of a huge Spiderman birthday cake with their mother and a man who, by the proud smile on his face and the way his hand was clasped around Ola’s ribs too close to her breasts, appeared to be their father. Hopefully, my face did not betray my shock. Poor Ola - her husband was unpardonably ugly, as if he had done it on purpose. As if he had gone to a native doctor and asked for some juju that would make his face hideous. Where was I to start? Was it the square eyes or the spacious nostrils, or the puckered face or the quadruple chin? The man was a veritable troglodyte.
Fortunately for the children, their mother’s genes had won the battle. The outcome could win a Nobel Prize for Nature. Ola’s children were all quite handsome - saved, delivered, from their father’s DNA. At that moment, I decided that if losing Ola to this man meant that the human gene pool had discontinued some frightful traits and produced a better-looking hybrid, then I was glad to have made my noble contribution to the advancement of humankind. I handed back the photographs.
‘You have very lovely kids,’ I said.
Like all proud mothers, she smiled as if she had been waiting all the while to hear me say just that.
‘And they are American citizens,’ she added. ‘They were born in the US.’
I smiled louder, to prove that I was happy for her.
I asked about Ezinne, about her other sisters, and about her mother. She asked about my mother and my siblings:
‘How’s your uncle . . . Cash Daddy? I still find it difficult to believe that he’s actually contesting for governor.’
I smiled. She laughed. Then, we were silent for a while. Sitting in front of her like that reminded me of old times, of how much I used to love being with her.
‘So are you seeing anyone?’ she asked suddenly.
I could not look her in the face.
‘Not really.’
‘Not really, how?’
‘I’m not in any serious relationship.’
‘How come?’
‘How come not?’ I forced a smile.
How was I supposed to tell her that while she was busy popping babies and growing fat, I was paying dollars for sex?
‘I don’t really have the time,’ I lied.
‘Time? Why? Are you burying your head in your books again? What? Are you doing a postgraduate course?’
Haha.
I sighed.
‘Ola, right now, I’m not thinking about any of that. I look at my siblings and I’m satisfied that they’re doing well and it makes me content with being the sacrificial lamb. I don’t mind setting aside—’
‘Kings, it’s not worth it.’
The force of her words, though quietly rendered, could have smashed a hole right through the Great Wall of China.
‘Kings, you can’t set aside your goals and convictions just for the sake of your family or any other people. Take it from me, I know what I’m talking about.’
We went back to silence again, both of us deep in thought. I had spent my childhood daydreaming about my future as a scientist. Ola knew this. My name was going to appear in my children’s science textbooks. I was going to be known all over the world because of my inventions. Top on my list, I once told her, was an electric fan that also ran on batteries so that the mosquitoes would not bite even if NEPA took the light in the middle of the night.
A wave of depression came over me. Ola was right. This was never the life I had planned.
Suddenly, it struck me. Inside all those layers of fat, the Ola I loved was still there. She had a way of getting to me, of making me think differently. She had seen me at my lowest and at my highest, at my best and at my worst. And I had not been able to talk to any other person with such easy freedom in a long time - with honesty, with confidence, without apprehension. Ola was my soul mate. Unlike my mother, she understood without being judgemental.
‘Ola . . .’ I paused. ‘Maybe if I had you by my side, things would be different. Maybe you’re what I need.’
She remained quiet. Abruptly, she stood and said that it was time for her to leave. She had not touched her Diet Coke. I had not touched my Classic Coke.
‘Ola,’ I said.
I reached out and held her hand. The warmth of her soft palm was as delicious as a forbidden fruit. I felt a slight tingling run down my spine. Still holding her