THE VILLAGE GIRL....EPISODE 3

THE VILLAGE GIRL....EPISODE 3

He didn’t feel any fear as he drove into the
compound. The fear of her confrontation
about why he’d ignored her calls was
expected but it didn’t manifest. His mind
overflowed with bliss, strange but lovely.
He whistled as he parked his car. He came
down with a foreign poise, jiggling his car
keys.
Cynthia’s car, a dark blue Camry, was
parked at a corner.
He asked Okon how long his madam had
been around.
Referring to her as madam came out a bit
uneasy this time. There has a been a
happening, one capable of reversing titles.
‘E done tey, Oga,’ Okon said, his lips
pinched out in the characteristic way he
spoke.
‘When exactly?’
The short man scratched his head. ‘
Erm…erm…Oga, e done tey o. It has really
really tey.’
He resigned to a sigh and walked upstairs,
Okon tagging along with his traveler’s bag.
He drew back the curtain and met sudden
raucousness.
The speakers blared with Omawumi’s voice
as she begged to be given bottom belle so
that she would cool her heart.
Stella, their live-in maid, was at the centre
of the room, twisting this way and that in
frenzy as she tried to move her huge self to
the rhythm of the song.
The AC was on but the sweat poured off her
like one drenched in rain. The remote in her
right hand towered above her head while
her other hand held her wide skirt together
as she hihi and hehe’d to the song.
She only realized their presence when Oga
turned the player off.
She jolted. ‘Welcome, Oga.’ She raised her
shirt to wipe sweat from her face. Oga
could see the washed-out bra that held her
bounteous bosoms in place.
‘Where is your Madam?’
‘She went out, sir.’
‘Without her car?’
‘She said she need walking.’
‘Need walking?’
‘Yes, nee…need to walk.’
‘Needed to walk.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘For whatever reason would she?’
‘Oga?’
‘Take the bag from Okon.’
‘Ok, sir.’
As Okon transferred the bag to her, they
exchanged expressions, the quick and silent
facial communication that was common to
servants. It looked like one rebuked the
other while the one being rebuked did to
mean she didn’t care.
Cynthia returned an hour later. She was
breathing heavily as she entered the sitting
room.
Richard lowered his paper and sat up on
the couch.
‘Where have you been?’
‘Went walking and I just ran up the stairs.’
‘You are exercising at this time?’
She worked out a lot and it had given her
that desirable trim body that any woman
would kill for.
‘Not really. Dr. Hope said I shouldn’t be
going heavy for now anyway. But I really
can’t sacrifice all my efforts.’
‘Dr. Hope? You went to the clinic?’
‘Yes.’ That came out with a gasp.
She flopped down on the couch, curled
round him and kissed his cheek.
‘She said I’m three weeks gone.’
He was sure he has heard a statement like
that before, in the movies maybe, but he
struggled now to decipher what she meant.
Cynthia’s face had lit up in glee. Her whole
dentition showed in a large smile. It wasn’t
often that she smiled like that.
‘Baby, what do you mean?’ he asked.
She slapped his shoulder lightly.
‘Come on, I’m pregnant.’
He momentarily blanked out. His fingers on
her thighs felt numb.
But then he recovered. And slowly his mind
settled and he understood what Cynthia’s
pregnancy meant, that it wasn’t something
to be scared of now. Not like Chidimma’s
when he was 16. Now he is a man and can
take responsibility.
A picture of a cute baby formed in his
mind, pink toothless gums showing in a
jerky baby smile.
A smile crept onto his face and soon the
excitement spread over him like smoke in a
room, shutting off all that were his earlier
thoughts.
He hugged her tight. ‘Baby, we gonne have
a baby.’ He was smiling.
Cynthia nodded promptly, holding him
tightly back.
‘A baby, can you believe that!’
She kissed his shoulder and nodded again.
From behind the separating wall of the
dining room, Stella pitched a long hiss and
entered the kitchen.
She would not add salt or pepper or Maggi
to whatever she was going to make that
evening, whatever ingredient that’d make
the food less tasty.