PARTNER'S DEAL

The next morning, Maria and I left the house for the park. Mom lingered for close an hour, waiting for us to leave the house before she set out for the office. Maria told me—as we walked to the road to take a taxi—that she had changed her mind about going back to Port Harcourt. She will go to Abuja instead and stay with a cousin for a day or two. 

'I will take you to where Abuja vehicles are,' I said, looking out for a taxi to take us to the Plateau Riders Park.

'Okay,' she said. She was dressed in another hugging jean and another hugging blouse. 'But I want us to talk before I leave. Can we get a place to sit and talk?'

I thought for a while. 'It's early,' I said. 'Let's check if Mr. Biggs at Terminus is opened. We can walk to the park from there.'

'Okay.' 

We took a cab and got to Terminus about fifteen minutes later. Mr. Biggs wasn't opened, but we could see the staff mopping the floor through the windows. I asked the guard standing by the entrance when the doors will be opened.

'By eight,' he said.

'Twelve more minutes,' Maria said.

'Add another five minutes,' I said. 'Even corporations don't keep their words about time in this country.'

'What do we do?' Maria asked.

I sighed. 'Let's hang awhile. But can you stand the cold?'

'Why not? Can't you see the fats I have?'

We stood in the cold and watched the cars passing by and traders bringing out their goods to the roadside. Maria fumbled in her bag—like most ladies do when waiting by the road—and brought out an envelope. She opened it and brought out a folded white paper. She stretched it out to me.

'What's this? I asked. I brought my hand out of my trouser's pocket and collected it.

'Read it,' she said. A smile had crept on the corners of her mouth.

I unfolded the paper and saw that it was addressed to Maria. My eyes moved down the sheet and rested on the words, letter of appointment. I raised my head and looked at Maria.

'You got a job?' I said, my voice loud and excited. 

Maria nodded, smiling. 'I got a job!'

'Where?'

'Go through it,' she said, the smile on her face broadened. 'Read it.'

My eyes returned to the letter. It was from Catcol limited. I have never heard of them, but as I read through, I saw that they offered Maria a HR position for the whooping amount of three million naira per annum.

'Wow,' I cried when I got to the figure. 'That's like two hundred and fifty thousand naira a month!'

'It's two sixty thousand, actually.'

'What? How did you get it?'

'I applied and had an interview with them six months ago,' Maria said. 'I didn't hear from them, and I assumed I wasn't picked. But they called a week ago and told me to come pick my appointment letter.'

'Wow,' I said, dumbstruck. I felt a tinge of jealousy rising up from my bosom, but I killed it quickly. Maria had had her equal share of suffering in the labor market and deserves a little good luck. She was—as I am—long overdue for a job. 

'Let's get inside,' she said, cutting off my thoughts. 'They are opened,' she looked at her wristwatch, 'and dot on time.' 

I chuckled and we walked through the opened door held by the guard. He greeted us again and we found a seat by the corner and sat. The smell of meat pie and doughnuts filled the air. 

'What do you want to eat?' Maria asked. Her voice sounded like it was coming from another room. 

'Meat pie and Coke will do,' I said. 'But I am buying.'

'No, I have some change here; it should cover for whatever we are eating.'

'It's either I buy or I don't eat,' I said, stretching out a one-thousand-naira bill. 'You are my guest.'

She rolled her big eyes and collected the one thousand naira. She walked to the counter and my eyes returned to the letter in my hand. I looked at it the way a hungry person would look at the picture of pounded yam and vegetable soup.

Maria has hit a gold mine, I thought. She is set for life.

Maria returned presently and placed the red colored tray in front of us. 'It's damn cold in here,' she said, sitting down. I said nothing; my eyes had gone back to the figures on the letter. 

'You are made,' I said. 'You are totally middle class now.'

'We are made,' she said.

She picked the bottle of Coke, uncorked it and placed it before me. Then she opened the bottle of Maltina and placed it in front of her. She gave me one of the meat pies and held the second. 

I kept the meat pie on the tissue on the tray, folded the letter and placed it on the table. I picked the meat pie and took a bite. 

'Like I said,' Maria said after a bite, 'we are made. We are together in this struggle. We suffered together; we should enjoy together.' She smiled and took another careful bite. Then with the mouthful, she said: 'This progress belongs to us; it's our windfall.'

