The Stories I Tell...

   A woman and her daughters. She sits on the tiled floor with her back against the wall. She is clothed in a wrapper which is tied around her waist, leaving her saggy breasts exposed. Oluwashikemi, her firstborn, sits on the floor in between the robust thighs of Opemipo, her last daughter. Taiwo, her second daughter is lounging on the sofa while staring at the ceiling. She appears to be present only in the flesh. Kehinde, her twin sits on what used to be her father's favourite chair. Like an exiled dictator, the man of the house is in his study which he rarely leaves since he retired.   Shikemi, aged 25, by having lived longest with their mother knew what was on her mind. She is the one to slice open the silence.  “Guess who I saw at the bank yesterday?” “Another fine bobo to be your brother-in-law,” Opemipo replied without missing a beat as she made her sister's hair. “I saw Lanre.” An audible sigh came from the sofa. “That guy is in serious money,” she bent her neck to give

  "You won't believe what I saw this afternoon!" Bolanle said. "What did you see this time?" I replied. I could already see the signs of impending gossip which was indicated in her dramatic exclamation. Bolanle was one of the interns under my supervision at the pharmacy. Interns usually were not so bold to chat with the department head, but Bolanle was my bestie's younger sister and the time she used to spend hanging out with us had imbued her with familiarity even the workplace couldn't cure.  “I was helping Dr Andrews fill out a prescription for Jason Fashola.” “Who is that?” I wondered aloud. “That fine boy I told you about. The one that sings in the choir. But that's not the gist sef. It's what the prescription was for.” I wondered again to myself who this Jason was. Bola was always having a weekly crush on someone and it was difficult to keep track of them all.  “What was it for?” I asked with no interest whatsoever. I wanted her to get back

               This is the second part of a series. For the first part CLICK HERE. Thus it began officially. He got a job in the same town Esosa lived in with her parents. Esosa also got a job. Between their busy schedules, every single free moment they got was spent together. It became one of the inside jokes of their group. If you couldn't reach him, you called Esosa. The reverse was also the case. He became more enamoured with her. The thought of her smile made him grin at odd times. He had not yet given her a ring, but he daydreamed about her dressed in a snow-white wedding gown declaring her love for him before an audience. He couldn't imagine being in love with someone else. He loved her to the point he sometimes felt inadequate. Like a destitute supplicant offering one naira at his God's temple, he feared he would never love her in the way she needed to be love. Whenever he told her this, she would always reassure him that he was enough for her. They had already star

  He had imagined this moment a million times already. But the song was wrong. In his imagination, the song Beautiful in White by Shane Filan played over and over as she walked down the aisle. So as long as I live, I'll love you, Will have and hold you. You look so beautiful in white. And from now till my very last breath, This day I'll cherish. You look so beautiful in white…tonight. The song wasn't the only thing in his imagination that didn't match reality. The reason for her smile that had always dazzled him had nothing to do with him this time. Now, that gap-toothed smile bordered by two perfect dimples were focused on the groom. The man that wasn't him. The entire reception hall had stood up as the new couple slowly made their way to the dais set up at the opposite side. Tears of joy were being shed by some including those who shared the same table with him. Their friends. Her friends, he corrected himself. Before the couple arrived, they had all been talkin

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there lived a boy. Or a man. Maybe a boy-man. Whatever you choose. The point is this person had just finished his university education and now had a mid-level income job at a start-up company. Like most people alive, he had a name. His name was Adam.      Adam was a reserved young boy, man, man-boy, whatever you chose. He was the only son of his parents who had had ten daughters before having him. This remarkable fact was probably the reason why he had many close female friends.  His affinity and empathy for females had been detected at each stage of his life: from his formative years through his year at the university and now at his workplace. Girls, women, females in general gravitated towards him, confided in him, even those in relationships asked him for advice. While all this might sound good and well,  the general public's opinion on Adam's friendship with numerous females could be neatly divided into two. Adam was either foreve

Her name was Sharon and she was the prettiest girl I had ever seen. She had this type of beauty I hadn't seen before. The sensual sort. I think she knew this too. After all, why else would she wear her pristine, well-fitted white uniform with the top unbuttoned? She had white, well-formed teeth that shone like diamonds whenever she parted her lips for a smile. She also had dimples. Just because. That, combined with her light skin and her oval-shaped face unblemished by pimples made her perfect. She was a new student in my school and fortunately, she was in science class. I say fortunately because I was also in science class. That meant I had better chances of being more than a classmate. That was a daydream though. Some boys in the class already looked like men, so naturally, if she wanted to pick a 'friend' it wouldn't be me. I was only small fish. Did we become friends? I can't remember but I don't think so. We became friendly anyway. This was mostly du