Chapter 7
Arinola's wedding fell on the Saturday of the same week. And Bewaji had a slight problem on her hands: the tailor's shop was on the same street with Justice and his palaver. Even though she was properly disguised, she was still scared to go back to that neighborhood. So much for planning! How on earth would she get her dress from Baba Mufu without physically going to Bariga? The answer came knocking on her door that afternoon. Literally.
Seye, her brother knocked on her door while she was still debating what to do. He came to borrow a pen from her, something that happened fairly often. He was always borrowing something. As soon as she opened the door, she began to plead with him to do her a small favor: could he please pick up her dress from the tailor? Of course Seye's next question was: "Why can't you pick it up yourself?" Bewaji could not explain to him in detail why she was not able to do so, but she told him she just did not have the time to go there. Which was not true, and Seye did not buy her excuse. The only other option was to bribe him.
"Okay, I'll do your chores for two weeks. How about that?" Bewaji said, kicking herself for making such a raw deal with her brother. It was not like he did much around the house anyway. Thankfully, he agreed and said he would pick it up on his way back from school on Thursday.
Meanwhile, Bewaji tried to reach Seun to update him on her latest discovery, but all her efforts to reach him were in vain. E-mailing him was out of the question. He had specifically told her that Connie wanted to hear the details over the phone. So, she waited and waited for him to call her, but he never did. Bewaji began to worry.
On Thursday evening, she tried on her new outfit for the first time ever, and it fit perfectly. She was amazed at what Baba Mufu had put together within less than one week. The man was a professional. All that remained was for her to go to both weddings on Friday and Saturday. She had still not heard anything from Seun.
On Friday morning, she was about to go for Arin's traditional wedding, when her phone rang. She expected it to be Seun, but was sorely disappointed when she saw that it was her boss, Mr. Lawal, who was calling her. She had taken permission from him to attend this wedding. Why was he now calling her in the morning?
"Bewaji! Hello-o! Bewaji, are you there?" Mr. Lawal said half-shouting, half-yelling into the phone.
"Yes, sir. I am," she replied, trying to sound calm.
"I need you to come to the office right away. Mr. Ifeanyi's wife took to bed this morning, and he cannot come to work. I have to see a client in Makurdi this afternoon. So, you have to manage the office for the entire day."
Crap! Today of all days. Why had she even answered her phone?
"Alright, sir. I'll be there in an hour," Bewaji said reluctantly.
"I guess I should be grateful he did not pull this on me on the day of the white wedding," she grumbled to herself as she changed into her work clothes. So instead of going to feast and dance at Arin's traditional wedding, and possible score a few dates, she would be stuck at the office, answering calls and dealing with crazy clients. Life was just so unfair!
Fridays at the travel agency were known as "Trad Fridays." Employees were allowed to wear any modest traditional attire of their choice on those days. So, instead of the usual light colored blouse and dark colored skirt Bewaji usually wore to work, she chose a different outfit for that day. She wore a knee-length black pencil skirt and paired it with a blouse made from another Ankara fabric. Coincidentally, that fabric was the same as the one she had worn for her disguise as Iya Olu, but she felt sure that no one would recognize her because this was not iro and buba.
As soon as she arrived at the travel agency, Mr. Lawal left. Not quite long afterwards, a few customers came in to book domestic flights. That was around 11 o' clock. Afterwards, no one came in, but the phone kept ringing almost non-stop until 12 noon. Bewaji was about to take her lunch break when two people walked into the agency: a woman and a man. The woman led the way, while the man walked behind her. They both wore designer sunglasses. The woman wore a knee-length purple, halter dress and carried a large, yellow leather bag. Her shoes matched the bag. The man wore a navy blue polo shirt with a white collar on white trousers. His feet were clad in a pair of white sneakers. They both looked well put together. As the woman approached the desk where Bewaji sat, the man lingered near the entrance, still talking on the phone. She could not really see his face clearly from where she sat, but the shape of his head already told her what she needed to know: the man was none other than Justice, a.k.a Olu Ade.
At this point, Bewaji began to wonder if this man was not following her. Why did he pick this travel agency of all the hundreds in Lagos? And why on earth was he dressed so well? Wasn’t he a house boy? And most importantly, who was this woman with him? Bewaji did not have to wait long to get answers. The woman spoke:
"That's my boyfriend," she said, taking off her sunglasses and pointing at the man near the door who was still talking on the phone. "He's paying for my trip to the UK next month. What flights are available? Wait, do you guys accept dollars? He has dollars. Excuse me! Are you listening to me?" the woman began angrily. Bewaji had been using her eyes to multi-task and was certainly distracted. One eye was fixed on the person in front of her, while the other followed the man who was still standing by the door. She suddenly remembered the ankara fabric she was wearing and began to panic. What if he recognized her or the fabric, at least?
"S-o-r-r-y, Madam," Bewaji said apologetically, even though she felt sure that she was at least three years older than this woman.
"I said I need to book a flight to the UK next month. What flights are available?"
Bewaji began to search for available flights on her computer screen. Just then, Olu Ade got off the phone and began to approach the desk. Bewaji was really scared. In a last minute attempt to hide her face, she used her left hand to shield her face, and bent her head downwards, while her right hand moved the mouse.
