CHRISTMAS DATING
Episode 9
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“What’s the matter, Jojo?” I asked as he walked into the sitting room.
“Nothing serious, Sugar. Just tired.” His reply didn’t sound assuring to me.
“You’re just tired?” I reached for his briefcase, collected it and made him turn around to strip his jacket off his body. “My baby has overworked himself today.” I whispered.
He sighed. It was loud and long when he did. He seemed very exhausted and needed a whole week of rest. I hugged him tightly and caressed his back. I rubbed his shoulders gently as if to massage them and ease him of some burdens. He was breathing heavily. I felt it as I pressed my chest to his.
“Baby? Are you sure you’re okay?” I was afraid when I looked into his eyes. I needed assurance.
“Hey, Sugar. . .” he held my waist and kissed me gently. “I think I need rest from work,” he smiled.
His smile calmed my nerves. He was still breathing heavily. I still felt it under his breath. But he had assured me that all was well. When my Shakespeare spoke; my hero, my love elixir, I took it to the bank.
“Go take a shower,” I kissed him shortly. “Dinner is served,” I kissed him again and he looked at me in such a way that made me laugh so hard. I couldn’t control the way he gave me a sharp look sometimes. It always made me giggle and then laugh out loud.
I kept an eye on him. He was not his usual self. He walked hazily, like he would miss a step or two. The kingly boldness hanging on his shoulders wasn’t there. I kept asking him what the matter was, but he would reassure me each time I did.
We finished dinner that night and were curled up in the one-sitter sofa in the sitting room. I clung unto him like a magnet. He always loved it when I baby-girl-ed myself into his arms. He whispered love songs in my ears, almost putting me in sleep mood as he cuddled my hair.
Nights like this one, we didn’t have to talk much. It was always the three of us — Jojo, me and our chemistry — bonded together in one big house. That was fun for the most of things.
He sang me a Spanish poem. I wasn’t sure if I heard him begin to recite the poem in Spanish. I raised my head and looked into his face, surprised. He said something in Spanish. He was asking me if there was an issue.
I didn’t want to cut the fun short so I played along. I pretended that I knew he did speak Spanish. The language suited him more. Now he was not just a Yoruba Nigerian with a touch of fineness. He was also a Spanish who recited a poem in my tingling ears with absolute finesse. Boy, my Sweet Jojo was everything a woman desired.
I loved it. He said a few more things in Spanish. He was whispering. I didn’t care to know what the meaning was. I just enjoyed it. It sounded funny to my ears and I kept giggling. My Shakespeare was everything-everything.
I was still reminiscing the poems, songs and lovely words he sang and recited to me when he brought out something. He held it up to my face and asked me to guess.
“What are those?” I asked.
“Sugar, just guess.” He whispered.
“Your new business cards?”
“Nooooo!” He shock his head.
“The movies,” I said excitedly. I loved going to the movies with him.
“One last chance,” he giggled.
“Errrrm. . .I don’t knooow. You tell me.” I gave up.
He handed them over to me. I took a quick look at them; they were travel tickets. Vacation to Amsterdam. Two whole weeks. I didn’t know how to feel. I leaped off his arms.
“For you and me?” I asked excitedly.
“Erh erh, for you and the gatekeeper na.” He joked.
He was excited to see me jump up and down because of a vacation. He called it a common vacation. Well, I didn’t blame him because he had seen the world a couple more times than I had done. Plus, the cost of being on these vacations don’t smile, especially not for a hundred-k earner like myself.
I ran into his arms again and curled up with him. He had outdone himself with this gesture and it seemed as though somewhere inside me was holding back an ocean of love up until he presented the surprise. That place within me flung open and an overwhelming feeling of love for him filled my heart and head.
I kept kissing him. I was in the mood all of a sudden. I clamped my left hand to his and kissed the front of his hand. I pressed it against my chest and thanked him a million more times. I wished I could just live inside of him forever. At that moment of my life I realized how much more I loved him and how much more he meant to me.
