Her exotic face and prominent breast dazzled me when I’d barely survived the demise of a relationship that almost killed me.
I tried getting her attention but she didn’t notice me, then the stalking began.
I found out her name was Ejiro and she ran an NGO called ‘Fear Drop’ through which she championed the causes of battered women.
At twenty-six, without a university degree, she ran a successful business, took care of her diabetic mother and paid her siblings tuition fees.
Her popularity grew as she encouraged more women to speak up against violence but I felt helpless that my affection couldn’t grow on her.
Her creepy aura kept me at bay – a flaw I suspected kept her single – and I wasn’t sure I could penetrate her firewall. Still I followed her.
I volunteered to walk with her in her campaign against violence, keeping a safe distance as I strategized. More than once I caught an affluent elderly man stare at her like a scavenger and that was when I knew I had to drop my fears.
That night I mustered courage and walked to her house but was already beaten to it by that same elderly man from nowhere. I watched, pleasantly surprised, from my hideout as she yelled at him holding the door ajar.
‘Go to hell where you belong’
‘I love you’ he said and she banged the door in his face.
He went to his parked jeep and drove away. As he disappeared I said to myself that should he show his face again, he would be seeing her in my embrace. So I went to prepare.
Ten days later I stood at her door in my tuxedo with a rose in my hand, about to knock and decided against it. I turned the knob and sneaked inside to surprise her.
Barely inside, I heard her footstep as she walked to the sitting room. ‘Who is there?’
I quickly hid myself and kept quiet.
‘It’s me Ejiro’ I heard a baritone voice answered from outside.
My heart began to beat like a locomotive engine as I watched her open the door revealing that same intruder. She stepped aside and allowed him inside. I got surprised instead.
‘Thank you for having me’ his voice quivered ‘I know I don’t deserve a second chance ’ ‘Everyone deserves a second chance’ she replied, ‘and I deserve one too’
‘But you’ve done nothing wrong’ he said.
‘I failed myself’ she continued ‘I got too busy and did not notice the lump’
‘I don’t understand’ he looked confused.
‘I have cancer’
‘God!’
‘Don’t blame it on God, I was carefree but I will survive this like mum, my sisters and I survived your betrayal -’
‘I am very sorry ’
‘Just so you know dad, I cannot help you win their forgiveness; it’s your cross’ he nodded.
After a moment silence, she spoke again.
‘By next tomorrow I will have one breast left’ she smiled weakly.
‘What?’
‘A surgical operation will be performed on my left breast to remove the malignant tumor to prevent a spread of the disease’ she started crying as her father cuddled her, his eyes watery.
No way! I screamed but she didn’t hear me as usual. Just like my last lover whom I was severed from surgically, I was about to lose another lover, leaving me a loser again. I don’t care if they call me cancer or malignant, I only care about winning this fight as I recoiled back into my position in her left breast.
Richard Odilu
www.naijaseer.blospot.com
@thenaijaseer
