Entangled: A Little Too Many, A Little Too Close

by Kenneth Igiri

  "Yes" Philip answered when she knocked on his room door.

  "Please can I have a few hangers?"

  "Oh OK"

  In two seconds the door was open, and he handed her five hangers. He noticed the towel. It was a large one, but he could see the straps of her bra and her smooth thighs. You could almost see a reflection in them. He could not have said much more than "Here..." without stuttering involuntarily. She got a hold of the bunch and turned away back to her room smiling to herself as soon as she turned, holding back a giggle. Philip breathed heavily and began planning how to communicate the House Rules which would include what Zainab could or could not wear. That brought back memories again: the unexpected response from Uduak when he talked to her about the pair of jeans she had been wearing after he just finished preaching to a bunch of students. She had said "You mean that is what you came all the way to tell me?". He had interpreted the response in his mind. He had never asked her about her welfare as her leader but her wearing a pair of jeans had gotten him to engage in a conversation with her that was deeper than "How are you?". He also recalled Uchechi who had threatened to leave the fellowship if he ever spoke to her about the way she dressed again. Even Ngozi, a fellow member of the Fellowship Exco had ranted about his bringing guilt on her when he raised a few issues. "Can you take away guilt like Christ?" she had asked. House Rules were required here but he did not know how Zainab was going to react.

  He walked out of the bedroom and just then Zainab was coming out of hers, carrying her shower bag and still clad in a large, white towel. This time there were no bra straps. She walked passed him without saying anything, but she heard his breath and could have felt it ruffle the air across her shoulder. He heard her laugh in the bathroom after turning on the shower.

  10:30 PM. It seemed like one of those days Philip preferred would not end too quickly. Local TV was boring as usual. He had never been too enthusiastic about DSTV or maybe it was just another manifestation of his tendency to defer decisions to the near future which always approached very slowly. He surfed a few stations and then let it rest on a late-night movie half considering his planned dialogue with Zainab. She walked into the living room and sat next to him clad in her jeans shorts and a black vest. She leaned forward with her elbows on her thighs, shoulders square. She turned to him without moving her torso.

  "What's on TV?"

  "Movie..."

  "... Do you have any series?"

  "Series?"

  She ran her fingers through her hair. Some sort of panacea for her tense feeling of discomfort.

  "Like Desperate Housewives, Prison Break, Fringe ..."

  "I really don't like series. You have to keep anticipating the next episode. I prefer to just watch a full movie and end it there"

  "Hahaha. I see. I have Fringe here."

  She did not wait for an answer. She sprang up and was back in three minutes with a DVD. She knelt in front of the DVD player and got the disc spinning oblivious of her back which had become positioned in Philip's line of sight. He struggled to focus on something else. Back on her seat beside him, Philip ventured:

  "I think we need to make some rules..."

  Zainab's heart skipped a beat. She had begun to get comfortable. What rules? She was not one to be restricted. Her freedom was precious. "House Rules" sounded like someone was about to "mother" her all over again. Philip could have started with the line 'You know I am a Christian ...' but he reconsidered. He did not want to sound religious. He just wanted to keep safe from harm. Besides, he had already agreed to have her sleep in his house for a week so being a Christian at this point was a little late.

  "I think, " he continued, "we need to agree that while you are here, for my sake you kind of watch your dressing..."

  The most unexpected thing happened. Zainab burst out laughing. Philip was used to being scolded or ignored when he raised such issues but not being laughed at. She did not stop laughing for a while.

  "What? Am I tempting you?"

  "I am serious"

  She sat her chin on the back of her right hand while her elbow stood on her bare smooth lap. Half mocking, she asked:

  "So, what would you like me to wear? Hijab?"

  Philip burst out laughing himself.

  "No. Just something moderate. Like trousers in the house not shorts."

  "OK."

  "And I prefer a t-shirt not sleeveless vests"

  "OK"

  "I do not play secular music in the house either, so you can use earphones..."

