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Nigeria's Leading Fictional Story Blog: Dressed in a pair of blue jeans, Sari, Snoring, Wanted him by all means, Christian, Marry, Father, Mother, Parents, Leggings, Blouse, TV, Heartbreak.

Lydia was seated on the couch in the living room attempting to watch TV. She barely paid attention to the screen though. She was fixated on Everest. Somehow, the TV screen looked like him. Even the walls bore inscriptions of his face. Everywhere she looked, his face was there. A stabbing pain gored ruthlessly at her. Then the door opened, and her boyfriend, Abhimanyu walked in. He was dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a white T-shirt. His pot belly dangled over his belt like an over-inflated balloon; a sharp contrast to Everest’s muscular and well-toned body. He had a flower in his hands – a bouquet of red roses – that glistened under the gaze of the fluorescent light. His face beamed with a smile too. He knelt before her and handed her the bouquet. On the side of the bouquet, packs of Toblerone chocolate were tucked in; Lydia’s favorite, but not even that would brighten her day. She managed a fake smile, hugging him with excitement – plastic excitement. “Thank you dear,” she said. “You are welcome my love. I have this for you,” he replied. He offered her a diamond ring that sparkled with intense brightness that would take any girl’s breath away. “Will you marry me, Lydia?” He asked. She closed her eyes as she searched for an answer. Deep within, she was disgusted – he was not what she wanted, except for the diamond ring. 

Shomaila turned on her laptop and logged on to Skype. She dialed Everest who answered promptly. “Hello love,” she said. Her long black, rich hair glistened on his monitor. Her eyes were alive with excitement and her lips, which she had just coated with lip gloss smiled at him invitingly. She was slender – like a model. He shape was the talk of the campus. It had been said amongst guys that Shomaila’s figure could make you sell your finest property just to catch a glimpse of her. She was feisty, bold and fiercely independent. “You look stunning!” Everest said. “Thanks! And you look…strong, brave, muscular…handsome! Yummy! I wish I could get my hands on you.” “You can. I could come over. Why punish ourselves staring at our images on the computer monitor when I could be at your door in minutes?” “I like a man who knows what he wants. Come right over my dear.” Everest jumped on the bus and headed over to her apartment. She quickly changed clothes, slotting her impeccable figure into a red Sari that revealed her belly with irresistible clarity. She counted down the minutes while she waited for him.

“I love you Abi…you know I do,” Lydia lied. “But, I am not…I am not ready for marriage yet.” She answered. There was a look of sadness on Abhimanyu’s face. “So, when will you be ready my love? I have been asking you for years now and you are never ready. Soon, you will graduate. Let’s get married and celebrate our time together…let’s make this official.” 

Lydia thought of Everest’s muscular arms around her and a wave of painful emotions swept through her. She stared angrily at Abhimanyu’s protruding belly that hung shapelessly, bending over his belt as he knelt before her. “Just give me a little more time, Abi,” she appealed to him with no plans whatsoever to say yes anything in future – or ever. “A little time?” He asked. There was a tinge of hope in his voice. “Yes, a little time my dear.” “Would you keep the ring? I think it will look good on you. Let it be a sign of what is to come between us,” he offered. The ring glimmered and smiled brightly under the influence of the light. Lydia’s heart skipped a little bit. She could hardly resist such an exquisite ring. “Yes, Abi…Yes, I will,” she answered. He slid the ring on her finger and she brought it closer to her face for a more detailed examination. It was truly gorgeous. The diamond beads appeared to jump excitedly at her, shimmering with radiant energy. “Thank you honey,” she bellowed. “My pleasure,” he replied as he rose to his feet. 

Shomaila could hear the earthquake erupting in her chest when there was a knock on her door. She could barely stand – out of excitement. Her legs shook with feverish anticipation as she walked the short distance to her front door. “My baby!” She shouted as she held the door open. Everest’s eyes were fixated on her exposed belly. He quickly walked into the apartment and took her in his arms. “Do you like my outfit?” She asked. “Of course I do,” he answered. Their lips met with powerful urgency…soon they were locked in a passionate kiss. “My parents are visiting next week,” she announced to him after a prolonged kiss that seemed to have lasted for eternity. “Really? I’d love to meet them,” Everest replied. He had other more pressing matters on his mind. He was busy yanking off her Sari so he could access her body. He pulled and tossed things with ravenous appetite. She succumbed to him as always with glee. 

How did I get here? Lydia wondered later that night as she lay beside Abi in bed. He was snoring like a male elephant while she was wide awake, pondering her life. She felt the ring on her finger with a mixture of anger, frustration and joy. She liked the ring and wanted to keep it, but she wanted nothing to do with marrying Abhimanyu. She wanted Everest by all means. I wish I could tell Abi that I don’t love him - I never have, she thought. My God, how do I end this relationship? This guy loves me to death, but I no longer want anything to do with him. He has put a roof over my head for six years; fed me in that time and clothed me as well. He is going to hang himself if I tell him that I want to end our relationship. Does he not see that I don’t love him? I don’t even let him touch me anymore, yet he stands by me. How long was it since the last time we were intimate with each other? Gosh!!! I don’t like his breathe. It reeks so badly. My goodness, what do I do? I bet Shomaila is in bed now with Everest now. I am going to kill that girl. I can’t let Everest slip through my fingers…I had him!!! What do I do? Lydia pondered her predicament all night long. 

