Post by Being Ready And Stable (BRAS) (@brashub)

NNEKA’S DIARY V

I sat there wondering, did Kunle recognize me? If he did, not even a hello.
Could it be he didn’t know I was coming? Was he not in cahoots with Angela and her husband? Questions kept running through my mind, but there was no one I could ask.
Lost in thought, I suddenly felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Can I sit?” a voice asked.
“With all pleasure,” I replied.
A man sat beside me. The fragrance alone was intimidating. One thing that easily attracts me to someone is a good scent.
“Nice fragrance,” I said.
“Thanks. I’m Kelvin.”
I looked properly at him and realized he wasn’t black.
“I’m Kelvin,” he repeated.
“Oh sorry, I’m Nneka.”
“Ineka,” he said with a funny accent.
I smiled.
Mr Philip later returned to sit beside his wife while they chatted. It was a table for four, and I kept hoping Kunle would stop by to say hello or at least talk to me.
Instead, Kelvin remained there.
I even excused myself and walked towards the entrance just to check if our table was visible from outside. When I returned, Angela asked if I needed anything.
“No, I was checking something,” I replied.
The look on her face suggested she wanted more explanation, but I ignored it.
I intentionally refused to give Kelvin too much attention because I didn’t want anything discouraging Kunle from coming close.
After all, according to my late brother Michael:
“A breast at hand is worth more than a hundred in the bra.” 🤣
Then I whispered to myself:
“But Nneka, are you sure this one no still dey bra?”
I started laughing quietly to myself until everyone at the table looked at me.
“Sorry,” I said quickly. “I saw something on my phone.”
How could I explain the nonsense happening inside my tiny mind?
That was when I noticed Kelvin and Mr Philip chatting.
Wait... they know each other?
Mr Philip turned to Angela.
“Honey, meet Kelvin. We were classmates in secondary school. Kunle, Kelvin, and I used to run things back then. His mum is British. He was born there but came back and joined us in JSS3.”
Angela greeted him.
“And this is Nneka, my wife’s friend.”
“We’ve met,” Kelvin said.
Mr Philip raised an eyebrow.
“You’ve met?”
Kelvin laughed.
“I mean we’ve introduced ourselves.”
“To yourselves,” Mr Philip corrected, laughing.
“I miss you bro,” Kelvin replied. “You haven’t changed.”
There was music, food, assorted drinks, and every type of meat imaginable.
I took barbecue and a soft drink.
When wine was shared around, I declined.
Kelvin tried convincing me.
“I don’t take alcohol,” I said.
Immediately, my mind traveled back ten years.
After my first year in university, I visited my friend Nkemji during Christmas. A palm wine tapper had just arrived and curiosity carried me away. The drink was sweet, too sweet.
By the time I was going home, the ground had started rising to meet my legs.
Nkemji practically dragged me home and sneaked me into my room. Unfortunately for us, my mum caught her. Cold water, one hot slap.
And plenty promises from me that I would never drink alcohol again.
Since that day, even throughout university, I never touched it again no matter how much my friends called me “small girl.”
As I returned from my memories, Kelvin asked: “Why?”
“Why what?” I said.
“Why don’t you drink alcohol?”
“Nothing. It’s just not my thing.”
Inside my mind, I added:
Get thee behind me, Satan… abi Kelvin? 😊

To be continued.

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