Memoirs of A Repentant Slut 11

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Staring at the blood-stricken rug, reminiscing my first moment and moments with Amaka, I can’t help but pray earnestly in my mind that she’s hale and hearty. I love the fun she gives me; to hell with the stress that comes with it.

Even though a part of me wants to think it’s all a prank, life doesn’t pull pranks so doesn’t Amaka and even if she’s up to something, it’s never gonna be something threatening as this but woe-betide her if this is all for nothing cos I can swear I have already lost a pound in the process of worrying about her but seriously, I need to find her first.

The compound was still very much silent, nobody around still; don’t know who to call or whose opinion to seek. Jide would have been my first go-to counseling centre if things hadn’t gone sour and dramatic earlier on and I know he would have taken Amaka’s issue so seriously than I would have but now, I don’t even have a 1 percent gut to call or text him even though I know I’m still gonna face him later to explain myself whether he’s interested or not.

Amaka and I had decided to get a place together after my 5th year of my law course and I was preparing for Law School and Amaka was about going for her service year. She studied Creative Writing and I was borrowing two courses from her department in my 2nd year when we met. We had become inseparable and compatible and she thought why not? And we got the house which she virtually paid for. I was gonna pick up a job at a law firm in three months time and she was gonna launch her design line and publish her supposedly secret novel she has been working on. . . I really can’t wait to read it.
The almighty sexy voice of “Korede Bello in Godwin” broke the solitary silence in the room. I picked my phone to check who the hell was calling me at this unpleasant hour except if it’s Jide but unfortunately it was Sola.

“What does he want again?” I screamed as if Amaka was in front of me telling me Sola is at the door to see me. It’s already almost 7 months after the issue na. . . him pepper suppose don rest! Shoo!
I have already made up my mind that I wasn’t gonna pick even if he calls ten times. Whatever business I have with him ended the day Amaka pulled that restaurant stunt. He continued calling that even my ringtone was becoming annoying.

I stood up, got off my heels, went to bathroom, took a cloth-mop soaked in a soapy water, headed back to the living room and I began to clean up the blood. My brain wasn’t coordinating, even though the soapy water was cleaning it; it still wasn’t a wise idea to clean up the rug with water. My phone vibrated and screamed “Message”, I knew it was Sola and I was definitely not wrong about that.

“I presumed you won’t pick my call, so I decided to send you a text. Although, I regret almost everyday what I did to you, I was out of line, I can only hope you’d forgive and don’t break up our long term ties, stashing knowing me and everything because of my mistake. I am really sorry but I can’t be dwelling on this matter everyday. . . That I wanted to tell you and I also wanted to tell you that Amaka was arrested earlier today and she is at the police station opposite the school gate. You should go see her. . . ”

I hurriedly stood up. The first part of the message never mattered like the last part. How come Sola knew Amaka was arrested? And for what reason was she arrested? What’s going on here?
I really wanted to call Sola back and asked him some necessary questions but I was so filled with anger and pride; “I will never be caught calling Sola, texting him or talking to him at that.” At least, I know Amaka is alright. If she was injured, she is supposed to be at the hospital and not locked up.
Sola already helped with providing the police station in which Amaka was being held, I would fill in the missing gaps myself but I still can’t help but wonder whose blood was lying on my rug. I was really confused.

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Memoirs of A Repentant Slut 10

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Amaka Coker was one out of the few great things that happened to my life. I remembered the first time we met; it was like we had known each other for ages. She has and always had an alluring and magnetic personality; she’s more real than life, ‘couthly’-blunt and highly hyper-active. She has this laughter and smile that makes you wanna believe life is problem-free and everything is perfect with her. Her voice and words speaks Bob Marley’s “Every little thing is gonna be alright. . . Don’t worry be happy, even if your landlord says your rent is late.”
We met in one of the awkward places most men don’t wanna meet their future wife; where most ladies beef each other just for the night. Where ladies who covet each other’s body shape during the day, bad-mouths the so-called perfect body to sell market. There you see the realest of all boobs and the fakes; those 3 inches padded boobs where customers discover say na bobo juice after e don pay finish.
Ours is a meeting point where different dialects of pidgin is being spoken; where figure one during the day becomes figure 8 at night; where people who no sabi each other for day become enemies with abusive words hurling at each other.

