Anne: Lost in Transit

Chapter 11

I did not try to stop the ecstatic overwhelming emotions I was feeling, in fact, I deserved this new surge of happiness, reassuring myself as I entered the apartment with Ebere. The housing agent went before us to unlock all the rooms so we could do an inspection. After more than three months of searching, we finally found an apartment that suited our taste. The place was also central to anywhere I wanted to go in Benin so it was perfect for me and Ebere. Ebere was talking in whispers as he negotiated with the agent while I moved round inspecting everything so that we were not swindled like other agents tried to do.

I received a message from my sister as I walked into the kitchen. “We’re all fine, still trying to cope with the weather. The front of my office is filled with snow. I sent a picture of it to your WhatsApp. How are you? Have you got an apartment now?”

I replied. “Yes. And I'm standing in it! Ebere is here too, he also wants me to remind you of your promise to buy him a jet. Haha…ha. I hope you didn’t tell mummy about me and Ebere moving in together?”

“Of course not! Besides, you’re a graduate and old enough to decide what you want by yourself. House reveal now!” She followed it with at least ten excited emojis. “VC?” I dialed her number. ‘Wow! It’s really nice and there so much space. This is beautiful! Damn! That touchpad tap slaps. This your house na smart house o.’ I laughed mostly at her attempt to speak like a Canadian.

‘I know right?! But the place is expensive for just two-bedroom. The agent wants to cut our neck with price. Hm! I hope Ebere is using Igbotic wisdom to negotiate because—!’

‘Na wa! I wonder why Benin houses are expensive. Mtchw! Where’s Ebere?’

‘He’s still talking with the agent.’

‘Okay. Tell him I said hi. I’ll tell mummy you have found a house. We’ll continue this call another time, my boss just came in. Bye, love ya!’

‘Love you too.’ Ebere’s arms wrapped my waist pulling me closer to him and planting kisses on my neck.

   ‘Hm! You smell like roast chicken.’ He bit a side of my neck, I giggled as he bit it again. ‘And salad.’ He made loud chewing sounds with his mouth.

   ‘Stop it!’ I said trying to break his hold. ‘There’s someone in the house, behave!’

   ‘Why? You want privacy to…you know?’ He released me before I could bite his arm.

   ‘You’re not serious.’ I said as I walked to the living room. He followed me.

   ‘Was it your sister you were talking to?’

‘Yes. No worries, I told her not to tell my mum we moved in together.’

He leaned to a wall and crossed his arms. ‘Yeah! She’ll be mad. I hope she doesn’t spill. Your mum has a way of getting unyielding people to talk.’

‘I know. That’s my fear.’

   ‘Come here.’ He opened his arms and I walked right into them. ‘Do you really like this place or are you tired of searching?’ He got serious.

‘I like it. It is a bit expensive but it’s not like I'm moving into my husband’s house abi. I like that it feels homely too.’

‘Me too, but you’re the reason it’s homely. Anywhere you are will be my home. I love you Anne. I'm glad we’re taking this journey together.’

‘I love you too and I'm more grateful for you. After all these years, you're still in love with me. Thank you Ebere, for everything.’

‘For everything.’ Then we rocked to the music I hummed.

♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣

I got out of bed, removing the covering as gently as I could and walked barefoot to the dining section. Switching on the light, I drew a chair out and sat down inhaling deeply. The Bible in front of me was a gift I received ten years ago after emerging the best in a Bible competition in my State for the fifth time. It was customised with the specifications I wanted. My fingers ran so softly and gently over the washed letters on the worn leatherback as if what was left will peel if I didn’t exercise due care.

It had been more than a year since I last opened this book. It felt strange sitting in front of it after so long. Days had turned into weeks and soon, it was months without me as much as reading a verse or even praying. Only the verses I learnt from adolescence stuck to my memory. I turned pages, searching for my favorite passages and recited them, after some time, I stopped looking at the letters and said them by heart.

Did God still love me? Did I still matter to Him? He’d left me three years ago when I’d needed Him. I rubbed my head in frustration. If God did not desert me, I wouldn’t be in this mess contending whether I was worthy to still own a Bible, particularly after the way I have been living. Did He still care? Why, why doesn’t He show me a sign? At least, make me feel like I could still serve him no matter how far deep I was in sin. No! It isn’t that easy to love a sinner, most of all one that should know better than to commit fornication and justify it with the fact that she was likely going to marry him especially with the spiritual upbringing she was brought up with.

   I still went to church every week, mostly to avoid my mother’s talk but shouldn’t that count for something? God, I'm trying, okay! It is not easy to still be trying to serve you! Why won’t you make this easy for me or do you not care that I no longer find serving you a priority?! For once, I need you to speak to me or show me that you want me to serve you if not, I’ll be lost. Maybe you don’t care after all. The open scriptures suddenly felt like prying eyes so I shut it.

   It has been three years since the death of my father and my mother’s unsuccessful attempt to fight off my father’s brothers that came with hoes, and shack teeth to dig out everything they felt was theirs by right. She’d only been able to keep the money she initially sent to my account. His houses, cars, their jewelry business, and every property tied to his name were usurped by his family. With nothing else to do, my brothers made plans for my mother and us to join them in Canada to start life again. The change was most difficult on me so I returned to Nigeria.

   Coming back was harder with no family but I stayed. Most of my remaining school days were spent living or squatting with Yere and her boyfriend because I didn’t want to be alone. It was during this period I and Ebere started our relationship and I moved out of Osas’ house and into Ebere’s who chose to remain in Benin. I travelled to Canada after my graduation to be with my family. During the holidays, I would travel as much as our finances could allow, when it was unavailable, I found a part-time job. It gave me an escape of not having to listen to my mother profess her believe in God and claim that He was working things out for our good. She’d even resumed church as soon as she was settled in Canada. After church one Sunday, she declared that her desire to return to Nigeria and fight for her properties was completely gone. How could she be content with having only few clothes far below what used to be our standards as the possession to her name? I hated hearing her sing praises of God’s faithfulness in giving her another opportunity to restart life again.

   With time, I began to secretly loathe her for maintaining her faith fervently, a faith that I had lost too quickly and was too proud to admit. It got worse for me seeing my brothers and sister became more in tune with God than I was. Being in Nigeria saved me all that stress of keeping up with appearances.
I pushed the chair back angrily and went to sleep.