We were on the plane to Amsterdam on the second of January. It was fun flying for those many hours, sitting in the first class cabin. I was culred up in my seat next to him, feeling his palm caress my hand as he told a story about an English man who ran to Nigeria to be with the love of his life.
I asked him to tell me that same story in Spanish. He smiled, sipped from his bottle of water and began to tell the story in Spanish.
It sounded different. I imagined him being a Spanish, his afro-punk looking curly and dark, his bright eyes begging for love all the time, flying over the ocean for many hours to come be with me in Nigeria. I slept off in my fleet of imaginations. Not because the story became boring, but because it truly sounded more interesting and hypnotizing in Spanish.
We touched land in Amsterdam. The first place Jojo took me to after our long hours of rest and love making as Van Gogh Museum. It was a museum that held artifacts of many stories he had told me about legends and heroes of different nations. There were paintings and handcrafts that symbolized every bit of his stories. It made me have strong believe in his words.
Then we went to the Dan Square where was lots of fun. And oh, the Flower Market. Jojo bought me loads of flowers there. I had never seen a place so colourfully graced with various scents and smell of beautiful flowers.
We journeyed by the Royal Palace on a road trip. Lots of ancients but renovated buildings that stood distinctly on both sides of the road, if it were in Lagos-Nigeria they would nose up pretty close to each other.
Our next stop was at the Frankendael Park Gardens in Merkelbach restaurants. It was such a quiet place and fun to be. What amazed me was how everybody minded their business. Nobody looked at you in a way that made you uncomfortable. Something I rarely saw in Lagos.
Then Jojo made me reach the height of it when he took me to the Wijk Aan Zee beach.
He had insisted on me picking his outfit. I searched lazily in his bag. I almost made him dress cooperate, but decided, on a second thought, that nobody needed a cooperate dress on a vacation.
So I made him wear a purple top matched with a jean short on white sneakers. And he insisted that I wore a yellow dress. He loved this particular yellow dress and had put it in my bag all by himself back in Lagos.
We were at the beach having fun, joking around, playing like kids, kissing and cuddling each other. Then he asked me to walk with him to the other end of the beach. I sniffed his romantic cologne as we walked and he talked in whispers.
I had become a fan of his Spanish. I asked him to speak it more often. And Jojo, Sweet Jojo. . .he did.
We had walked only a few steps away when he stopped. He was looking in my eyes.
“Jojo? What?” I smiled.
He giggled. He pointed at something behind me and asked me to take a look. When I turned around I saw nothing special. I turned back to him to meet him kneeling in front of me. I was surprised. I knew what he was trying to do and I prayed that it was what I thought it was.
“Sugar,” he said softly, the gently wind from offshore waving some body of water toward us.
“I know you’re not used to having me speak loudly. But I have to now because the wind is stronger than my voice, but not stronger than my love for you.
“I have thought about it through and through, and I have seen that amongst all the eight billion people on earth, you’re the one person I want to wake up every morning with.
“Please, my Sugar? Will you be my queen, and the mother of my children, and the reason why I live happily forever?”
I broke down in tears. I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. It was a mixed feeling for me. Tears and joy all together. I then giggled.
“On one condition, my Sweet Jojo. . .” I said to him.
He wasn’t sure if he wanted any conditions. But he was Jojo and he loved his peace of mind. He nodded to know what condition.
“Say it again; all of them, in Spanish.” I smiled.
Jojo repeated everything he said in Spanish. And even though I didn’t understand that version of his proposal, I couldn’t wait for him to finish. He taught me how to say yes in Spanish. And I said yes.
I didn’t need a prophet to tell me that I must say yes to Jojo when he eventually proposed. I jumped on it. I hugged his very closely. It lasted forever. I kissed him and stayed there for as long as eternity.
My dream was coming true. Jojo was different. He was my Mr. Right. He was my Hero, my Shakespeare.
We left for Nigerian three days later. But I was worried because Jojo still had that heavy breathing lurked within his chest. And it made me ponder on our love and everything we shared.
To be continued. . .
— Michael Ituma