  "OK. But we can watch secular movies, right?"

  Philip paused. Secular movies but no secular music. The no secular music rule was something he had become accustomed to since he became a Christian about twenty years earlier. It was sacrosanct. The rule could not be changed. No secular music. Strange thing is the movies never seemed to go away. No secular music but 'yes secular movies'.

  "Yeah..." he finally answered, doubting himself.

  "The ten Commandments minus seven"

  Philip chuckled. Zainab did have a witty sense of humour. She was a deep thinker too like all melancholies or their variants. Like Philip.

  "It is just to keep safe"

  Bed time was less than an hour away. One and a half episodes of Fringe and the time was up. Philip sat up for a for a few minutes and thought about his day. Would he really survive a week at this rate? Was she deliberately trying to get him? Was this some arrangement Hassan had made to mock the Christian faith? Or was it something he should simply enjoy while keeping within the boundaries of purity? He heard what he thought could be Cece Winan's songs playing from Zainab's room. She was a Muslim, wasn't she?

  The song woke him up by 4:30 AM. His regular alarm time was about 5:00 AM and even then, he would doze on the bed for another fifteen minutes or so. This morning was special. He had a new life, someone was in the house. Excitement had a way of taking away sleep; something to wake up to. It was a song from Cece Winan's Throne Room and it was coming from Zainab's room. The other significant sounds that morning were the loud prayers from the primary school nearby and the Imam's voice over a megaphone who had just rounded off his own prayers. Zainab was playing Cece Winans. Philip was curious. Did she just like the music or was she some secret disciple? He craved the experience of walking into a woman's room at the early hours of the morning or maybe even waking up in such a woman's arms. He craved what was not his: Zainab. Fifteen minutes passed, and he was still musing. Would praying the morning prayer be hypocritical in this situation? What would it be like to knock on her door? Was she really awake? One would have thought she would be very tired. Another five minutes and he heard a knock on the door. it was a bit startling, unexpected. He sat up and answered:

  "Zainab?"

  "Yeah..."

  "Good morning..."

  Philip greeted kind of expecting her to say what she wanted. Part of him was a bit scared, he could hear in his head. Was this some seduction attempt? When younger he often imagined himself as a viable candidate for elaborate attempts by desperate women. God had somehow saved him from such.

  "Good morning, Philip..."

  Uncle Charles used to say that 'Good morning' wasn't a greeting, it was merely a wish. A few seconds were again consumed in his musing and Zainab broke the silence again:

  "Are you awake?"

  "Yes, I am"

  He pulled himself off the bed, turned on the light, slipped on a t-shirt and opened the door slightly. Zainab was wide awake. She held up a copy of Our Daily Manner and smiled. She had her off-white pyjamas dotted with hot pink bougainvillea. She dealt with its translucence by tying a wrapper over the pair of trousers. Last night it was Cece Winans, now Our Daily Manna. Philip tried to understand what was going on without asking a direct question:

  "Where did you get that?"

  "I bought it?"

  "Any reason why?"

  Zainab laughed in disbelief. "For morning devotion of course. I was hoping you were awake."

  "I was actually
thinking you would need more rest."

  "I slept a lot on the bus. I don't sleep that much anyway"

  "I see..."

  "Yeah"

  The crickets were still awake. Somewhere outside they chirped away during the silence that ensued. Philip and Zainab stared at each other through the darkness. She had that smirk on her face that made a man wonder what she was thinking, whether she was deliberating seducing him. She tapped him on the left shoulder playfully and broke the silence:

  "Let's have devotion"

  Devotion? So, she was a Christian after all. Now how did that happen? That was one story Philip was eager to hear. He watched her make that swift twist with her body turning towards the living room. The corridor was still dark. The light from the living room carved her silhouette in the darkness. Philip followed, amazed.

  "How did you become a Christian?" Philip asked some fifteen minutes later.

  She laughed.

  "Do you want to hear it now or when you return from work?"