'It's not a windfall, you know,' I said. 'You will earn every naira of that money. No company gives you that kind of money and allows you to sit your butt.'

'I know, I know. But it's better than not having a job, isn't it?'

I laughed. 'You can say that again. You can say that a million times.'

'Like I was saying,' Maria said after I stopped laughing. 'We can share this money; not all of it has to be mine.'

I drank from the Coke bottle. 'What do you want to do? Employ me as your PA?'

She laughed. 'Be serious.' Her eyes ran over my face. 'I can't employ you—that's for sure. But we can be partners. We can work together and create the kind of future we want.'

I stopped chewing and placed the remaining meat pie on the tray. My body heart sank in despair. I looked away from Maria, my eyes going to the door and back to the tray on our table. 

'Paul,' Maria said, her voice imploring, persuasive. 'We can be partners and share whatever we have. Let's get married and have a start at life—we are not young anymore to beat around the bush. And...and even if you don't have a job, we can save from my salary, and you can start a business to increase our income. Within five years I am sure we will have a very comfortable family.'

Mr. Potter's words came back, flooding over my mind like spilled crude oil over the Niger Delta creeks. Maria's big eyes stared at me with expectancy, but I took my eyes from her and stared through the window.

An uncomfortable silence sat with us.

'What about Eric?' I asked at last.

'Eric is dead,' she said, leaning forward. 'He is dead, Paul, and there is nothing we can do about it. Even if I was married to him, he is gone and can never come back to this world.'

I couldn't look at her; my eyes trailed the passersby through the window and for more than a minute, the silence lingered between us. Maria dropped the meat pie and learned back on the chair. 

'You are not interested, right?' she asked.

I stared at the window. It was the sniffles that drew my eyes back to her face and I saw her cheeks wet with tears. She cleaned them away.

'Maria,' I said. 'There is no reason to cry...you will find someone...'

She cleaned her eyes again, but the tears came down in a hurry as if an enemy pursued them. I looked at the two ladies beside us, charting like canaries a minute ago. They had stopped talking and their eyes were fixed on Maria and I. I turned my eyes away from their icy glares and looked at Maria.

'Maria,' I whispered. 'It will work out; you will be alright. You will find someone better...someone...right ...'

Maria cleaned her eyes again. 'Paul, who's going to marry you with one of your fingers gone? Have you thought about that? Which woman will want to marry you?'

I felt the muscle on my face tightened and I stared at her. 'I think we should go,' I said and stood up. 'We are done with this conversation. You should be on your way.'

She cleaned her eyes again with the back of her right hand, smearing the makeup on her face in the process. She picked the appointment letter lying by her left hand and stuffed it into her bag. She cleaned her eyes again and stood up. I turned and walked toward the door. The two ladies gave me a contemptuous look that almost spurred me to remind them to mind their businesses.

Maria joined me outside and we walked to the Plateau Riders Park without saying much to each other. We reached the park and I found out what the fare to Abuja was and told Maria. I wanted to pay but what I had on me wasn't half of the fare. She walked to the bus and dropped her bag on the seat directly behind the driver's seat. She walked back and stood beside me, her eyes keeping away from my face.

'So...' she said.

'So...have a safe trip.'

'Okay,' she said. Her eyes primed up with tears again and she lowered her head. She walked back to the bus, and I thought she was picking a handkerchief or tissue to clean the eyes, but she returned with a paper in her hand and stretched it to me. I took the paper and saw a phone number written on it.

'Call me when you get a new number,' she said. 'As a friend.'

'Okay,' I said. 

I stuffed the piece of paper in my pocket. 'So...'

'Thank your mom and your brothers for me,' she said. 

'Okay. Have a safe trip.'

She nodded. 'Take care.'

I nodded.

She tried to smile when our eyes met but that failed, and her face took a crying formation. 'Call me when you get a phone.'

I nodded. 'Okay.'

'Bye,' she said and looked at the ground.

'Bye.'

I turned and walked out of the park without looking back. My left hand found the piece of paper Maria gave me and squeezed it into a ball-shaped mass. I dropped it on the ground when I got to the gate and crossed to the other side of the road, running pass a Plateau Riders' bus returning from a journey. 

I shook my head. 'I will not spend the rest f my life having Eric's ghost hover over me because I took his girl.'