A JOB AND A SARAH

I went back to the nursery school, this time as an admin officer. The salary was lower than what I received working in a crèche.

When I pointed it out to the proprietress, she said if it wasn't good enough for me, I could leave, because hundred other applicants would be glad to replace me.

She said the reason I got the job in the first place was because mom came and solicited for me. I apologized and told her I was grateful to have the job. 

I would have stayed on that job for eternity if not for the chess competition we had at Hilltop School the next year. I played with one of their staff, a white guy, Stephen. He had beaten me twice, but this time I played with all the frustrations and anger I felt inside. 

I won the game. 

Stephen was surprised. He asked for a rematch after the game, and I beat him again. The third game convinced and humbled him, and we became friends. He suggested we meet periodically to play, and I agreed. 

He asked about my hand in what of the games we played, and I told him what happened. I thought that would be the end of our friendship, but he said he will try and see if the management of Hilltop can create a room for me to come in as a teacher. For a whole month I did not sleep properly; Hilltop pays in dollars!

But nothing happened for another year I stayed in the nursery school running errands for the proprietress and for the school. In December of that year, Stephen's sister came to visit. The first day I met her, we became friends.

She asked me what happened to my finger, and I was so embarrassed I couldn't tell her what happened. But she insisted, holding the hand into her own, stroking the stump, and I was forced to narrate my story again.

She went back to the States at the end of the festivity, and we kept in touch. She called one day and in the course of our discussion, she said she wanted to stay in Nigeria. I thought that was the cue I needed, and I asked her if she would marry me. 

There was a long pause at the other end of the line.

'Can I get back to you?' she asked. 'Give me a day to clear my head?'

'Sure,' I said, the disappointment rich in my voice.

She hung up and I beat myself like I have never done before.

What were you thinking? I thought. You have nine fingers, and you are black. What makes you think she will marry you? Whatever gave you that idea? What would Stephen think? Will our relationship be the same? What a fool I was to jeopardize our relationship for my selfish reasons!

Throughout that day my heart was in my mouth. I kept the phone handy, with anticipation gnawing at every part of my mind. I was sure she will never call again.

But she called around eleven that night and I picked the phone with shaky hands.

'Sarah, I am sorry I—'

'Did you say you want to marry me?' She asked.

'I...I...yes...but I am sorry if I have—'

'Can I speak please?' Sarah said, interrupting. 

I remained silent, hearing my heart thumbing in my ribs.

'Did you say you want to marry me?' 

'Yes.'

'Why?'

'Why? Why what?'

'Why do you want to marry me?'

'I don't know,' I said. 'There are many reasons...it's not just one thing.'

'Can you tell me some of them?'

'You are kind and beautiful and you are shameless...'

She giggled.

'And I want to take care of you from now until we grow old,' I said. 'I want to be the one to walk you to the market and stay with you in the kitchen to cook the meals together. I want to be wherever you are all the days of my life.'

This time the silence came from her end. 

'Would you marry another wife when you become rich or when you become a chief in your village?'

I laughed. 'There will be no second wife, not now, not forever. Trust me.'

There was another pause before she said: 'How will you take care of me? You are not earning much, are you?'

I made no reply. I knew this was the deal breaker and I didn't blame her for asking. I was still staying with my mom and what I was earning was just good enough to pay my transport and pay my phone bill. Apart from that, the salary did nothing more. 

'Paul,' Sarah asked. 'Are you there?'

'Yes.' 

'Anyway, I have spoken to Stephen,' she said. 'That's why I asked you to give me some time to think about your proposal.' 

So, she has spoken to Stephen, I thought. What does he think?'

'He said it was alright,' Sarah said. 'In fact, he said he would recommend you to marry me.'

'He said that?' I asked. 

'He did,' Sarah said and laughed. 'I was surprised myself. He said you have a good heart; that you are dependable.'

'He said that?'

'Those were his words.'

I smiled like an opened calabash. 'Okay. Now what? Are you saying yes to my question?'

'Not yet,' Sarah said rather quickly. 'We have not found the solution to how you would take care of a family.'

'Oh, that,' I said. 

'Yeah, that,' Sarah said, the tone of her voice serious. 'I also discussed that with Stephen. He said he had spoken to the principal of Hilltop to disengage him by the end of the year so you can take over his position.

The principal has agreed, although you will have to go through an interview and a training for a month, but Stephen said he doesn't think that will be a problem. He has also suggested that I should be given a job if a vacancy opens up and the principal has also agreed to that.'

I was nonplussed. 

'They will start you on a salary of 1,000 dollars per month,' Sarah said. 'And if I eventually join the school, our income with come to two thousand dollars. Do you think we can start a family on two thousand dollars a month?'

I knew then all the talk was just a scheme to make me look as foolish as a dodo. Who was I kidding that I would marry someone like Sarah?

Sarah's voice cracked through my thoughts. 'Will two thousand dollars keep us for a month?'

I bit my lower lip. 'Sarah, why are you doing this to me? If your answer is no, why do you have to mock me with all these stories? I am not that stupid to fall for what you are saying.'

There was a long silence. 

'Paul?' Sarah said.

'Yes?'

'I will marry you.'

'What?'

'My answer is yes! I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I have spoken to my parents, and they have given their consent; so, it's a total yes!'

'Are you serious? Do you really want to marry me?'

'Yes! Yes!! Yes!!!'

'But why? I am black and I have nine fingers.'

Sarah laughed. 'I don't care if you are yellow, brown or blue and I don't care if you have eleven fingers. I know I love you and would like to spend the rest of my life with you; that's all that matters.'

But that was not to be.