  "OK. After work then"

  "It's a date"

  Both burst out laughing.

  More than a Week

  “All things are lawful for me, but all things are not helpful. All things are lawful for me, but I will not be brought under the power of any.” I Corinthians 6:12

  Days passed. Philip was beginning to get a little uneasy while he enjoyed the newfound intimacy. He looked forward to getting home every day, there was someone waiting. He looked forward to waking up, there was someone to pray with. He could relax and have a good home-made meal cooked for him. He could not have Oha or Ukazi or Edikang Ikong but Zainab's Yoruba Egusi soup was Nigerian enough to be enjoyed by an Igbo.

  Zainab had not mentioned why she had been there two weeks. Philip thought about raising it a number of times but thought again, not wanting to give the impression he was sending her away. There was enough room in the house, Zainab was useful and he was enjoying intimacy. Intimacy without intercourse of course. There was no way he was going to touch her, it couldn't happen! or couldn't it? Did not having sex really make living with a lady acceptable? Philip had come to think so, it seemed. he was not so bothered about it like he was in the beginning.

  Saturday evening. It would have made a nice evening to have a meal out with Abena. He thought about it for a moment while watching a movie on TV. The bubble in the house was a little low this afternoon with Zainab locked away in her room fast alseep. She had sure gotten used to the room, Philip thought. Silence was a great brewing pot for a plethora of thoughts and fantasies; good and evil. "What if she woke up and wanted to just cuddle?" "What if she was really interested in him and that was why she hadn't left the house yet?" "Did she think he wanted her too?" "What would happen if he took her out? Would it stir already glowing embers?".

  A number of things scared Philip Ezeani about getting involved with a woman. One was the thought of having sex outside of marriage. He had preached against such far too many times to become a victim. He would not be able to forgive himself. He would not be able to drown the screams of his conscience or even cover up a pregnancy if it came to such. He was also scared about marrying someone who would turn out to be an enemy of his spiritual journey. He had become lukewarm, but he definitely still had vision. He could not contemplate any other life outside the Faith. "Was Zainab really a Christian?" he would ask himself over and over. Why had she let herself be put in such a precarious situation, living with a man and acting like his wife asides bedroom duties. The question bounced back at Philip. Then the phone rang.

  "Philip my guy..."

  It was Hassan. He had been silent a while. Philip was not particularly excited about having his thoughts suddenly broken but it was also a good jolt back to reality. He picked up the remote and lowered the television volume, adjusted himself on the sofa a bit....

  "Hi Hassan. How are you?"

  "I dey o my brother. How my babe?"

  "Your babe?"

  "Zainab na..."

  Philip could feel something resembling a revolt rising inside him when Hassan used the word. The bond was stronger than he had thought, he was beginning to subconsciously think of Zainab as his own. He had always had a problem with calling women by pet names and when others did he winced as if he had a secret interest. Consider it a case of not entering and not letting others enter either.

  "Oh. She is fine."

  "Anyway, she say make I beg you o. She no no how she go fit tell you. The house wey she get dem never complete am so she go need some small one or two weeks join. Abeg no vex..."

  "Well, what can I do? She is already here..."

  "My brother abeg no vex."

  "OK"

  "But she tell me say the place dey alright o.... Una dey enjoy you just forget your boy. Abeg if any job show that side let me know o"

  "Noted"

  "Ehhh... you no wan make I enjoy like you?"

  "Ha ha ha ha..."

  "You dey laugh. Abeg how I fit get work permit sef? My brother this country hard o. At least make I come do business."

  "My company did mine for me. Sincerely I do not know the process."

  "But how you come get the job? How you take apply from Nigeria for job wey dey Ghana? Dem don employ all dem people?"

  "Na wa o Hassan. It depends on what they are looking for now. Besides the company is a global company. There are subject matter experts for many different fields. They wanted someone who has what I have, and someone referred them to me"

  "God dey o. All this English wey you dey speak give me... you just no wan show me di way. No be Africa we dey?"