Amaka was the hot type; with the Joselyn Dumas kind of shape and a Mercy Johnson type of height. She was of high demand and has a high class taste of customers. She has a zero tolerance for low self esteem and even though the girls talk bad about her when she’s not around, they dare not the moment she arrives. My babe get respect for body. Most times, customers drive off without hooking up with anyone if she is not available.
Amaka never does multiple per night. She always says, “my body no be deliverance centre where I attend to many situations per day” lol. The girl is a piece of work; a human comic relief when everything turns boring and sour.

Sitting on the couch, staring at the clock; watching the short hand of the clock on 7 and the long hand on 12; it was as if darkness was over the face of my earth and the only person to proclaim ‘tada! Let there be light’ has suddenly gone missing.

The house felt so empty without her and I can’t help but feel something terrible has happened to her. She tells me always, “no matter what happened to me, I’m a big girl, and I can always handle the situation”.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Hey, you are not going home tonight?”

“And you are?” I fired back

“Hey, chill! You don’t have to be hard with everyone just because life is hard on you. Life is hard on everyone girlie, you just have to handle it pretty well and stop throwing tantrums at everyone that comes your way. . . Anyway, I was just showing some care, that’s all.”

She sounded so bitchy as she sounded so cool in one stretch of sentence.

“I’m sorry I replied you that way.”

“Well, forget it! I don’t take things too seriously. . .

“Well, I am. . .”

“Never mind, I know who you are. I mean beyond the walls of the streets. I know you don’t remember my face but I do. You are the girl with the incredible brain. . . Remember that response you gave Dr. Freeze at LEM 201 class? You made a lot of sense. Anyways, I’m your course mate.” She said in a long-stretch of utterance without a pause.

“Ow! Okay. So sorry I couldn’t recognize you, I’m not too good with faces.”

“No problem.”

I just lied though. I am very much good with faces. Maybe faces that has hurt me are quite unforgettable to me but I really never noticed her like I really never noticed any of my course mates because I love my solitariness.
“So, why are you here?” we both asked each other at the same time.

“You first!” I responded.

“Why are you working here? You don’t care if anybody who knows you like our course mates find you here? Even though you don’t know them, they know you!”

“Do you care?” I asked her.

“Who gives a damn?. . . But why do you work here?”

“Cos I need the money.”

“Really?”

I almost gave her a disdain look.

“What do you mean really?” I asked with so much disgust

“Never mind. So, won’t you go home tonight? After all, the show is over”

“Well, I have nowhere to stay for tonight and the little money I have with me is not even enough for my plans.”

That was so unlike me; I just blurted out to a total stranger without holding back.

“Anyways, this is N50,000; you can add it to whatever you have in your purse if it’s enough to get you a place to sleep for the night and maybe solve your problems.”

I collected the money that it felt like a dream holding it between my hands. I spent almost 15mins caressing the money, as I looked up to thank her or ask her why she gave it to me, she was almost far gone.

“Why did you give me the money?” I screamed on top of my voice hoping she would hear or reply me and sure she did.

“Because I don’t do this for the money. You need it; I don’t.”

“Thanks. . . But who are you? Your name? You didn’t tell me.”

“Amaka Coker” she screamed back.

Memoirs of A Repentant Slut 9

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“Hi”

“Hello” I replied

That was Jide’s sister I guess. . . It was kinda weird, I mean this type of date. Jide didn’t tell me we were going for lunch at his parents. Too sudden I guess. . . It’s just date 2 after a six months reunion. Maybe he was overwhelmed in the excitement and he is trying to taking things a little bit up notch or he is trying to impress me. Whichever way, I am here already and it’s too late to turn back but I am definitely gonna make sure to tell him not to pull that kind of surprise on me again. I’m not used to it. I can only pray the lunch goes well.

