Tunde°
I returned to the car holding a new bag I got which was in its white bag clothing. The name was sprawled across the bag clothing but that was not my attraction. The young lady that was selling in her words said, "This is the original Christain Dior."
It was not a designer I was familiar with but she spoke of it to be one of the best and I knew Nene deserved the best.
I handed her the bag as I got into the car.
"What?" She asked, pulling the elastic rope to loosen the clothing that housed the bag. "What is this?"
"I don't know," I shrugged, "They said, it's Christain Dior and it's original. "
She laughed, running her hands over the bag. "Indeed it is but you didn't have to. "
I keyed into the ignition and replied, "I know. It's just so you can use it when the one from Madam Chinaka spoils. "
I drove into the road and she said nothing so I asked, "Don't you like the bag? "
"Tunde, there's a bible in here," She stated.
"I know, " I replied, "I put it there. I realized you don't own a Bible."
She laughed and I was grateful. I was wondering how she would welcome the gesture because I knew most women would not like the idea of being gifted a Bible.
She placed a hand firmly on my thighs. "Thank you. I love the bag and the Bible is beautiful. "
I nodded smiling, pausing for a moment as her hand left my body. I began to play mild music.
"Hope you like the song?" I asked as Timi Dakolo's voice sang through the stereo.
"I love the voice," She replied.
"So where are we going? " She asked.
"We are almost there, " I replied to her.
I stopped over at a restaurant and got some snacks, drinks and ice-cream then I returned to the car.
"Tell me where we're going to," She whined, "Tell me, tell me. "
"Patience, my lady." I replied with a smile.
It was a matter of minutes and my mystery was revealed as I drove into the recreational center.
"Ojukwu Bunker! really? " Nene asked laughing.
"What's funny? " I asked, looking for a good place to park.
"We used to come here when we were kids with my dad and step-mom," She said, then quickly rephrased, "My dad and my mom. "
I said nothing as I weighed and sieved her words. But then, I shrugged.
"I have not been here before, " I said to her. I only asked around just so I could bring her there.
I did not have to ask to know her father was dead and I did not have to investigate to know she was not in good terms with her 'mom' yet I smiled while propelling the car slowly close to the field.
I did not mind sitting on the field like that but she seemed to even though she wore a black pleated trouser that stopped some inches below her knee. It was just her sleeveless turtleneck that was bright yellow. We had to make a paper blanket by spreading old newspapers from my trunk on the floor.
A couple was playing with their little daughter on the swing. I followed the movement of the swing as it went high then came down. The laughter of the child was being happily carried by the wind.
"Boys or girls? " Nene asked suddenly.
I looked at her and she understood the confusion on my face.
"Children," she explained while opening the nylons and bringing out the plates of ice-cream.
"I don't have a preference, " I said, leaning back and placing my hands on the ground behind me. "Whichever comes, I take. What about you? "
"I also don't have a preference, " she replied, then handed me a plastic spoon and my own plate of ice-cream.
"How did you know I love meat pie? " she asked.
"I pay attention," I said, wiping off the imaginary crease from the front of my T-shirt, taking credit for my guess work.
She laughed then took a bite of the meat pie while I licked my ice cream. I would have preferred to take a drink but since she opened the plate and handed it to me herself, I now had to silently lick it.
"Let's play a game," She said, playing with her spoon in her mouth. "I'll say a topic and you would tell me something about you on that topic. "
"Okay," I said, finally ditching the ice-cream and picking up a bottle of orange juice.
She grinned. "Ice cream. "
"I don't like it."
"I love it!" She said running a tongue seductively at the back of her spoon.
"Colour."
"Brown," I replied.
"Blue and peach," She replied. "But then, who likes brown?"
"I guess, me."
She tilted her head looking at me as if in thoughts. "Number of kids."
"Four," I replied.
"Three."
"Age," She said, then chewed on her meat pie.
"Thirty four."
"Twenty six."
"Now, I can proudly say that I am old enough to give birth to you," I said, laughing.
She also laughed, "Crazy. Did you start producing semen at eight? "
"Who knows? " I shrugged.
"Relationship."
"Single. "
"Single."
We said at the same time and I smiled convinced that I was doing something right since her status changed from the last time we neared the relationship discussion.
"I'm single and available," I added , twirling my bottle of orange drink and looking at her, waiting for her reaction.
"Single and ready to mingle," She replied, also looking at me. It was like a battle, she wore a smile on her face as her eyes met mine. I was the first to look away then I broke out laughing.
"That was intense," I said.
She laughed too then said, "But really, we have done too much for people that are not dating. You have done alot for me."
I scoffed, shaking my head, "I don't even recall," then I looked at her and asked, "But isn't dating just a title? "
She nodded. She seemed to agree. I walked the newspaper mat with my fingers then I reached her hand and she immediately intertwined our fingers . That was a sign right there. She agreed.