My name is Rita Chidimma Charles, and it's a Saturday morning. I'm currently living with my uncle because I couldn't find an apartment close to my workplace. I look at the time on my phone while in bed and am baffled as to why I woke up at 8:24 am. Then I realize it's a good thing because I have a busy schedule. At least that's what I tell myself, knowing fully that I just have one activity for the day.
I step out of bed, wobbling towards the door of my room, then I open it and head to the living room where Uncle Benji and his wife are seated, discussing how to sustain the family. I regret walking in on the conversation.
"Good morning, sir. Good morning, ma," I greet Uncle Benji and his wife, still battling with sleep as I yawn.
"Good morning," they answer at the same time. Uncle Benji is a relative from my mother's side. He is an Igbo man who married an Edo woman. He is quite successful, with a business that pays well, while his wife is a small trader supporting herself and her husband.
The house they live in is a three-bedroom bungalow located inside an estate. I'm staying in the guest room until I can get an apartment. I want to get one soon; the inconvenience is starting to bother me, even though Uncle Benji isn't bothered.
"Good morning, Aunty," Daisy greets cheerfully. Daisy is their oldest child and first daughter; she is also seven years old. I consider her to be a very smart and respectful girl; however, she's not exactly book-smart like her brother.
"Aunty, good morning," Lawrence greets, still affected by sleep just like I am. He is five years old, and from the way he behaves, you can tell that he is a bookworm with low tolerance, no doubt about it.
And finally, the baby of the house, "Aunty, good morning, ma," she greets with so much excitement. She's very cute and three years of age. And of course, I reply to their greetings one by one.
As usual, I go to the kitchen and fetch something to eat for the family and me. Today's breakfast is the same as always: bread and tea, but I add fried eggs to the dish. We gather at the dining table and eat our fill. Daisy takes the dishes to the kitchen for washing while I prepare for a bath.
The only agenda I have for today involves going house hunting with a real estate agent named Mr. Richard. He is the third real estate agent I've met concerning finding a good apartment suitable for a single lady like me who wishes for freedom and the distance to be very considerate; that is, I don't want it far from my workplace because I don't like stress.
After taking a bath, I wear a black knee-high, sleeveless turtleneck, body-hug dress and a white and red floral chiffon kimono jacket. Finishing my look is a black bangle, silver jewellery, and a black bag. I move to my dressing table and start by complimenting myself as I add an extra layer to my eyebrow, then I apply eyeliner, mascara, lip liner, and a rose-coloured lip gloss. After dolling myself up, I go to the living room to head out the front door.
"Uncle, I'm going out to meet with the housing agent," I spoke with politeness and respect as I paused before leaving the house. My uncle was about to reply, but his wife interrupted.
"You're going out dressed like that?" she said with a hint of disgust in her tone and face. Scanning my dress, I wondered what I was wearing that was putting her in a foul mood.
"What is wrong with my attire?" I asked curiously because I was sure I wasn't wearing any mini skirt and a crop top that exposed my cleavage.
"Never mind, you can go," she said as she looked away from me. I've been able to tell that she thinks of me as a problem child or a seductive guest.
My aunty and I don't get along well; the way she looks at me is that of a spoiled child or some seductive, unserious person. I honestly don't care as long as Uncle Benji isn't bothered. And anytime I dress up, I feel good as well, so I'll ignore her comments.
"I'll be going then," I said as I left through the front door.
I am to meet with my agent, Mr. Richard, in his office located on the second floor of a shopping complex, on the right of the T-junction. However, I am greeted with a surprise: the so-called Mr. Richard doesn't have a shop, nor is he a housing agent.
I've been duped by a lying, slimy, cheating bastard. Even the person who introduced me to Mr. Richard isn't picking up my calls. I know I shouldn't have made that down payment of 50,000, but it was a matter of urgency. What dumb luck; all my efforts to get away from my uncle's wife seems in vain. I'll go get a drink and a snack from the supermarket on the ground floor then rethink my strategy.
The supermarket on the ground floor is one of my regulars. As usual, I greet the person at the counter and move to the drink aisle to get some yogurt, then I scroll through the snack aisle contemplating whether or not I should get chocolate or milk.
As I shop for some snacks, I see a familiar face in the provision aisle. I never thought he could step out of his house in any way, and he's wearing the same gloomy attire, but I guess the one he wore today isn't that bad. I must admit it looks good. Let's have some fun.
"Hello, Johnny," I said as I leaned close to him with a wide smile. He seemed a little jumpy, which was amusing.
John is my current boyfriend; we entered this relationship in a rather awkward way. He's wearing a wine check shirt black trousers and black sneakers. He is also wearing a black analogue watch.
"Rita?" he said in shock due to my surprise greeting. He looked as though he had seen a ghost, but I could see the relief on his face meaning that he was happy to see me.
For some reason, I had an urge to tease him a little more, so I went for it. I wrapped my arms around his right hand; the basket of provisions was in his left hand. I leaned forward, turned in his direction, and replied,
"Who do you think it is? Did you not want to see me?"
"That's not what I meant, I'm just surprised to see you," he said, avoiding eye contact with me. Every time he does that; I find it disturbing. He is a handsome man, but I see a hint of low self-esteem.
"Never thought you'd be doing stuff like this," I said as I slowly let go of his right arm and began fiddling with an item on the shelf in annoyance.
"Do you mean shopping? Well, I have to; I live alone, so no one will do it for me," he said as he continued to scroll through the shelf. He still didn't make a single eye contact with me. What a boring man.
"Why are you here?" he asked, this time facing my direction, and as soon as I looked at him, he turned his face away. I then realized he was being shy and my urge to tease him resurfaced.
"Oh John, it's terrible," I leaned on his shoulder, wrapped myself around his hand once again, and acted as though I was in distress, then continued.
"I'm supposed to meet with a housing agent who supposedly had an office on the second floor of this shopping complex, but upon reaching, I realized that I was duped."
I continued to release all my frustration, even that of my uncle's wife, and he paid close attention to me. It's a first for me honestly, but I couldn't believe it, so I wanted to confirm.
"Are you listening to me?" I asked, looking straight at him with a stern expression. He looked at me with the corner of his eye and moved his eyes back to the shelf. I was slightly disappointed at such a reaction and looked at the shelf, still holding on to him.
"Yes, I'm listening. I'm just wondering what I can do to assist you. Maybe we should report it to the police, and I can help track them with the phone number they gave you. And I'll connect you to a genuine housing agent, also…"
Before he continued, I laughed lightly, holding back a full burst because I wanted to compose myself in public. He surprises me; I've never seen someone worry over a little matter like this before. It makes me feel comfortable.
"Why are you laughing?" he said with a concerned tone, even looking at me, feeling embarrassed enough to look away. It made me happy, so I smiled and replied with the first word that came to mind.
"Cute."
He widened his eyes and quickly turned his eyes to the shelf, flustered and embarrassed. I wasn't bothered by his dense reactions anymore; instead, I wanted this moment to last forever. But how can I make him stay with me longer? Think, brain, think. As I seriously pondered, an idea came.
"John?" I called out, and he answered, facing me with no intention of turning away in sight. I felt nervous to ask, but if I missed the opportunity, this man would never make the first step. So, I jumped in and asked.
"Would you like to go on a date with me?"