“Fuks baby, you're lucky oh!”, Nerat started her long pre-wedding speech with so much excitement. “You just finished your Masters's program, got a job as a senior storyteller and now, getting married to Manji – oh that hunk of man! I envy you, girl. You're living the dream and life we had all prayed for as kids”.
I tried so much to hide my blush. It felt good to hear good things from Nerat. She has been my girlfriend since when we were kids. We were born on the same day, and our families lived close to each other on the same street. She was the last of four children, while I was the first of three. We were soul sisters; we went to the same nursery and primary school together and attended the Airforce Girls Military School but had different views on career choices. I wanted to be a journalist while Nerat chose to be a broker. It felt sad going to various institutions miles apart –but trust the girls to be the girls –we had everything planned out. We often planned weekend getaways. Sometimes, she was in the city of Jos for the weekend and I visited her in Abuja. This we did, till we both graduated. She was top of her class, graduating with a second-class upper division while I was the overall best graduating student with a CGPA of 4.99.
Nerat often teased me that I read a course which had zero calculations, hence my success but who said studying Mass Communication from the prestigious University of Jos would be that easy?
As a result of our fathers’ connections, we both served in the same state of our choice – Lagos. Nerat got permanently employed while I got a job offer in Abuja. It was a bad separation but we still had the weekend getaway now. Flights are efficient these days, so why not?
“Manji is a sweetheart Nene”, I responded with a girlish gesture. “I feel blessed and often consider myself the luckiest woman on the planet to be his own. I can't wait for Saturday oh! Let me and this man be joined in holy matrimony for life. At least, I won't hide to steal kisses from my man!”.
We both laughed at the joke. Knowing how much we spoke about kisses and sex but were scared to try the latter because of our homes. My father was a Senior Advocate in Nigeria, who was a Senior Partner at a firm in the UK. Speculations were that he'd be made the Chief Justice of the Federation during the next administration irrespective of the party that wins. Nerat’s father on the other hand was a medical practitioner who is currently serving as the Minister of Health. The man was one of the most dedicated humanitarians I knew. He had visible projects in UNICEF, WHO, and every international body you can think of. He started the project blocking malaria in Africa and also, the sex education awareness as a means of halting the widespread of STIs and STDs in society. My little brother, Gil idolizes him. He is studying medicine just for his sake [and against my father's approval].
“At least, by this time next week, you can kiss Manji with your chest! No objections now!” Nerat said, in-between her laughter. “But Fuks, what if your father finds out you've been kissing Manji in secret? Don't you think he'd sue you both?”.
“Hahaha! Me, his beloved daughter and only girl? That's impossible. Besides, my mother knows I and Manji make out. Her stance is that we don't have sex till we're married. It is hard babes. I won't lie. I've felt Manji's hardness a lot of times and trust me, I want it inside me”, I said. “That boy is a good kisser babe. He knows how to use his lips and tongue around me. Small thing like this, the daughter of Zion is wet. But, I have to be strong in Christ”.
“Ah, Fuks! So you no too innocent as we dey think? Chai! My mother must hear this”, Nerat said jokingly.
I was the perfect toast in Nerat’s family. Her mother loved me and always spoke of adopting me to her if my mother would agree – but that never happened. Although I had wanted it because of the days I spent in her home and custody, I am stuck as my mother's daughter for life.
“Ehen babe. You're getting married next week. When do we start the preparations in earnest? You better tell me now oh! I am coming into town on Monday as my leave begins that day”, Nerat said.
“My baby, you know how it is. As my chief maid of honour, I am entrusting everything into your hands. If my wedding and bridal shower fail, I'd behead you and nothing would happen", I replied, hoping Nerat could get my humour (which she tagged as dry).
“If the wedding fails, call me a fool and kill me”, Nerat said assuredly. “By the way, I am coming to town with a friend or two. Hope you wouldn't mind? Even if you mind sef, you no fit stop am”.
“Nerat, which guy is this one now that you want to bring? Abuja is spoiling you and bringing out the baddie in you. When would you settle down like me and have a man for life? See I and Manji, we started dating when I was getting into my penultimate year and we've been together since then. Learn my sister”, I said.
“See this one! If only you knew….” I had to cut her midway. “Nene, don't be angry. I have to end this call. Manji is calling and I need to pick it up. I love you girl. Don't miss me too much”.
“Man has stolen my sister oh! Man! A son of Adam! This is more serious than I thought”, she said playfully. “Oya na. Take care my boo. Let me allow you to talk to your side boo because I am your main boo”.
“Bye baby girl”, I said with a smile.
The call ended after over an hour of conversing on the phone. With Nerat, there was always a “gist” and time paused to admire our friendship. We had so much to talk about. She was the socialite and had gist on everything –from work to the men ‘toasting’ her, the sexual advances, Nigeria, the economy and a whole lot – Nerat had a thing to say with so much enthusiasm and girlish charm. Some old habits never die when the friendship blooms and blossoms.
I enjoyed her friendship. It was a solid rock to stand on, especially on days when life was a quick sinking sand for me. She always had my back, and I am eternally grateful for this. Who said girls can't be friends for life? Come take a cue from our friendship.
Back to reality, Manji was calling. He had made it a habit to speak to me at least three times a day, no matter how busy he was. I enjoyed this about my Superman. He was everything I wanted. I always count him daily as my blessing. Never have I ever thought it'd be this way. We had our dark days and in all those days, he knew how to light up a room. No matter how I was off rhythm, he'd be like the choirmaster, guiding me back to rhythm and tune. God! I love this guy!
“Hello baby”, his masculine deep baritone voice spoke. “How’s my soft ajebo doing this afternoon?”.
God abeg! I am gone…
To be continued…
