“Hello Ochuko. Is Omote in?”
Ochuko or rather “Chukky”, as Omote fondly calls her looks up from her laptop and smiles at me, I motion to her to sit back as she begins to stand to her feet to welcome me.
“Yes, sir. She is in.” She smiles at me fondly. Omote must have told her very good things about me. That thought warms me up a bit internally but it also saddens me deeply for some unknown reason. In five days, the protection spell will wear off and I’ll sever the link with Omote. Then I’ll have to ruin our relationship and break up with her. Everything we’ve shared. Down the drain.
In the 200 plus years since I turned, I haven’t put this much effort into a relationship that wasn’t my coterie or for the purpose of a mission. I have to admit, this relationship with Omote is a breath of fresh air. Omote is not only the prettiest woman I have ever laid my eyes on, she’s smart, she’s funny, driven and fiercely protective of the people in her circle. We have been dating for less than a month officially but in the months before that, where we were casually seeing each other, I got glimpses into her person. Through what she told me during conversations herself, all the phone calls of her sorting people’s problems out I’d eavesdropped on. Then there is the fact that the ida oloju meji herself finds her worthy of her protection.
I won’t lie. I don't rate humans. They’re fickle, untrustworthy, and generally annoying. As a matter of fact, I go very out of my way to avoid relationships with humans but I find that not only do I enjoy my relationship with Omote, I also enjoy my proxy relationship with the humans in her circle. Especially her younger sister Onanefe. The girl is such a sweet soul. I feel fiercely protective of her, the way I would feel about a member of the Makanjuola Coterie. I severely underestimated the power of the link with Omote.
“I’ll see myself in.”
“Okay sir.”
With that I walk into the apartment turned office and head towards Omote’s office. As I near the office, I feel a sudden unexplainable ire rise within me. I recognize almost instantly that the feeling is a proxy feeling meaning on the other side of the door I was about to knock on, Omote was facing something that upset her deeply. I knock, wait for her “Come in.” and open the door.
“I said I’m not attending the wedding. I will not attend the wedding of the man who put me through the worst years of my life.”
The fury that threatened to overtake me was mine. All mine. I wanted a name and an address. This man who hurt her, I wanted his blood on my hands. I walked closer to her, walking past the visitor’s seat to stand beside her. I extend my palm to her with a look that says squeeze it to let out your anger.
She smiles, clearly misunderstanding the message my eyes were trying to convey because she takes my palm and raises my wrist to her nose and… she inhales. She inhales and I watch and feel as the irritation in her dies down. Because she… because of… My scent calmed her down?
“I don’t care that his mother is the vice chairwoman of your Women’s Committee. I am not attending the wedding. You have married daughters, invite them.” She says, then pauses as her mum responds. “Enjoy the rest of your day Mrs Mabel.” She drops the call.
She then gets up and presses her body into mine, arms wrapping around my waist. I don’t know what overcomes me but I put my palm on her hair and start caressing her weave the way you’d caress a cat’s fur.
I know it’s a weave because for one, her real hair isn’t 18inches and Chestnut Brown. For two, I bought this weave for her after she posted it on her WhatsApp story and captioned it, “If I don’t wear this hair before the month ends, I might die.” Can’t have her dying while I’m still linked to her, so I bought it. My lips curve into a smile as I remember the way she squealed and jumped on me when I gave her the bag containing the hair two days after she posted it. The primal pride that rushed over me as I caught and held her, to her delighted surprise.
She finally pulls away from me and pulls me with her towards the guest chairs. She motions to me to sit on one and moves toward the other one to sit on it but I stop her in motion. Sitting on the chair and testing its sturdiness, I pull her to sit on my lap. She does and, boy this link is something else because she fit into me like it was included in our body build to sync with each other.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Which part? The mother who hates me so much, she wants me to attend the wedding of the worst ex I’ve ever had or the worst ex I’ve ever had himself?” She asks in a tired voice.
I remember all the calls with her mum I’d sat through since we started seeing each other. They were few but they were always terse. I really don’t understand the animosity between mother and daughter but I know better than to intrude on family matters so I choose the safer subject: the ex whose funeral might replace his wedding.
“The ex.” My jaw clenches at that. There was a man before me. A fierce wave of possessiveness washes over me because of the link.
She suddenly gets up to sit opposite me and my body immediately mourns the loss of her softness. I also realize I had been stroking her back, absentmindedly.
“I wish you’d picked my mum.” She says, smiling sadly. “It’s not that I want to hide anything from you my love, it’s just that I would rather chew rocks for every meal for the rest of my life or even use fresh lava to bathe than speak about Osasere and everything he put me through.”
I immediately hated every man named Osasere. It was irrational but I don’t care.
“As for my mum, one day I’ll know why she hates me the way she does.”
She smiled again. Watching her smile that sad smile, my heart hurt for her and I knew it had nothing to do with the link we share. It was the kindred pain of shared experiences. Iya Egbe has healed wounds she did not make but the sad part about pain and hurt is that the wounds heal, the scars might disappear with time but the memories, the memories are a lifetime souvenir.
I get up and pull her into my arms again. This time, I’m not sure it’s because of the link.
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Taming Femi
Vampire"I'm nobodies woman." Omotekoro said, baiting him to say otherwise. "Of course you are." Babafemi drawled, lips pulling into a full sensual smile, like a cat staring at a bowl full of creamy delicious milk. He put his arms around her waist and pull...
