To my mum, you shaped my heart.
Published : 2015; An anthology of new Nigerian short stories.
Edited
It was sometime in September you could remember vividly. You had finish your secondary school education and passed your WAEC in flying colors. What made you remember September was because you had sleepless nights. That didn't at all meant you were suffering from insomnia but because your parents had quarrels about you deep in the night.
Your father kept repeating his words that you were going to the university to study economics since you've gotten admission into Ahmadu Bello University Zaria.
Your mother had a different point of view. You were not going to the university to end like....well you knew what she meant. That you must get married because three of her friend's daughters, your age mates, were already married. One with a baby and the other two expecting.
Your mother's voice rose high and your fathers voice rose higher. So, a decision was finalized, you were going to the university. Your father won, after all who was the head of the family?
You went to ABU Zaria and started staying at ribadu hall.You were naïve, calm, afraid of the new environment. You had in mind what to do. You were to study hard, graduate in flying colours, make your father happy and show him he had made the right choice. You also wanted to make your mother happy. You'll get married anytime the right person comes into your life ,you promised. You were still a reserved naïve girl and you read hard. Your CGPA at your first year was at second class upper.
Then you started making friends, those classical university friends. First they complained about the way you dress, it was so outdated. You cover up all of your body. That you are beautiful and even hot but you cover up . That you needed a change of wardrobe to something hot, you agreed.
They complained about covering your hair, that it was as long as rapunzel's and that nobody will know when you cover it. You said it was unislamic to leave your hair open and silently they agreed with you, so, you continued covering your hair. Then lastly they insisted you have a boyfriend. That it was unclassy of you, the whole beautiful you to be without a boyfriend. You told them that you didn't know how to get a boyfriend; they told you that they will find one for you, no problem.
They hooked you up with Abbakar a 300 level architecture student. He was slim, dark complexioned, tall, very tall like the neem tree in front of your house, you could remember that. For the very first time in your life a guy told you in plain words that he loved you and that he really did. He gave you this ticklish, feverish feeling and your friends said it was love.
You talked about many things and you became close , very close. You told him about your periods, your cramps and he giggled. You told him about your childhood days, your family, your fears. But there was one single thing you guys never talked about; you never talked about marriage, never!
You wanted to talk about marriage to make your mother happy but you didn't want to sound desperate. They say boys of this days do not like desperate girls,you were not desperate you told yourself. You loved him and there was something in the way he looks at you that no man had ever looked at you that same way. It unleashed the demons in you,the ones you never knew they existed, the demons of lust.
He offered to take you out, you declined and your classical friends told you that you were a village girl, local. Then you wanted to prove to them that you weren't, you were now a sophisticated ABU student so you went.
He offered to take you to a club you declined telling him it was unislamic, he mocked you for being pious and at last he took you to Mr. biggs.You two dined there.
