My first glimpse of Derele was a fortnight after he arrived. He did not arrive at his family home as Madam had anticipated but had gone to stay with his friend across town. I overheard from the staffs that he was staying with his girlfriend. Obviously, the day he decided to grace the mansion with his appearance, the aura of the homecoming king was lost on everyone. I was coming in from tutorials and had briskly walked in through the kitchen door when I saw him.
He was of average height, from my vintage at the kitchen I can imagine we are of the same height. I am pretty tall and lean; maybe I should contemplate being a model. He is also slightly chubby, that chubby that is healthy and speaks of wealth not the offensive one. I cannot see his face well but he is in a dark suit and a brisk white shirt. Even though it was late afternoon, he looked like he had just dressed for the office. However, he did sound tired out and was definitely having a fight with madam. I could hear the tension in her voice too.
“There are rooms everywhere; this place is lonely for me and your father.”
“You have the live-in-helps, they should do for company.”
“Hmm, you are mean, mean Dele, you come around, you don’t see me and you are off staying with that no good girl. Is ‘that’ supposed to be your wife? She is no wife for this family, who can’t advise you to come greet or something.”
“She is not my fiancée Mother.” He barked back.
“Sure she isn’t. You are staying here and that is final. You can as well return to where you are coming from.” Madam slammed the door as she left the house.
She was dressed and was obviously on her way out when Derele had come to the house. He also turned and our eyes clashed. I quickly retreated to the kitchen. I could swear he was coming to confront me for eavesdropping but he never came. I tip-toed back outside and re-entered the house through the rear.
After that occurrence, Mrs Kumuyi was oddly warm to me. She asked about my exam and even drove me to my exam venue that Saturday. I felt elated because we drove in her SUV that got everyone starring. When it was taking forever to get to my turn, she drove us to an eatery and bought lunch.
Normally, I usually avoided her because she has this air of arrogance and build an aura of dignity around herself like someone who doesn’t mingle with the help. However, this was really a, don’t judge a book by its cover scenario. She even prepped me for the Computer-Based Test, “don’t wait too long on a question, do the easy ones first and come back for the tough ones.”
The exam finished no sooner as it started, what was important was I felt confident I would gain admission this year. So, I didn’t choose Nursing as I had ill-informed chosen last year seeing it is the most chioced in Nigerian Universities. I opted for Economics in the University of Abuja. I felt secured too because Mrs Kumuyi was going to sponsor my education, Mrs Johnson ensured that in her condition for employment.
As we drove back home, Madam’s phone kept ringing but after checking the caller Id once she ignored it and instead turned on the SUV stereo humming alongside the singer.
Derele was at the porch when we got home. I busied myself with unloading the vehicle, hurriedly walked passed him and rushed a quick “Good evening sir.” He didn’t acknowledge me, not that I expected him to anyways. He had the same air of arrogance and an aura of dignity too. And he was wearing male cologne; one had to notice that and his striking face. The rich definitely know how to look pretty and arrogant.
His mother ignored him too as she seemed busy dialing her phone.
“I have been calling mother, the housekeeper said you left with Maureen for her exam.”
“Go talk to your father okay,” still indifferent.
“Mother this is all your doing, am home already, I brought my stuff…” stepping in line with his mother.
She cuts him. “No you didn’t, you are just going to spend the weekend and fool me into unblocking your credit card.”
Really! What an irony of life. I would do anything for the fussing and attention while this son of hers does want nothing to do with her. Twisted, isn’t it?
©Tiana
Comments
Post a Comment