He kept standing but she had settled back into the single chair that decorated the living room.
“Please sit down,” she offered, “I don’t have any chairs so you can use the beanbag”
Philip looked around, and caught the rechargeable lantern on the reading table. He turned it on and then sat on the wooden chair. He found it too hard so he took Zainab’s offer and sat on the beanbag. The rug was quite thick, he observed. He imagined she often slept in the living room rather than walk into the adjoining bedroom. He could see part of a large mattress lying in the room through the translucent curtain tossed gently back and forth by infrequent bursts of breeze.
“So, what brings you here?”
Zainab didn’t look at him. She seemed to be staring at the wall, easing her discomfort with a hand fan.
“I thought we should talk,” Philip replied.
“About what?”
Philip hesitated. He was on the verge of saying ‘About us’ but thought it might create the wrong impression even before the discussion started. Zainab stood up gently and sat beside him, on the soft rug, leaning against the wall.
“So, what do you want to talk about?” She asked again.
She curled up in a fetal position, pulled her sheen in with her forearms and laid her cheek on her knees; eyes raised looking into Philip’s face. She strained to see the expression on his face since the lamp was behind him. He saw her face quite clearly. Her eyes reminded him of many things that had before then begun to sink into his subconscious.
“I just wanted you to know… I want you to know that I don’t blame you for everything that happened when you stayed at my place…”
Philip watched a gentle smile form slowly on Zainab’s face. The blush that mixed with this smile made her look exceptionally attractive. It felt like there was music playing, a soft wind gently passing by, a solemn moment. It changed everything that he had planned for that evening. A little cuddling followed. Then a lot of cuddling. Philip left the house about two hours later. It would never seize to amaze him the amount of time he could spend with Zainab saying nothing in words but expressing much emotion.
The mattress was on the bare floor but quite comfortable with Zainab in it with him. Everything seemed quiet and no one seemed to be watching. When it was over, his eyes stared at the ceiling as Zainab laid on his chest. It dawned on him: the difference between forgiveness and repentance, the iniquity that was inside him. It wasn’t Zainab’s fault, neither Helen’s nor Abena’s. It wasn’t even Victoria. The iniquity was inside him and he had to take responsibility for it. He had been forgiven too many times now he needed to turn his back on all this. There was no need to cry or to pray another set of long prayers. What he needed to do was clearly revealed. He needed to cut this arm off completely and bleed.
At 1:00 am he sat up and prepared to leave. Zainab stretched and ruffled the already unkempt bed spread.
“Are you leaving?” She asked, her voice sounding worried.
“Yes please”
Zainab sat up, a little confused. In the brief silence, they heard the chirping of crickets outside. The light of the full moon filtered through the blinds carving their shapes in the otherwise dark room. Philip stood and pulled his T-shirt over himself. He took one more look at her and then turned to leave. She followed. As she got to the door she spoke again, almost desperate.
“Will I see you again, soon?”
“No, Zainab. No. I’m sorry”
She cringed.
“OK”
She heard the door shut as Philip left. She somehow knew it was all over. She would never see him again. There was something very decisive about his answer. It was the last time. She took one step forward and gently locked the door. Nothing more needed to be said.
Epilogue
Two years later. Miss Botchway was busy packing her small leather bag. She went back and forth around the house looking for one thing or the other. She glanced at the clock and exclaimed “Hei!” every now and then. She was running out of time, almost a little worked up and not her usual self. The phone rang.
“Oh! Who could this be at this very wrong time?”
She reached for the mobile phone on the dining table and touched the surface. She saw a long number starting with +97.
“What country is this?” she asked herself just before she picked.
“Hello Aunty Anita!”
The voice was unmistakable. And only one lady in the world had such a ring in her voice and tinge of pure excitement when she called her name. She chuckled.
“Hei Zai … nab! What part of the world are you in now?”
“I’m not telling ….”
“Hmmm… secrets from Aunty Anita, huh? So, how are you?”
“I am fine Ma. What’s your shoe size? It was supposed to be a surprise, but I can’t afford to miss it”
“Ha ha ha … ‘Surely the Lord God does nothing,
unless He reveals His secret to His servants the prophets.’ I am blessed. I wear size ten. Big feet!”
“Ha ha ha. Ho ho ho. OK. Watch out for my surprise soon”
“Thanks very much, Zainab. God bless you, OK. I am grateful you thought about me wherever you are”
“Welcome Aunty Anita. I love you so much”
“I love you too, Zainab. I have to rush now. Philip has asked me to come over and help take care of his baby girl”
“OK. That’s so nice of you, Aunty Anita. My regards to them. I will talk with you later and reveal all my secrets. Take care of yourself. Mmmuah!”
“Bye, Zainab.”
The End
Appendices
OTHER TITLES BY KENNETH IGIRI
ABOUT THE BOOK
Philip Ezeani, a middle-aged single Christian finds himself in a roller coaster, undefined relationship with an unintended live-in lover, Zainab Audu Garba. His life is further complicated by the myriad of women in his past and present who have taken up various positions in his heart, unknown to them and often unclear to him. Philip finds himself unable to control himself and finally discovers that his life has not been hijacked by external forces but by something living inside him.
Based on a true story, Entangled tells explores the concepts of sin and forgiveness, sonship and slavery, lust and love. A young man finds himself failing over and over because he has failed to accurately analyze his true strengths and weaknesses. He fails because he has not taken time to be honest with himself. The filth hidden within his heart is suddenly exposed, embarrassing him, trapping him, enslaving him. He has judged others without first judging himself, oblivious of what he was capable of until he was exposed to the right (or wrong) set of circumstances.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kenneth is a Nigerian Christian of Igbo extraction based in Accra, Ghana. His books tell stories from an African/Christian point of view and they are very original inviting the reader to analyse faith and societal concepts as they are subtly expressed in each storyline.
When not writing, promoting entrepreneurs or in church with children, he can be found playing with Oracle, SQL Server or MySQL Databases. He is passionate about his job but definitely finds creative writing a significant part of his life. He has two other published works, Njànsí and Till Death both available on Amazon as well as in bookshops across Lagos and Accra. He also maintains a blog www.scribblingsage.com which covers a variety of thought-provoking subjects and excerpts of his books.
Kenneth is happily married to Joycelyn, a beautiful and soft-spoken Ewe lady and they have a little baby boy, Shemaya.
* * *
[1] Twi for ‘How are you?’
[2] Twi for ‘Fine’
[3] Igbo for “Isn’t it so?”
[4] Local expression for minibus in Accra
[5] Igbo word for "Please"
[6] Expression implying a very tiny amount
[7] Igbo word for "full stop" or end of a matter
[8] Twi for "Why"
[9] Igbo for "You yourself know"
&nb
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Entangled: A Little Too Many, A Little Too Close Page 15