We always said goodbyes without knowing when we were saying the last one but I knew. Each time he walked out that door, I stored memories because I did not want to forget how happy he once made me.
It's up to four months since he walked out my door. I remembered holding onto the scent of him, I remembered standing at the window and waving even when he could not see me, even when I knew he would never turn to look at me. I knew then that while he mumbled a goodbye at my door before he left, it could have been the last one. It was also two months exactly from the last time he came to my place and I ruined his clothes with bleach water.
It is me. I have never loved enough to fight for anyone but this time I was going to try. That's why I'm in Delta, the same state that he is in. I don't know the city or even his address. I did not ask before he left but I am here, I know I would find him before I leave. I just have to.
So many things have happened since Tunde left my life. I have moved to a new location which has a wider hall where I can display my clothes and mannequins. Ike also did his traditional marriage with a big bellied Amanda. I took pictures of the couple but I have deleted them now. Ike never smiled in any of them and Amanda's smile looked fake.
This is my first night in delta. Stella has gone out with her boyfriend. He finally divorced his wife and Stella is willing to accept his two kids as hers. I love to hear successful love stories especially when it is sealed with a ring just like the one on her finger. That's why I'm here, to see if I could make my own love story.
It is tomorrow that we will start my hunt and I am scared. I want to spend a night here and return home tomorrow but I have come this far and this feeling of cowardice is alien to me. I have questions like, what if he has moved on? What if I came too late?
I know I should have come earlier but this unfamiliar fear of rejection has held me down most mornings when I dressed to come to Delta but I'm here now with a new senator dress I made by guessing measurements. If he rejects me for all the pain I put him through, I could easily leave the cloth with him and leave for good. It was going to be difficult but I will really leave for good.
Stella comes home with food but I'm not hungry. Sitting at this balcony and drinking in the sight of the city and my thoughts are enough food.
"Lady come," Stella says, "Let's search for him on facebook."
I shake my head. "He's not there. I don't think he's a social media person."
She laughs. "Please who is? Even if he's not, he should have an account to advertise his art works."
I sigh and look at her. "I have searched for him but nothing."
"Then what are you doing here, do you want to announce him wanted in the papers? " Stella asks, throwing her hands in the air, clearly exasperated and maybe frustrated by my unwillingness.
I do not tell her that I do not know, that I only came to see if I could by chance or by special powers, grasp his scent on the streets of Delta.
"Are the children accepting you?" I asked.
She shrugged. "They don't give problems, they don't warm up to me either."
I nodded. It could be hard as a child to be told a stranger is your new mother.
"They just do what they're told and if they have complaints, they direct it to the father," she said, going to stand at the railing. "I'm trying not to force myself on them so everything can flow naturally."
I nodded. "That's a good idea."
She smiled at me. "That's what I think too."
We slept off in the sitting room that night. The next morning we brush and then I follow her to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Our progress is interrupted by a call from her lover. She plays with the hem of her dress as she responds and even starts to unbraid her hair. I wanted to feel like that. To foolishly pour milk and oil for tea while talking to a lover, to mix cocoa in my pot of rice - I wanted the silliness and temporary self unawareness that came with love.
I had felt like that so many times before when Tunde called me and I wanted to feel like that again. I was going to find him. It just became urgent and I also had to tell him that I now know the meaning of, 'Mo nife re ' and it does not mean, 'You are beautiful'.
"I'm sorry," Stella says once the call ends and then we return to the parlor. Breakfast is forgotten.
"Tell me something about him, his mother's name, favorite food, nickname or anything, " Stella lists off on her fingers.
"I don't know! " I scream. She stares at me coldly then continues whatever she was typing on her phone.
"Just call him. That guy is fucking mature, he would pick."
I knew that but if I want to talk to Tunde after two months, I want to sit or stand in front of him, eye to eye. Suddenly, I remember his mother.
"Type Nene," I said quickly and excitedly like I had solved a puzzle.
"Why would his social media account be a woman's name ?" Stella asks but still does the search.
"His mother," I say and immediately, I realize it was not even her name but a name her husband used to call her. My heart sinks deeper than before.
"There are tags," Stella says, "Just hashtags."
I watch her face because it is the face that carries news faster. Her lips widen in a grin and I move closer to her even before she says, "It's a painting."
It was indeed a painting. The one that was hung at his dining area. A picture of a woman bent over a little child protectively. Even if I did not know that painting, I recognized his initials, 'T. O' at the foot of the painting.
We click on the profile, "Brown coat" the whole gallery was filled with nothing but artworks. I knew some. I saw them in his little studio. There is also a painting that looked exactly like the view from my office window, the unpainted houses which had charcoal drawings on them. I copy down the address of his gallery and I do not want to waste any more time but I am going to shower and look beautiful. I had to look beautiful.