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Nigeria's leading fictional story blog - kiss, job, London, Great Portland Street tube station, train, Lagos, favorite spot in the city – Trafalgar Square, Cadbury.

I smiled but deep down inside, I was crying. I could not bear to live far away from her. She was the air that I breathed and the sun that evaporated my morning dew…the sparkle in my soul. She could tell that I was not happy. Soon, we finished our meal and left her parents who wanted to visit Westminster Abbey. We walked towards the tube station. As soon as we headed underground, away from her parents’ eyes, she pushed me to the wall of the entrance and began to kiss me. I grabbed her and kissed hard as though it was the last time. Then, we let go of each other and walked to the platform. “Are you really heading home?” I asked incredulously. “Yes…we not just me,” she answered. “But I don’t have a father who can make a call and get me a job at Cadbury or WAMCO or NASCO Foods, so I am not heading home anytime soon, honey,” I protested.

 “I know that. I can have my dad call someone up somewhere for you. Just name it.” “But I don’t want favors from your father or anyone else. I can make it here…we can make it here.” “I know, but does it really matter Nna? Think about it. You and I will settle into our dream jobs at home. I don’t want to go anywhere without you. Please don’t be stubborn.” I guess I am too stubborn. I hate to call in favors when I can work for myself. Besides I did not like the idea of relying on my girlfriend’s father for a job. I hated the favoritism in Nigeria, which was part of the reason I left home. Now, I was faced with a dilemma. I loved Onyinye far too much to let go of her, but I was not ready to have her father pull strings for me to get a job.

A few months later, Onyinye was crying at Heathrow airport. “I will be back in a few weeks to see you honey. You know you can change your mind any time. Please let me talk to my father on your behalf,” she pleaded. I wanted to cry too…I have to confess. I held her close to me. Her soothing fragrance wafted into my nostrils. I was utterly mesmerized. Her bright and bold eyes peered at me begging me to change my mind. I loved her far too much but I was not willing to shed my pride. I could hear a part of me yelling madly as she left. I watched her walk past the security operatives and into the departure area, disappearing into the distance as I watched. Tears circled my eyes. The feeling of emptiness engulfed me as I turned and walked towards the train station.

The ride back to the city on the Piccadilly line was traumatizing. There was a couple kissing non-stop on the train. Each time I looked at them, I muttered to myself, “Poor me!” Hours later, I was on the phone chatting with Onyinye. She arrived safely in Lagos. A week later, she was at Cadbury while I still worked the streets of London job-hunting. We Skyped, Face-timed, called and texted endlessly. I am surprised I did not even develop ‘ulcer of the finger’ from texting or go blind from staring at her beautiful face on my laptop from our numerous Skype sessions.

“When are you coming home, honey?” Onyinye would always ask me. “When are you returning to London?” I would shoot back at her. It became increasingly more difficult for the two of us as the months went by. One evening, I was at my part-time job while still searching for a more permanent one when Onyinye appeared at my desk. She had taken a few days off work to fly to London. My boss was nearby, but I didn’t even care. I nearly ripped off her clothes. I jumped off my seat and grabbed her like a policeman in ‘Naija’ grabbing egunje (kickback) from a motorist. Gently, her succulent lips pressed against mine and tongue worked magic. I could feel myself shaking like new arrivals in London during winter. “Eerrm!!” My boss said in an effort to remind me that I was still at work. He knew about Onyinye and I so, he was understanding.

“When did you get here?” I asked. “Just now. You had told me you’d be working, so I figured I could come straight here…after dropping my bag at your place.” She still had a spare key to my apartment. She spent the next two hours with me as I finished off my shift. My boss let me off some minutes earlier as well, so we both walked arm-in-arm to the Great Portland Street tube station from where we took a train to our favorite spot in the city – Trafalgar Square. We sat on the steps of the British Museum with snacks in hand and watched the evening sun recede behind the clouds. Pigeons made their presence felt as they took off and perched, and then took off again on the hunt for scraps left behind by tourists.