  "Anyway, Hassan, about two years ago, I started praying for a new job. Along the way I felt God's answer was for me to learn a new skill. While trying to find out what was selling I felt God telling me repeatedly to study Adobe's design software. It seemed simple enough and I already was familiar with CorelDraw so after procrastinating for six months I took a six-week weekend course. "

  Philip paused. He hesitated, trying to discern Hassan's reaction to the concept of God telling someone how to further his career.

  "So?"

  "Well... it was not too long after that my direct boss in Lagos got a call from Accra from an old Ghanaian friend who wanted a Graphic Designer with knowledge of Adobe Photoshop and Flash. He wanted a Nigerian! And here I am."

  "So, all this enjoyment is because of Photoshop?"

  Philip burst out laughing. 'God uses the foolish things of this world to confound the wise'.

  "You will not believe how much a telco, or an oil company is willing to pay for a good branding package. Besides, my boss here knows those who make the money for him. He does not pay everyone the same. I am considered an expatriate!"

  "God please speak to me o!"

  Philip laughed but not too hard this time. He wondered whether it was a good time to talk about the gospel.

  "Maybe he is already speaking to you."

  "I know. The next thing you will say now is that I should give my life to Christ and everything will be alright"

  "Ha ha... not like that. The purpose of the gospel is not to give you a big job. The gospel gives you a new life and the assurance of entering Heaven"

  "E be like say you don enter your own heaven sha"

  "Hassan this is not Heaven o. It is just a good job."

  Suddenly the line cut. Philip did not think he had deliberately cut the line. Was the conviction getting stronger than he had expected? Philip called him back.

  "Sorry my brother," Hassan started, "I ran out of credit. So, you were saying..."

  "Yes. Basically, when we give our lives to Jesus Christ he does make our lives more meaningful but that is not the point. The more important thing is that we have the assurance of eternal life. The Bible says in I John 5:12-13 'He that hath Christ hath life. He that hath not Christ hath not life. I write to you who believe in the name of the Son of God that you may know that you have eternal life. And this life is in His Son...'"

  "Pastor Phil! Ha ha ha
. You still dey quote fire. Money never carry am go?"

  Philip laughed heartily again. Then he heard movements. Instinctively he looked at the TV just as he realised it must have been Zainab waking up. There was another pause.

  "Phil. Thank you so much. I appreciate. I go think am. Abi you know say I be Muslim, but I go think am shaa"

  "Great. Keep in touch."

  There was such a rush of joy in Philip's soul. He really felt he had made impact. He really felt Hassan had listened to him. It was not the first time he had spoken to Hassan about the Lord, but this seemed special. For some reason Hassan had been on his trail and had seen the outcome of his life over the years and possibly this could be the means by which God was reaching the young man. Maybe he would have yielded by now if he wasn't surrounded by Muslim relatives. Philip stood and stretched. He didn't notice Zainab had walked into the living room. She leaned by the arched entrance that separated the living room from what could have been the dining room. Philip turned.

  "Hi" Zainab started.

  Her voice was again that soft version. Her smile could very easily be interpreted as suggestive, but it could also be just her own emotions showing up without her knowledge. Her eyes were fixed on him, saying something that Philip could not decipher. She was so difficult to read, and Philip dared not make a move. Her faith was not really clear, the circumstances were not exactly right, he could not contemplate marriage with her. Something was just not right.

  A rush of hormones invaded Philip's brain. Sound judgement was clouded momentarily, and a thousand possibilities seemed to well up inside him all at once, but he simply stood there and enjoyed those few seconds.

  "Hello..." Philip responded. He dropped the TV remote that he had been stretching with and walked towards her for no apparent reason. He had his own smirk on and his breathing was slightly above regular tempo. He noticed the shine on her face coming from the film of sweat which was reflecting the lights from the low energy incandescent lamps in the living room. She lowered her eyelids. She reached out with her left hand and stroked his left breast, then ran her fingers upwards and then to the back of his neck.