Improvised Plan #ProjectNigeria

7- Sleepover.

Saheed:

So her ex is getting married. And the dolt decided to extend an invitation to her. An insult, regardless of how she chooses to act. She doesn't honour the invitation, she is considered a coward. She attends, she is seen as reluctant to let him go.

But if she attends with another man, a man who shows that he is clearly besotted by her, that's a whole different story. It's a message. A statement.

And Saheed likes to make statements.

"My eyes are turinoniown," she says with a small laugh, her voice slow.

I want to laugh, too, because this situation very much reminds me of two nights ago, when I had been drunk and spewing senseless words from my mouth.

"You're even on medications. That's what's pissing me off, Ola," I reply. "Don't let go."

Her arms are sliding off my neck. She is too weak to hold on. I hold her tighter to myself. We are now a few metres from my car. Somehow, I manage to open it and place her in the front passenger seat as gently as I can. Like jelly, she wobbles and slides sideways, but I straighten her again and fasten the seatbelt.

"Tomorrow, I'll mock you for this. We are more than even now." It gives me a certain satisfaction, watching her do the things she had yabbed me for.

"Whatever," she slurs. "It won't matter. I've suffered worse."

"Come on, cheer up. It's just a wedding between two cheaters."

But I know it's not just a wedding. I had pushed my experience with Queen to the back of my mind. I had convinced myself, that I was over it. Until I'd seen her and Maduka with their baby. If she'd invited me to her wedding, would I have shown up?

I realise I have no answer to that.

"I loved one of the cheaters," Ola chokes. "And I was played for a fool."

"On the bright side, you dodged a bullet."

She hiccups in reply and remains silent while I drive out from the restaurant's premises.

"Saheed, we are not really attending that wedding are we?"

"Of course we are. It'll be fun, I promise."

"I am not like you."

"You don't have to be."

"I'm so tired."

"You'll be fine."

"You're not as bad as I thought you'd be." She sniffs and hiccups again. Groaning, she doubles over, clutching her stomach.

"Don't throw up in my car, please," I beg. This car is fairly new and just last weekend, I had hired a professional to clean and polish the interior.

"And if I do?" Ola defiantly queries.

"Let's not get there."

"Did you hear what I said, Saheed?"

"That I'm not as bad as you'd thought." I stretch my lips into a smile. "People usually expect the worst from me."

"You were such a rude drunk that first night."

"I'm sorry."

Ola makes a small sound. "I'm sleepy."

"Just close your eyes."

"I just...need...to lay...my...head," she drawls, slowly leaning towards my side of the car. To my surprise, she lays her head on my lap with a sigh.