“I spoke to my boss about you and he is willing to consider you for a position that will become open in a few weeks. You have to come home with me. He is willing to help if you are willing to be on ground for the interview,” Onyinye explained. “It was not your father who spoke to him?” I asked. She shook her head. “We need to be together, Nnamdi. We cannot continue like this forever. I love you with every breath that I draw and I know you love me too. Please, do this for me.” She looked me in the eye. Her eyes were begging me to say yes. I leaned towards her and kissed her. My eyes were shut while my lips and hers got acquainted for a prolonged period of time. “I will give it a try, but if I find out your dad was behind it,” I will walk away from it because I have had some promising interviews here,” I explained. “My dad has nothing to do with it,” Onyinye insisted.

I flew back to Lagos and in less than two months, I had a job at Cadbury. We worked in separate departments, but it was great to catch up with her at lunch. We spent the weekends with friends or by ourselves on the beach. In our world today, most people are desperately seeking for love and some people are busy breaking hearts. Each time I think of that moment when Onyinye drew me closer to herself and kissed me, marking the beginning of our relationship, I thank God for her…for bringing her into my life. Our love grew in strength with each passing day. I decided to propose to Onyinye. I didn’t want it to be an ordinary proposal. I took time to plan it to the letter. She was impeccably dressed for church as always. I arrived shortly after she got there. She had reserved a seat for me beside her. I sank into the seat and gave her a peck. I had gotten an apartment a bit further from where she stayed with her parents. Before the pastor began the sermon, he said, “I have a specific message for you Miss Onyinye Chijindu.” She was surprised.

Onyinye turned and looked at me. I feigned ignorance. “Please could you walk to the altar?  I have to pray for you specially,” the pastor added.  She obliged him. Like a princess, she sauntered to the altar. My heart was beating as I watched her mount the altar. “Please kneel down there and close your eyes,” the pastor requested. There was a padded section on the floor to protect her knees. She dug her knees in, bowed her head and closed her eyes. Quickly, I ran to the altar and quietly knelt behind her. Her best friends Iruka, Ngozi and Bimbo made their way to the altar and stood to her right. Bimbo had flown in from London. My friends, Okezie, Ozemena, Emenike and George stood on the left. Ozemena and Okezie had just arrived from London the previous night. Onyinye had no idea they were in the country let alone in church. Then, her parents, whom I had spoken to already to seek their permission to marry her took their position beside me.

I held a ring in hand as I knelt on one knee while my other leg squatted. Then the church rose quickly to their feet and began to sing, Sunny Neji’s Oruka:

Oruka ti d'owo naa
Di ololufe re mu
K'o s'eni to le ya mi titi lai

Oruka ti d'owo naa
Di ololufe re mu
K'o s'eni to le ya mi titi lai

Titi lai lai lai lai lai lai lai lai lai

He who finds a wife has found a good thing
And obtains favor from the Lord
You've found the harmony to the song you sing
You can do anything you wanna, cmon

“You can stand now,” the pastor said to Onyinye. She was somewhat confused. Instead of a prayer, the entire church was singing. When she opened her eyes, she was shocked…in a good way. “Rise to your feet and turn,” the pastor instructed. When she turned, she found me smiling as my heart pounded. The elegant ring glistened in my hand as I held it up. Onyinye’s parents smiled from ear to ear. Onyinye’s friends had red roses in their hands which they held towards her. She began to cry. “Onyinye Chijindu, will you marry me?” I asked. “Yes…Yes!” She answered. I slid the ring on her finger and we hugged. “Thank you…thank you for doing all that for me,” she said into my ears as tears of joy flowed down her face. “It is my absolute pleasure sweetheart,” I answered. We got married four months later. Every day has been honeymoon ever since. Our picture from the London eye still hangs over our bed today, reminding me to kiss my wife in the morning before we both leave for work and before we head off to bed at night. With a kiss on the elevator, Onyinye won my heart with indescribable love...a long and beautiful kiss!

The above story was written by Nnamdi Abali (actual name withheld) and was edited by moofyme.com editorial team. Nnamdi Abali stumbled on our blog and since then has been addicted to it. He sent in this story to share with us his experience. He hopes you like it and encourage his burgeoning writing passion.


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Nigeria's leading fictional story blog - kiss, job, London, Great Portland Street tube station, train, Lagos, favorite spot in the city – Trafalgar Square, Cadbury.
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