“This is Sade Jones, my sister. Our last born. She is in the University studying Food Technology. In her second year actually.”

“Hi. It’s my pleasure to meet you.” I replied, facing the sister and exchanging handshake with her. What lady does handshake? Except me! Handshake is typical guys.

“And this is my brother, Femi Jones, he’s the 3rd born, after me. He is in his finals at the University, studying Chemical Engineering.”

“And finally, this is my big sister, she’s the first born of the house, I came after her. She’s married and she came around to spend some days with Mum and Dad with her husband. She graduated four years ago with B. A. Mass Communication and she’s an ace broadcaster. Her name is Kayinsola and this is her husband, Uncle Funso.” He said pointing facing their side.

“And their little baby Folakemi.”

“Good evening ma, it’s a pleasure to meet all of you.”

“It’s our pleasure to meet you too.” They said in chorus. It’s like they’ve rehearsed it but yet I was still a little bit uncomfortable. I am yet to meet the real goons of the house; Mr. and Mrs. Jones.
Finally, the table was set and we were all seated to eat when Mrs. Jones walked in and I greeted her warmly and she gave me a warm embrace not knowing who I am yet. Maybe it never mattered for now because I was with her son and she knows definitely the introduction is going to come. With everybody seated except Mr. Jones, but not for long as he walked in a top and short. His face looked familiar. Can’t remember where but I hope it’s not where I am thinking it is and I hope it’s just an assumption and that hopefully none of us has ever seen each other before. He sat down and was calm but I greeted him and he greeted me too.

Jide blessed the meal and he told his family he wanted to say something.

“Before we eat, I would want to introduce someone who all my siblings have met except you Mum and Dad.”

“She is. . .”

“She is nobody!” Jide’s dad screamed.

Everyone was surprised and now it looks like my world was gonna crash.

“Dad!”

“Son!” He screamed back at Jide.

“This is no girlfriend of yours.”

“She isn’t my girlfriend yet dad but I was gonna ask her to be my girlfriend today hoping she wasn’t gonna turn me down again.”

I really wished Jide hasn’t said that, that wasn’t necessary or maybe it was my feelings that was hurt.

“Well son, this is no soon-to-be-girlfriend of yours!”

“What’s going on here?” Jide’s elder sister, Kayinsola asked, facing her dad.

“Hey young lady, stand up, on your feet.” Chief Jones screamed at me.

I couldn’t stand up, my feet were cold, it was obvious we had met in the course of my rendezvous but I can’t remember having anything to do with him.

“Do you remember me? Allen Venue, late last year, around 10pm?”

I was speechless still.

“You see son! This girl is a hooker! A prostitute. She sleeps with men for money and the sexual enjoyment.” He said facing Jide.

“And how do you know all of that Dad? 10pm? Allen Avenue? What were you doing there?” He said with his voice becoming violent towards his dad.

“I won’t have you question me in my own home or create unnecessary fuss over this prostitute here. This lunch is over.”

“Shall we?” Jide’s voice beckoned on me to stand up.

I left without a word. I was broken. Jide never said a word throughout the drive home. Even when he dropped me at home, he never uttered a word or open the door of the car for me as he used to. I sat for an hour in front of the house speechless, sad and hurt.

The whole compound was extremely silent. It was becoming late, to 7pm. I decided to open my door. I came in, on the light to an huge display of fresh blood all over the rug, smelling so fresh. I was scared. No one was around. Not even one neighbour. Has someone broken in? And by the way where’s Amaka? She was supposed to be at home. What has happened to her?

I dialed Amaka’s line countless times, it wasn’t reachable. There’s a huge cause for alarm. Where’s Amaka? Who would I call now?

 

TO BE CONTINUED