought Moyin. Well, right now, what can I do? I need to call Ebony Art.
“So?” Moyin probes, chewing on her gum.
Bisi clears her throat, “we are here to help you.”
“Yeah… So, you don’t make a fool of yourself again,” Moyin smirks
“Why is she here?” I look at Bisi.
“We are all friends here. Come on!” Bisi replies, no doubt trying to calm the mood. “And you’re in need, so naturally we want to help. So, tell us what you have done so far?”
“I have racked my brain and still nothing. I mean, I really don’t know how to move forward without my anxiety freaking out. You know it’s Ebony Art and I am… well, me.”
“Figures, an opportunity of a lifetime and nothing.” Moyin mocks.
Oooo… she’s slowly getting under my skin. What’s up with her? “What do you mean, opportunity?” My voice taking a harsh tone.
Moyin rolls her eyes, and I feel like reaching and plucking it out. “See, you see this, Bisi? Life can be so unfair. She doesn’t even try, and Ebony Art wants to date her. What a waste.” Moyin rants, she turns to face me, “Why go through with this, anyway? I mean, why even bother? He is not even your type.”
“Oh… but he is your type?” I snap. “Bisi, what the… what is she talking about? Tell her to come to her senses or I will smack her back to it! Who does she think she is talking to?”
“My Children!” Mommy happily walks in from the kitchen. “Come, come, I brought you a little something. And there is more. Please help yourself.” She walks in with a tray of snacks and drinks. As Moyin reaches for one, mommy pulls it away from her reach, her eyes vividly showing her disapproval with Moyin, “Onilara ati abinu eni” she hisses. “Petty and jealous Moyin!”
Moyin recoils as if caught red-handed. Her “Hello Ma”, tainted with guilt.
“Hello Ma,” Bisi stands to greet mommy.
“My daughter, how are you jare? How is your family?”
“Fine Ma, thank you.”
“Please, my daughter, sit and have some snacks. Thank you for helping Salewa.” She sets the tray before Bisi and winks at me. As she strolls back to the kitchen, she flashes Moyin deadly eyes. I cheer inside, watching Moyin look shocked and uncomfortable. I could not help but smile.
Bisi opens a bag of chips, munches away, then pauses. “Send him a text message saying …. Something like…”.
“I am so flattered by your interest in me. I don’t mind going on a date with you,” Moyin interjects.
“Thanks, Moyin,” Bisi shoots back. “Salewa, text it. I think it’s good.”
I text.
“But the last sentence does not feel right. Say something like I would love to go out with you,” Bisi suggests.
“Isn’t that being too desperate?” Moyin states.
“No… I like it. Saying I don’t mind… he can take it as I am not interested in you, but I will give you a chance, right?” I continue to text. And we were done, yes, finally done. I exhale, but now another wave of anxious butterflies rises. When will he respond? Will he respond? I try to relax.
“So, when he calls…”
“He will not call, trust me. I don’t think he is into you like that.” There goes Moyin again.
“If he is really into you, he will call, and I think he is.” Bisi flashed Moyin a warning stare, and takes another chip into her mouth, munching on with force as if to emphasize her warning.
My mind was too tired to play this game. “So, I should just wait now?”
“Yes,” Bisi says, now savoring the chips. Guess she’s enjoying the snack.
Moyin’s expression soon changes, and she looks at me with puppy eyes. “Can I have a snack also? I am so hungry,” she moans.
Oh, Moyin you got yourself into this mess. I offer her a bag of chips. She gobbles it down in an instant, now eyeing another snack on the tray.
“So, what should I say when he calls?” I ask.
“NOTHING!” they both assert.
“What? Why? What do you mean, nothing?”
“You’re not supposed to pick it up. You will let it go to voice mail and then send him a text message,” Bisi explains as she sips on some malt.
“But…?”
“You might freeze again, or say something stupid,” Moyin explains.
“Oh… ok.”
I wish I could just be completely honest with the guy; you know. Tell him I like you, but I am not sure what you see in me. And that, you make me so nervous that I don’t know what to do with myself. Why can’t I just tell him? I laughed inside. I can’t even speak well in front of him. What good would that do? All I know is this text this, wait this time, call, don’t call, wait for him to call stuff. Na wa o! I guess that’s what it takes.
An hour of torturous anticipation goes by and my phone rings, sending my feet to take flight. I couldn’t help it. I just feel so giddy, so excited. I answer the phone. I freeze, realizing what I have just done. Oh, no… what do I do now?
(To be continued)
You can read the last edition HERE
Myra Heartword, a SC-FI and creative writer, can be reached on myraheartword@gmail.com
Author’s Note: This story is entirely pure fiction. Any resemblance between the characters and real people is deeply regretted.
GODFREY TIMES
