Shooting His Shot
Mercy got on her feet, took some steps then turned at her.
“There is a problem.” She said.
Jamil had barely come out the car when the front door of Justin’s mansion opened and Mercy came out. As she stepped out, the sun reflected on her and he saw her complexion clearly. He did not know the exact word to use in describing it but it reminded him of his usual formula for making tea: two full spoons of powdered milk and one spoon of Nescafe: That light brown colour.
Her long gown gave her that majestic royal touch, with calculated even steps, the legs in a definite pattern, each leading the other and he felt like melting before evaporating to solidify right beside her.
As she tried to use her slim beautiful palm to block the sun rays that directly hit her alluring aesthetically pleasing eyes, she caught the picture of a princess searching for one of her subjects and Jamil wanted to be that subject, to have the chance of serving a royalty. Her slim, curvy shape tried to hide but the wind gave it away, blowing and making her veil mold her body. Jamil was surer now that he wanted this girl for himself. It was a feeling that he had never felt. He just hoped she would not tell him that there was someone.
“Assalamu alaikum.” She greeted.
“Ameen wa alaikum salam warahmatullah wabarakatuhu.”
She smiled at his full response. That smile that made his intestines dance shoki.
“I hope you did not find it hard to locate the house?”
“No. I did not use the address you gave me.” He said.
“What did you use then?”
“My heart detect signals from your heart.” He said. “ I used my heart to locate your heart. They have a connection.”
She blushed, still feeling something holding her back. It was just there, telling her it was not going to work.
“And your heart never fails me.” He said looking directly into her eyes, “the network never fails, never out of service, and so accurate. I am stuck to this network, no turning off but flowing on a direct line…..a life line. You are a paragon of unadulterated beauty, damn inequities cause impeccability is divine and your imperfection is negligible. I am sinking, drowning, and I see just one life line, Mercy.
I extend my hand, save a life and drag me out with your love, smile, cause I trust you with my soul.“
Mercy was lost for a few seconds, confused and not knowing how to react. This guy was punishing her, oppressing her resistance power, telling her that he was powerful. His eyes did some of that, the buccaneering radiation, the swaggering beards and low moustache, his brio, his personality. But where was this leading to?
Mercy, do not let yourself get hurt again. He might not mean to hurt you, but the hurt might be there, lurking, waiting and hitting where it hurt. Mercy, not again. Save the broken parts of what is left as a heart.
“Come inside,” was all she could say.
She led him into the palatial living room. Justin was there to welcome him. Jamil extended his hand but Justin declined. There was a second of panic and embarrassment. What was that? Justin frowned.
“Youngman” Justin said, “I am of the older generation and it is unethical for you to come and seek for the hands of my daughter in marriage and offer a handshake first. I did not do that to her father, look at her mother here.” He pointed at Petra.
“Then there was no Izala so I knelt down, ko Mamman Mercy?”
They all laughed and the tension was eased. Justin shook the hand.
“Ya Justin, who said he came to seek for my hands in marriage?” Mercy said.
“I am a guy joh.” He said. “which contract have you guys been signing all these while? You will say there are errors to be corrected, I will say okay. He will say there was a place with no capital letter. Na English class?”
They laughed again but Jamil was feeling slightly shy.
“This is the guy who saved me from the accident scene.”
“You guys are blessed with tangible, substantial excuses. From proposal to hospital. I met the gentleman. That was the day I blessed the union. I left Wasiya (a will) that even if I am no more, the wedding should go on.”
“Ya Justin? Which wedding? Ha’an! “
“I think I have a great father-in-law .” Jamil said. “And a great mother-in-law too.”
Petra posed.
“Thank you my son.” She said.
“Tab! Petra harda ke( including you)?” Mercy said with a pout jokingly. “You know me ai.”
Justin created the air of jokes, fun and freedom. But Jamil was shocked when Mercy said, “Jamil, this is our chairman.”
“You mean Mr Jubril?” He said, guessing he may be two years older than Justin. No. He was six years older but he did not know that. “It is a privilege sir.”
“If you call me sir again, I will return your dowry.”
“I am sorry sir”
“He said it again.”
“I was confused my guy.”
“Better.”
“Which dowry?” Mercy asked.
“Wait, which money did you think we have been using to eat chicken pepper soup and ice-cream these days?” Justin said and they laughed.
Petra liked Jamil and saw that Justin liked him too. They saw that chemistry between them, and somehow, they matched as a couple. They had a lunch, prepared by Mercy and Petra. While they ate, Jamil fell in love with them. He hoped he could get married to Mercy and be with them.
After the meal, they shared some jokes before Justin went upstairs. Petra excused herself and followed. Mercy knew it was a set-up. They were giving them space. Jamil and Mercy were now left alone in the living room, except the house help who was going in and out of the kitchen. She wanted to know if Aunty Mercy was going for a second marriage. She would go in, peek, pick a cup, come out, peek, drop the cup, go back; open the tap…..the life of a gossip was hectic.
“I love this couple and the guy impressed me.” He said. “The chairman?”
“Yes. He also own Naanan.”
“Damn! Masha Allah. He is humble. The love between you and Petra is marvelous.”
“She is more than just a friend.” She said. “More than a sister. No words.”
“I understand. Mercy….”
“Na’am.”
“I think it is high time I told you this…….”
Her phone rang and he was interrupted. She did not recognize the number.
“Hello.” She said.
“Mercy…..I was told you were here. I am outside.”
She heard Sule’s voice for the first time since they divorced.
Outside where?” Mercy asked.
“Jubril's house. I went to your house and was told you were here.” He sounded so cool and apologetic.
Mercy looked at Jamil.
“Excuse me please. I think there is someone here to see me. I will be back soon insha Allah.”
Jamil nodded, wondering who the spoiler was. He was almost there.
“Okay, ma'am.”
“I told you to stop calling me that.”
“I am sorry.” He apologized.
“Better.”
She got on her feet, he gawked at her as she walked out. Oh no! He wanted her. He was going to fight to have her.
*******************************
Sule was dressed in a brown brocade with a very expensive design. He had just seen the barber, and he knew he was looking his best. He sat in his Lexus SUV, listening to John Legend when he saw her come out through the gate.
Kut! Was this the girl he let out of his life? The sweet Mercy, a wife who knew how best to treat him. She never slept from dusk to dawn, or have a cough and swallow a whole bottle of Tutolin with codeine.
This was Mercy, a friend and listener, one who was there to talk to and not one who all matters ended in bed. All those tasty miyan kubewa and tuwo she made, fried rice and porridge, she even dabbled into Igbo soup with leaves, stock fish, crayfish, those pastries at weekends; homemade ice-cream, meat-pie, burgers and sausages. Mercy, never waiting until 8:30 am before she woke up to pray. His sweet Mercy.
She saw him and he studied her face. She looked calm. She came out and walked towards him. He opened the passenger's side door in anticipation but she came to his side instead.
“Assalamu alaikum.” She said and her voice hit him with the strength of a tsunami. He was swept off his feet, as if the force raised him and his car into the air. Okay, he had to confess she looked more beautiful than ever.
“Ameen wa alikum salam.” He replied in a cool voice. “how are you Mercy?”
“Alhamdulillah.” She replied.
He could see that the love was still there. She was not wearing a stern face.
“Please come inside the car.” He said. “It is sunny.”
“Thank you but I am good.” She replied. “How are you?”
“Well, we thank God.”
“How is your wife?” she asked.
He almost said she was sleeping then refrained.
“Alhamdulillah.” He said. He did not want her to talk about that part.
There was a brief silence. ........