As we opened the door to our flat wide, Tolani and i rushed to reach out for the Blackberry charger. The charger was mine quite alright and hers got blown up by our faulty generator but we still managed to share it, though that slowed down a lot of things, our phones had been off and we really needed to spring it to life. Demola must have been trying my number since i said staring at the phone screen, waiting for the red battery sign to turn yellow and then white. Tolani who made her way to the kitchen after giving up on the charger fight had returned with a large tray bearing two plates of rice. I was about to pick my plate when this text message flashed in,’ OH MY GOD’, i screamed loud and dropped my phone bounced.
‘What is it?’ Tolani rushed to my side.
‘ No, No, this can’t happen, what have i done wrong?’, i clasped both hands and placed it in the middle of my head. ‘Demola has killed me’, tears were sprinting down my face.
‘What is it now? What has he done, talk now’. I pointed to my phone and asked her to read my message.
‘Hi, been trying your number for a while. I really need to get this straight, i dont want to go on with the wedding again, found a far-better partner. Deal with it’
What could have happened? I spoke with Demola five hours ago and he didnt even sound like he was going to stage such a big drama.
‘You wont sit down and cry yourself out like an abandoned baby. Take your phone and call him rightaway.’
‘Did you get my message?’ That was the first phrase that popped out of his mouth.
‘Whatt? Demola, whats the meaning of all that, what have i done wrong?’ and then he hung up on me.
A surge of strength overpowered me. ‘I’m storming his house right now, he has to explain this rubbish’. I snatched my car keys and rushed out, Tolani was behind me, i later handed the keys to her.
‘Demola for Heavens sake, its three weeks to our wedding, whats the meaning of this?’
‘I’ve had a busy day, i need some rest, i suggest you run through the message over again if there’s any part you dont understand.
‘But Demola……’ Tolani’s soft voice came next
‘Stay out of this,’ Demola cut in, he took his phone and walked to his room.
sat on my bed replaying the family meeting we had two days later. Demola’s parents were as confused as mine. He was insistent, his parents could do little to save the situation. Seeing his mind was already made up, we left in anger. I told him God would judge him and he would never find someone like me.
The room was dark and quiet, the sound of my tears robbed Tolani of her sleep. ‘Its okay Debola, God will provide you with a far better guy’. She pulled my head to her chest’. Tolani was an angel, she had provided unrivalled support ever since the whole mess started. I was extremly lucky to have a friend who also cooked, ran errands and did virtually everything for me.
The next morning was the most surprising. I jumped out of the dinning table to squeeze my friend in my arms. Grace Tiamiyu, my Abuja-based fashion designer friend was the last person to visit me. She is ever so busy with work that we hardly see in a year. She was meant to be my chief bridesmaid.
‘Tolani told me everything including your suicide attempts. Don’t worry, now that i will be spending a month with you, we’ll get that off your dainty mind.’ She flashed a smile. Right there, i pulled Tolani to myself and gave her a long hug. The surprise really went a long way.
Two weeks later, Tolani was out of town, she was going to spend her one month leave with her parents in Ibadan. Her absence was mildly felt because Grace was still around but we talked at length on phone.
One Saturday evening. Grace had drove out to get some chips from a nearby supermarket, she returned one hour later panting. She gave me a long look and sat beside me. I was apprehensive, ‘Grace did you see a Ghost or something?’
‘Debola, it would have been better’, tears trickled down her face. ‘I gave Kunle, Demola’s friend a ride just now, today is actually Demola’s wedding
‘And so?’ i hissed and looked away not willing to be drawn into anything that has to do with Demola again. I picked up the remote control. But I noticed Grace’s tears didn’t stop flowing.
‘What is it Grace? Are you ok at all?’
‘People are wicked, terrible, disgusting, devilish’ tears stopped the flow of her story. She dropped a wedding programme on my laps. Smiling on the cover page with Demola was my good friend, Tolani.