Lady Baby

9

"He got my number during the lunch break, and here we are now." Sharon tapped a finger on the arm of her chair, her eyes shifting to the ornate wall clock that hung to their right.

Max wanted to tell her to relax a little. Why was she in a hurry to leave? It wasn't as if they had spent more than an hour in her uncle's company.

Uncle Olu beamed at both of them. "You have such an interesting story there. So, how did you go about—" Uncle Olu paused and wiggled his grey brows "—wooing her?"

Sharon slapped a palm over her face and sunk deeper into her seat. Max would have laughed if he wasn't currently fighting with the frustration building inside him.

"I charmed her with messages. It didn't take long before she began replying and breaking out of her shell." Max chuffed then shook his head. "Should have known the damn thing was multi-layered."

"Multi-layered?"

He had said that last part out loud? Awesome.

"Yes, Max. Tell us what you mean by multi-layered." Sharon's voice sounded too sweet to be genuine. She had found another reason to be mad at him. Great.

"It just slipped. But I know you know that I am correct." He turned to face her. From his peripheral vision, he saw his in-law lean into his seat, watching them like he was seeing his favourite show.

"Go ahead, enlighten me." Her eyes lit up with quite fury and Max thought himself a fool for thinking she looked even more beautiful at that moment—anger and all.

Shrugging, Max folded his arms across his chest. "Since you want to know so badly. I thought that you liked all of me. I showed you who I was from the beginning, no pretence... well, okay. There was that time I pretended to like sushi, but that was beyond the point. I showed you who I am and it is beyond frustrating that you'd use the same knowledge to attack me. Why? Didn't you like me as I was then? Why are you trying to change me now, huh? I like me as I am."

She stared at him, her silence heavy. What he would give to know what she was thinking at the moment.

"It's my fault. It's all my fault." She looked away and focused on the table surface.

"She keeps saying that." Max turned to her uncle. "See what I go through? I tell her I hate how she bugs my life and she spews self-righteous trash about it all being her fault. She acts like this marriage is a cross she must carry because it's her fault she married me. How does that solve the problem? How does it help? I feel as though I am something to be managed or tolerated." He turned to her. "Do you know how that feels?"

"Mr Olu, how long does this session last?" Her face was passive now; a skill she had honed to perfection over the years he had known her.

"We have been at this for almost an hour and thirty minutes." Uncle Olu glanced at the clock. "I'd be stepping out now." He stood and stretched.

When Max attempted to do the same, he frowned down at him.

"Sit. Lunch is in thirty minutes." He walked around his desk and made for the door. "Use that time to talk about what was discussed today."

Sharon sprung to her feet and began voicing her disagreement.

Something in Max deflated. Was he that terrible? That she couldn't even bear thirty minutes with him in the same space without a third party.

"Sit down, Sharon. Stop acting like a child and sit down."

"But I have..."

"Don't." Uncle Olu halted her words with a raised palm. He suddenly looked so drained and old. "I do not want to hear it. Look at me. My wife is dead and I miss her to an extent you wouldn't believe. I only loved her properly when I became much wiser, but on more days than I would like, I remember the years I was horrible to her."