Ruby's Search For Romance (A Nigerian Story)

Three

Ruby opened the door and walked into the house in blissful agony. Even though her heels ached from wearing tight shoes throughout the day, her face was feeling clunky with the layers of makeup she had on and the throbbing ache in her calves, she didn't feel as tired and grumpy as she'd imagined she would be when she left Boye's house in the morning.

As soon as she entered the business firm where she worked, everything about Boye had been forgotten. The month was quickly coming to an end and due to an increase in business scope earlier that month, the accounting department had been on their feet, reconciling old accounts with the new ones that had been created, running analysis.

Her excitement about work was because she had been chosen to present a report at the end-of-month meeting, a meeting which coincided with the midyear performance report. It was a breakthrough for her.

Despite being in the company for about four years, the status of the 'newbie' hadn't completely been taken away by the rigorous method with which she carried out her tasks. She was the youngest in the department and still bore the brunt of the smaller, miscellaneous tasks that lay around the office. Being able to make a presentation before the board was like an official ceremony, removing the 'newbie' tag from her name. After the meeting, she would be assigned a particular task depending on how well she'd performed.

Ruby couldn't help but sigh in disappointment at the realization that Rose was not home yet and there was no electric supply. While she rejected her offer to prepare a comfort meal for her, she still longed for Rose's food.

Rose was the cook between the both of them. While Ruby knew her way through ingredients and kitchen equipment, her food had a general feeling to it. It wasn't exceptionally tasty or colorful. It was just there.

On the other hand, Rose was a sucker for food aesthetics. It was a joke between them that if one day Rose loses her job, she would do extremely well in the food business. Rose's culinary skills were only second to Ruby's mother, she often said.

When Rose decided to cook, she cooked. And whatever she brought out of the kitchen, was picture-worthy and finger-licking delicious. It was no wonder that both their galleries were filled with either selfies or pictures of food taken from different angles.

Ruby contemplated switching on the generator as she took off her clothes and dressed in her home clothes. The light from the rechargeable lantern on her desk was enough for her to get on with, but there was an eerie silence in the house that made her feel uncomfortable. The feeling was dousing off the excitement she had been feeling and slowly unbidden thoughts of Boye started flooding her mind.

He hadn't called, she had confirmed earlier in the evening as she left the office. There were no missed calls, no texts. She tried to force herself not to feel disappointed, but she couldn't help it. Her mind went back to a conversation she had with him before.

The scent of sex was pungent in the room as they had just completed another round of sex.

"When do you want to get married?" The question came unbidden from that part of her that longed for stability, assurance.

He was quiet for a while, still breathing heavily, his arm thrown over his face, preventing her from fully observing his expression. "Marriage? It's too early to think about that."

"I know." She leaned up on her elbows and looked at him. "Like what do you feel about it? If you were to marry someday what type of girl would you pick?"

"Definitely not someone like you." It had come out casually but it rang with seriousness. He laughed and pulled her into a hug. "I mean I want someone a little softer than you."

She had covered up her hurt emotions with a snigger. "Who wants to even marry you."

The signs had always been there. To him, she could never be his girlfriend. He didn't even see her as a woman that could be a wife. Her eyes watered. This time, she didn't hold back the tears as they came flowing down her eyes. Why? Why? She kept on asking herself. Why didn't she leave him sooner? Why did she allow him to play with her that way? Why wasn't she strong enough to do the right thing sooner? Why...? Why...?

But you also enjoyed it, a small voice in her head whispered halting the descent of her tears and the moaning coughs that came out of her mouth.

Of course, she enjoyed it. She couldn't deny it. Before Boye, she'd only slept with two guys in her life. There was Buike, her boyfriend when she was in year one. The guy that had taken her virginity. She didn't have much memory of sex with him. Uti, whom she started dating when she went for her service in Benue had been more interested in his gratification than whether she enjoyed it or not.

With Boye, it was different. She could still remember the day their affair started. They had gone to a friend's birthday and had too much to drink. Boye's house was closer to the birthday venue so she had opted to spend the night with him. Getting home, when they had settled to go to sleep on the mouka foam that lay at the corner of his one-room apartment, Ruby dressed in one of his shirts, his hands began straying. The small touches, seemingly unintentional, sparked off intense need between her legs and set alight those emotions that she had suppressed when Boye and Rose announced their relationship.

It had been an intense night. Even the thought of it now still aroused her. Boye was quite a stud on the bed, twisting her body in ways she didn't think possible.

"Is it not okay?" she had to ask when it seemed he wanted to go for another round.

Thinking back to it now, she was tempted to think that Boye had aimed to train her to be his personal sexual vixen. When one of his girlfriends didn't satisfy him, she was his quick dial. She was the one that occupied his bed during the short intervals in between girlfriends.

"No, you are not the victim," she said aloud, stilling the part of her roaring up it's heard, pleading the part of the victim. And indeed she wasn't. She had only placed her honeypot in the wrong place and she could blame no one but herself for ignoring the writings on the wall.

Never again, she thought, standing up from the bed and wiping her face. Boye's regime in her life had ended. It was time to look forward to the next best thing.