TRAPPED...Part 19.

"Stella, when are you calling us?"

For a moment, I wondered what she meant. "Calling you for what, Mama?"

"Your wedding, of course." The seriousness in her voice was unmistakeable. This was no joke. I let out a laugh at my end of the line.

"So, you want me to go to the street, catch a man, tie his neck with a rope and bring him to you, abi?"

It was her turn to laugh.

"Mama, I don't know what you want again o! I have given you a grandchild..."

"Out of wedlock?" Her question stung. The ensuing silence was interrupted by the occasional cough at her end.

"Stella nwa m, I did not mean to insult or offend you. But you are not getting any younger. The bible said that it is not good for a woman to be alone..."

I cut in quickly. "That's not what the bible said. It said 'man' not 'woman'."

"Are they not the same thing? What I mean is that marriage will make you more respected."

"Really? Hmmm, Mama. Some men are devils o! They will just cut your life short."

The memories came flooding back. Jide almost ruined my life. If I was married to him and he was still alive, maybe I would have been dead. If only Mama knew.

But she was partly right. The loneliness could be depressing sometimes. Seeing happy couples holding hands and playing love worsens the pain. I have begun to ask myself series of questions. Am I not equally entitled to happiness? Is it a crime to wish to be loved? What is wrong with me? My love adventure has been bitter-sweet. Bitter more than sweet. I have never housed a man all my life. So, why did I let Jide in? Why was I serenaded by his charm that I let go of common sense? He came, he saw and he destroyed. The pain and hurt of the moment could not equate with the brief stints of pleasure with him. Dan, the sweetness I knew was getting married. The completeness I felt whenever he was around was enough proof that I needed a man. Vicky needed a father figure in her life.

I had two major challenges, though. My daughter was just five and at a critical period of her development. She needed every parental attention she could get. She had been that silver lining in my cloud, my wellspring of hope. Then, the issue of my HIV status. I dialed Nkechi.

"Mama is mounting unnecessary pressure on me o!" I said, as soon as she picked. She started laughing.

"You think it is funny, abi?"

"No oh!" She was still laughing. "Whenever she starts her marriage preaching, I remind her that you are the elder sister and that you ought to get married first."

"Oh! So na you dey cause all this wahala?" I felt like giving her a knock on the head.

"But come o! Why are you not searching sef? Eh? You don't go out. Fine babe like you. Every time you dey carry baby up and down."

I didn't know whether to take her statement as an insult or mere talk.

"How can I go out when I have Vicky to take care of? You know I can't bring a man to the house."

"Ok. See the deal. I will come over and stay with you to help look after Vicky. You will start dating again. Agreed?"

I paused for a moment. I had mixed feelings about dating.

"You are not even serious." She gave a long hiss.

"Ok. Agreed." I said, reluctantly. "Thank you."

True to her word, she came over with her bags the next day. Vicky was ecstatic. She soon noticed the empty cot.

"How is Uche doing?"

"Very fine. He has started walking small small."

"Ehe!" she said in amazement, clapping her hands.

Moments later, she brought up the topic. "So, this dating thing. What is your game plan?"

"Game plan, kwa?" I asked, surprised. My dating game was obsolete.

"You need a plan. A formidable one." She thought for a moment. "You need to start making yourself visible in circles where you meet men. Weddings. Ceremonies. Church. Which group do you belong to in church?"

"None," I said.

"The church is a place where you can meet good, God-fearing men. Do you still sing?"

"Only to myself," I said, smiling. I was the lead chorister in our village choir many years back.

"You should join the choir. But first, we need to change this your hair. In fact, you need a total makeover."

"Na your department o! Abeg, do am free of charge." She burst into laughter.

She was a burgeoning make-up artist. By the next day, I was looking different. I could feel the stares from men trailing me as I passed them on the road. My self-esteem climbed new heights. I found out the day for choir practice and went. I sat with the sopranos in front and sang unabashedly. The choir master, a tall, well-built fellow, kept looking in my direction. He was very talented and could sing all the parts. Towards the end of the practice, he asked that I introduce myself. I did and they welcomed me with a song. It felt like family. 

As I made to leave after the practice, he walked up to me.

"You have an amazing voice." I was blushing.

"Thank you. And you are so talented." He smiled.

"I am Akinola. Everyone calls me AK."

"AK-47!" I said, jokingly. "I like that." He raised his hands in mock protest.

We chatted gleefully as he walked me home.

We soon became very good friends. He was in his mid-thirties and was admired by all the young girls in the church. A good number joined the choir just to get his attention. He invited me to house severally. I refused, citing several excuses. One Sunday afternoon, after much prodding from Nkechi, I obliged him. He was living in a one-bedroom apartment, tastefully furnished. There were murals on the walls with framed paintings. A keyboard was on a stand at one end of the room.

"Your place is nice."

"Thanks,"he said, smiling. "Finally, you are here." He grinned mischievously. "Make yourself comfortable." He disappeared into the kitchen. 

I went to the piano and ran my fingers through the keys repeatedly. I loved the sound. Suddenly, I felt someone hold me from behind. It felt wierd. 

"Stella." It was his voice. But there was something strange about him. I struggled to break free and moved towards the bed.

"What is wrong with you?" I asked, furious. "I have not even gotten here."

He looked remorseful and quickly apologised. He offered me some drinks which I promptly refused.

"Stella, why nau?" He looked hurt.

"I am fasting," I said. It was a convenient lie.

Halfway, into our discussion, he edged closer to where I was sitting.

"You wan start again, abi?" I said, but it was too late.

In an instant, he grabbed me ferociously like a possesed animal. We struggled as he rolled me over, his hands pinning my arms to the bed.

"AK, what is this madness?" I said, exasperated. "I will shout o!"

"No one will hear you. The door is sound-proof." He sounded determined. I could feel his left leg pushing apart my thighs. He has managed to lift my skirt.

"AK, stop! I beg you in the name of God." He merely laughed.

His turgid bulge was pressing upon my crotch.

"AK, I am HIV positive. Please stop!"

"Na lie." His voice was cold. I felt my body going limp under him.

"Ok. Relax. I agree. We will do it. But let us go slowly, please." I kissed his lips reassuringly. He smiled and released my arms. I caressed his head.

"Do you have protection?" I asked, smiling naughtily. He responded with a wink.

"Let me bring it. I will be back shortly."

"Take your time," I said. "I want to undress." 

He rose and went into the bathroom.

In a split second, I jumped up from the bed, grabbed my purse and ran. As I bounded down the stairs, I could hear him shouting my name. In a moment, I was on the street. I ran barefoot on the tarred road, as fast as my leg could carry me. Out of breath, I stopped at a kiosk, doubled over, panting. The people on the street looked at me strangely, some shaking their heads, others laughing. I stopped a motorcycle and reeled off the directions to my house.

The search was over.

© Kelvin Alaneme, 2015.

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