She cracks open the door and peers in.
“Is this Oye’s room”?, a small, voice says.
I rise up from my phone thumbing and pause, staring at the doorway, seemingly entranced by the sound of her voice.
“Come in, come in”, I say, remembering my manners after what seems like hours.
She steps in, taking in the sight of my room in all its ghastly glory in one quick glance. I don’t quit staring, equally taking in, or rather drinking in the sight of her. She is dressed in a self-made gown- as always- a pretty blue black sleeveless dress with intricate patterns swirling around the front. The cut is so done as to not over-emphasis but rather give tiny, but tempting hints of the delicate curves underneath. She wears no accessories, save for a small yellow band on her left wrist. Her hair is done in a Fringe fix, and she wears a pair of heels that goes well with her fine dress.
“Hello Jane”, I say, my mouth dry.
She looks at me and smiles.
“Hello, Oye”, she says sweetly.
She moves gracefully from the doorway and walks toward me, closing up the gap until we’re mere inches away from each other.
My heart begins to thump loudly, deep inside my chest. I lick my lips nervously and take an instinctive step backwards. She pretends to not notice my apparent discomfort and instead says,
“Goat! I’ve been trying to reach you for the past 10 minutes! Where’d you put your phone?”
I glance down at my phone on my mattress. I dimly realise I must have dropped it somewhere in the moment of excitement/semi-unconsciousness between her walking in and the immediate present.
I look back at her, “Must’ve been the bad network”.
I try to sound angry, frowning my face slightly, hoping to achieve the proper effect.
” Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? ”, I demand.
The truth is that I’m simply unprepared for this visit. It’s totally impromptu. I didn’t expect it. My bedsheets are terribly rumpled. Books , cables and clothes are lying around slapdash. I haven’t had my bath, although it’s nearly 2:00pm today, Sunday. At least, I brushed my teeth in the morning. I shudder mentally at the thought of having to face Jane with a smelly mouth.
Instead of replying, she plops right down on my mattress, all the while looking at me.
“I thought to surprise you”, she says, frowning ever slightly.
“Well this isn’t a nice surprise”, I immediately reply. Realising that didn’t come out right, I try to soften the blow of my hard words.
” But then, I’m really glad to see you”
The spoken words work like a charm as her small, delicate lips immediately blossom into a smile.
I grin stupidly, staring at her.
“You look really good by the way. Your hairstyle suits you, really it does”
She absently runs a finger through her hair and replies innocently, “Why, thank you.”
Everyone knows women are strange creatures. The smart thing to do right after that would be to ask her when she had her hair done. Girls like that sort of attention. So, like the smart boy I am, I ask,
” When’d you get your hair done? ”
Still enjoying the attention, she replies
“Oh, I had it done yesterday.”
I mentally add, “and I decided to come show off my new look today”.
Everyone knows girls are a bunch of show offs. They purposely dress super-duper-fine and do stunning makeup just to befuddle the minds of guys. And just so you know, my mind is very much befuddled at this very moment.
Finally beginning to recover my wits, I move swiftly to put the room in as much order as I can muster on such short/non-existent notice. All the while, I can feel Janet’s eyes on me.
I finish my, ahem, cleaning in less than 5 minutes. Partially satisfied, I face her and say,
“Sorry about the dirty and unkempt room, I just feel lazy today”
She waves a hand imperiously, dismissing my apology.
“It’s alright”, she says.
Like it’s not her fault she came at the wrong time. Imagine! I’m having to apologise for receiving an impromptu guest unprepared. Like I was supposed to be prepared for an impromptu visit in the first place. Women!
Wisely, I hold my tongue, not trusting myself to give voice to my sentiments without risking her ire. I switch to another topic.
“How was church service?”, I ask.
I immediately realise my error, but it’s too late.
You see, a lot of men make the mistake of thinking they are smarter than girls. That’s wrong, wrong thinking. Even God agrees that females are by far the cleverer sex. They excel at manipulation and are great at twisting conversations.
“It was great”, she replies. Almost immediately, her eyes narrow dangerously, just as I expect.
Slowly and quietly, she asks the dreaded question. I almost have to lean over to hear her words, but I don’t. I don’t need to. Because I already dug my grave a few seconds earlier.
“Why didn’t you go to church today?”, she asks.
I fall silent.