"Honey, is she asleep? Excuse me, are you sleeping?" Olu Ade asked, hovering over Bewaji and trying to get a closer look at her face. Bewaji just ignored the rudeness behind the question and responded in the negative. How could someone who was working on the computer be sleeping at the same time? Rubbish!
Bewaji informed them of the available flights. After selecting an economy flight for the following month, it was time to pay. Bewaji still had her head bowed. Tilting her head away from their gaze, she told them that she needed some form of identification for both the payee and the passenger. It was part of their procedure, according to her. They both produced their ID cards and Bewaji took them and left briefly to make copies. Before she placed the cards on the photocopier's scan bed, she quickly looked at the identification cards. The woman's name was Bimpe Kolade, and the man's name, if she doubted it before, was Oluwole J. Towobola. The address on Olu Ade's ID card read:
22 Wemimo Street, Somolu, Lagos
Number 22? Where had she seen that before? Oh yes, one of the pictures Seun had sent her; the one where he was in front of a gate.
"Sir, is this your current address?" Bewaji asked him after making the copies.
"Ah, no … Actually, that was where I lived when I got my ID card. My current address is different. What do you need it for?" he said in a worried tone.
"In case we have to contact you, sir. Please provide your current address and phone number," Bewaji said. He did. It was the same address she had sort-of visited on Monday. She also made Bimpe, whom she had determined to be Olu's girlfriend, provide her contact information as well. Olu then paid for the flight in dollars. Yes, in dollars because the travel agency accepted that form of payment.
She told them they would have to come back to pick up the ticket. As they turned to leave, Olu Ade suddenly turned around and said:
"Your face looks familiar. Have I met you somewhere before?"
Bewaji, who had been dreading that question the whole time, replied:
"I get that a lot, sir. I think I have a very common face."
He smiled and walked away. Whether or not he believed her explanation was uncertain. After they left, Bewaji literally danced for joy. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. Now, she really needed to speak with Seun.
"I need to go and burn this ankara blouse. I can never wear it again!" Bewaji said as thought about the near-disaster that would have transpired if Olu had recognized her. It was not wise to tempt fate a third time.
* * *
The following day, Saturday was Arinola's white wedding ceremony. Bewaji had had to explain why she did not show up for the traditional wedding. But she knew Arin would not forgive her if she missed the church wedding.
Bewaji got up very early and arrived in church early. The ceremony went through without any hiccups. Arin was finally married to her sweetheart, Bosun. The reception was at an event hall not too far from the church.
As the couple danced into the hall, Bewaji along with the other guests who had been sitting down rose to their feet and cheered. The other ore iyawo dressed in various styles of the same aso-ebi were scattered all over the hall. Bewaji had forgotten to turn her phones back on after turning them off in church. It was not until the MC announced the couple's first dance that she realized that her phones were still off. She quickly turned them on, and as she did so, she saw that Seun had sent her several text messages. He had mistakenly dropped his phone in water and had to get a replacement handset. That was why she had not heard from him in almost a week.
She excused herself from the table where she sat and went outside to "flash" Seun. He called her back and she told him she had some news for him regarding the investigation. So, he put Connie on a three-way conference call, and the other two listened patiently as Bewaji relayed the details of Olu Ade's identity and who he was. When she got to the part where she found out that Olu Ade was not a primary school teacher, but was a house boy, there was dead silence on the phone. Bewaji continued and finally told them about Olu Ade's girlfriend, Bimpe.
"So, you see, he's been taking your money and using it to finance his own romance," Bewaji said quietly, addressing Connie. She could hear the woman sigh painfully and was afraid she was going to start crying on the phone. But Connie remained calm. At least now, as Bewaji reasoned, Connie knew the truth. What she did with that "truth" was totally up to her.
Both Seun and Connie thanked her. Then Connie left, leaving Bewaji to gist with Seun.
"Do you think Connie will still keep seeing Olu Ade?" Bewaji asked.
"You mean, Olu Towobola, or should I say, Justice. Ah, I don't think so. I mean, would you date a house boy?"
"God forbid. Maybe ignorance is bliss."
"I disagree. Only Connie was ignorant. Olu was not. He was fully aware that he was lying to her, and that's why she needed to know the truth."
"That's true."
"Anyway, I think you handled this well. I will definitely hire you for all my future investigations," Seun said, chuckling.
"Oh, no problem. I can assure you it will cost you a lot more than $ 300," Bewaji said, rolling her eyes. They both laughed.
By the time Bewaji returned to the hall, the aso-ebi ladies were taking pictures with the newly-married couple. As Bewaji planted herself into the picture, she could not help wondering at the mystery of life, for while one couple's story was just starting, another couple's story was about to end.
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About the Author
Sharon Abimbola Salu was born and raised in Lagos, Nigeria where she lived until she relocated to the United States of America. Her stories are mostly set in Nigeria, and she writes the kind of stories she would like to read. A professed lover of spicy foods, she loves experimenting with new recipes, to the dismay of non-spicy food lovers. Apart from writing, photography is her other hobby.
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