A Hazel Haven

Chapter 18

THeir eyes found each other in the auditorium despite the room full of people, and every time Uche averted hers from the overt lust smoldering back. Years apart hadn't dulled that gleam she now found repulsive.

His movements exuded the conceit with which his lips curled up smiles under twinkling eyes at every rapturous applause he won. Nosakhare Rossi, the IPLPPWD president for Nigeria, was a long young man. Over six feet, the stage bolstered his imposing height, so much that he towered over them, his lanky frame clad in a suit tailored to fit.

Maybe that was the reason why: the height, Uche wondered as she studied the plain face. How often did she meet taller men around here? Or perhaps it was his Italian heritage,  an olive skin that had since undergone some serious tanning, the shapely nose and  face atypical of pure bred Africans. Oh, how the exotic was adored, too—people always stared, awestruck, like they had never seen a human being before.

One hour into the meeting, her nerves still grated from the fact that no one had mentioned he would be officiating today. Why didn't anyone say anything? Definitely, he must have informed Rebecca, (her team leader) and the others. If they had announced his arrival she would have decided against coming rather than be tormented by his presence. Then again, the clues had been there: the auditorium wasn't their usual venue, used only when the school had to match the expectations of visitors; Becca's insistence that they all attend, reiterating the importance; the assortment of refreshments she'd seen on entry. It was her fault for not piecing everything together and running away immediately.

Damn it.

And now it was too late. Leaving would be disruptive. Several times she'd contemplated settling back and feigning sleep or ducking her head, but neither was an option when sitting in the front row, not without rousing everyone's attention. Today of all days, she chose to break habit.

Bored, distracted, Uche yawned, brought out her phone. She began surfing the net. With the way the guy rambled on, the meeting could span more hours, so she texted Huma, informing her about plans for lunch. The girl had been acting differently since the hotel incident. Huma's eyes were the shifty kind; only now, with something to hide. She dressed differently too, always wrapping a scarf around her neck. She had to know. That was her job: to know everything but so far all Uche knew was that she liked art, stared a lot, liked her space (she still slept on her own bed), ate little, and studied for more hours than sleep. Nothing more.

Maybe being nicer, intiating conversations were really the only options left. How she dreaded it.

The message failed. Uche hissed, remembering she had no airtime. So annoying. She never had to text or call anyone this frequently before.

"What are you doing?" Someone whispered behind her. Uche didn't bother raising her head. The two girls behind her had been chattering the minute the meeting commenced.

"I'm taking a picture," The other responded, giggling. "No, a video would be better. It's not every time he comes around. Everything was so hush hush this time."

"You came here to help people, not pine over a man. Focus."

"Last time I checked, I'm a woman and I'm single. What's wrong with doing both? He's single too, you know. Just imagine if we get married, my child will be half oyinbo. He'll take me abroad. I heard he's going over there for his masters."

Single? Uche's ears perked up.

"Where did you hear that?"

"People talk. Anyways, isn't he fine?"

"Nah the oyinbo thing dey shak you. He's not, actually. Too bad he took after his mother."

"He does?"