There was a reason I was not happy. Ife had changed. My lovely and friendly Ife had become hostile.
It was my fault but I didn’t want to blame myself. Sometimes we need to blame something or someone else for an unfortunate incident just to make ourselves happy.
Who would I blame for that circumstance that made Ife come to my room that first night we watched the drama performed by Mr and Mrs Davies in their kitchen?
Why would Ife come at that time?
Why couldn’t she just wait some minutes for Mercy to leave my room?
Why didn’t I take in Mercy’s sandals?
If I had taken her sandals in, I would have said Mercy was not in my house.
But what about the staff of Moses standing firm in my boxer? How would I have explained that? I should have worn a trouser before going to answer the person at the door. If I was wearing a trouser, I would have done some magic with one hand in the pocket. She wouldn’t know.
Who should I blame?
I knew I had to do something. Yes, Mercy, the sultry fair babe had been my target from the start and circumstance beyond my control had brought us together sooner than expected. But Ife and I had had connection which if it wasn’t for Mr and Mrs Davies intervention, I would have suspended my move on Mercy and concentrated on Ife.
Can anyone intentionally leave Ife? I doubt it. Ife was exceptionally jovial and lively. She is the type of lady you will want to be with at all time. More so, my experience with her the last time we went out had created a fire in me that I wondered if all the water in the Atlantic ocean can quench it.
There are many things to remember about that outing. Never seen palms so soft before, they were like the palms of a baby who has not have any contact with any object. It was like she should not remove her hand from my body when she touched me.
I remember when those soft palms eventually contacted the great object that was sleeping comfortably in my trousers.
I remember what I felt, the current that travelled all over my system. She woke it up by gently caressing those soft palms around it. And the sleeping dwarf became the awake giant.
I wonder if that is what people mean by being woke because the microphonic object was woke.
I remember how she initially handled the microphone gently like a priceless object which must not be broken and in a few seconds tightened her hands around it like a loosed Christmas chicken caught and which must not be given room to escape.
I remember when like a professional singer she held the microphone in her hand and directed it towards her mouth.
I remember the sensation the soft breeze she blew at it like someone testing if the microphone is working well.
The mouth of a singer does wonder, for therein great songs come from. So was the mouth of Ife, wonders she did perform and great songs released from my mouth.
These sweet memories wouldn’t on no ground let me jeopardise our relationship. But as circumstance had it, something came between us. No, nothing should come between us. I planned to resolve it.
So I met Ife in the compound and was lucky she was alone.
Me: Good evening Ifeoluwa
She looked at me with a questioning face. She knew I hardly call her by her full name except I had a motive.
Ifeoluwa: Good evening (avoiding eye contact)
Me: Ife, we need to talk.
Ife: We have nothing to talk about.
Me: You know we have something to talk about. I need to make clarification on something you think you have an understanding of but which you don’t have the true picture.
Ife: We have nothing to talk about, please.
Me: I am referring to the last time you came to my place when Mercy was with me.
Me: I notice since that day you have become a different person and your attitude towards me have not been friendly.
Ife: (laughs forcefully) That? Come on, that is nothing.
Me: Of course it is something. Can we go out tomorrow evening and have time to talk better.
Ife: (She smiles and looks at me) go out? I am busy, I don’t have that time now.
Me: Okay, I will see you later.
I left wondering if I had not lost Ife. No, there should be a way we have to resolve this. She had just shown me the periphery of what she could do, I wanted more.
I was having a heated discussion in a WhatsApp group I had planned to leave before I lost my sanity when my phone rang. It was Mercy calling.
Mercy: You won’t believe who called me?
Mercy: It was Mrs Davies
Me: Really? How did she get your number? Did you give her your number?
Mercy: No. She got it from Blessing.
Me: What did she say?
Mercy: She wanted me to direct her to my stylist’s salon. I tried to direct her but she said she would appreciate it if I can take her there?
Me: When, what is she up to?
Mercy: I don’t know o. I told her I am presently busy but she said…..you know what, I am on my way home. When I get home we talk.
Different thoughts ran through my mind. This is becoming serious. What is Mrs Davies up to, this is getting weird. Well, when Mercy comes I will know the full discussion they had. I need to start making my plan, I need to strategise just in case she is planning something sinister.