“Papa and Mama, this is my boyfriend, Everest. Everest, these are my parents,” Shomaila announced. Her parents had arrived the previous day. “Nice to meet you,” Everest said as he stretched out his hand for a handshake. Despite their efforts to hide their disappointment, Shomaila’s parents could not fully mask it. “Nice to meet you,” they both said, managing a plastic smile. They all had dinner together in Shomaila’s apartment. It was awkward all evening. Everest made an attempt to have a chat with Shomaila’s parents, but they were almost unreachable – hiding behind an unseen but palpable pillar. 

“So, are you a Christian?” Shomaila’s father finally asked him. “Yes, I am.” “So, are you going to change to our religion?” “I have no such plan,” Everest answered. “Are you thinking about marrying my daughter?” “Maybe,” Everest answered. “What sort of an answer is that?” Her father asked, unable to hide his anger. “Papa, you have no right to interrogate my boyfriend like that,” Shomaila shot at her father. “You cannot talk to you father like that, Shomaila. Your father is looking after you interest,” her mother snapped at her. “I did not send you to London for you to forget your roots my child. You will graduate, come back to India and marry from a respectable family at home,” her father replied with audacity. “That is my choice, and not yours,” Shomaila answered him bravely. “What?” “I said it is not your choice papa.” 

Both her parents stopped eating. They rose to their feet, entered the bedroom and returned with their bags in hand. “We will be staying in a hotel for the rest of our stay,” her father announced. “I cannot have my own daughter talk to me impudently,” he added. “There is no need for this Mr. Zayad,” Everest said in an effort to calm the situation. “But I have a right to choose who I am going to marry!” Shomaila shouted in anger. “Let them go. It is my right. I have lived for you all my life papa. I went to the schools you wanted not the ones I wanted. I came to London because you wanted me to, not because I wanted to. Now, I have found love and you want to deny me that love? No way!” “Calm down honey. They are your parents. Just calm down for now,” Everest tried to calm Shomaila down. “I was told that young people travel abroad these days and forget their roots. I sent you here for your own good. I wish I had left you back in Bangalore. I am ashamed, Shomaila. Very ashamed of you,” her father said as he dragged his luggage out the door. His wife followed him staunchly. 

Shomaila began to cry out of frustration. Everest took her in his arms. “It is going to be alright,” he whispered into her ears. “Are you going to leave me because of this?” She asked. “Please don’t. I have a right to choose who I want to marry…Don’t you believe that?” She asked him pleadingly. “I do…I do, but you have to be gentle on your parents. They will not accept what you want because you want it. You have to allow them time to get used to it. Don’t appear too stubborn and disloyal to them. They are still your parents,” Everest explained. “You don’t know them honey. They will never bend to anything unless you force it down their throat, especially my father,” Shomaila explained. 

A few days later, it was snowing in London. Everest had not gone to the university. He opted to stay at home and rest. He had seen Shomaila the previous night. She and her parents were still at loggerheads. He went to see his friend Kunle in East London. He had been telling him all about the scenario over the phone. Kunle was a master’s student at the University of East London. “You should forget both girls, Everest,” Kunle advised. “Neither of them will ever marry you. Come on, they are Indians. Their parents will not allow them to marry you,” Kunle explained. “Not Shomaila. She will fight for whatever she wants. She seems like she is ready to disown her family for me.” “Is that what you want? Someday she will start missing them and she is going to turn on you. This is messy, however you look at it. Walk away.” “Are you saying that love does not really exist? That I cannot fall in love with an Indian girl, simply because I am African and vice versa?” Everest asked. 

“Is this love or mere infatuation?” Kunle asked. “Of course I love her!” Everest shouted. “Really? The other day you were head-over-heels in love with Lydia and overnight you switched to her friend Shomaila. Come on my friend, face reality. You are playing with burning coal. You are setting yourself up for a heartbreak. You are a good looking guy so the girls are infatuated with you for now. Soon, they will wake up and forget you – they will not give up their families for you.” “I don’t care about Lydia anymore. She will never do anything right. If her family says no, she will go with them. She has no guts, but Shomaila; she is something else.” “You seem to have too much faith in this girl.” “Yes I do.” As he lay on his bed watching TV, he thought of what Kunle had told him. Then, there was a knock on his door. He was not expecting anyone. He got up and opened the door. Lydia stood at the door, staring at him through misty eyes. She was wearing a short skirt that hung way above her knees, despite the biting winter cold. She had tight winter leggings on though. Her blouse was slightly loose, revealing her curves. “Hello,” she said to him.

Written by:
Victor Chinoo

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Nigeria's Leading Fictional Story Blog: Dressed in a pair of blue jeans, Sari, Snoring, Wanted him by all means, Christian, Marry, Father, Mother, Parents, Leggings, Blouse, TV, Heartbreak. An African Literary Blog
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