MAGICAL MONDAYS WITH 'KREATE'

CHAPTER XV

Sumbo

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I lay naked on my bed, reminiscing. It had been about four weeks since the memorable night we first made love. We had done many things couples did: like patronizing our favorite restaurant, visiting theme parks and tourist attractions, going to the cinema, eating hot-dogs, and secretly making little jests about comical characters on the street. And of course, making love. Lots of it. 

Last week, we had an in-house barbecue at  Akin’s. Akin and Tubosun had gotten along in no time. I had been glad when Akin said he approved of him, even though he didn’t really have a say in my relationship with Tubosun. During the four weeks, I had also discovered that Tubosun’s curiosity was immense, and sometimes exhausting. While watching a scene in a law court, he’d ask what material was used to make a lawyer’s wig. While getting a bus, he’d ask why the lady in front of the queue would wear a short tee if she intended to keep pulling it down to cover her exposed lower back. And on and on, he’d badger me with more questions.  He was also a worrying machine.

On several occasions, he’d drift off into a thought for a minute and I’d nudged him out of it, asking what was at the back of his mind. Today, it was his younger brother complaining about how things were different since their father assumed the unemployment status. Tomorrow, it was about securing a job that was related to what he had paid thousands of pounds to study and how he hated his current place of work. And the day after tomorrow, it was about what and where he’d be in five years. I was grateful for one thing, though: Tubosun had moved on from the life of unnecessary guilt he had had for the death of his friend.  I cared about him a great deal. Loved him in fact.  Even more elating was his professed love for me too, on more than one occasion. And there was not a shred of doubt in my mind about the truth of it. The door to my bathroom swung open and Tubosun stepped into the room. ‘Freeing that poop was rough,’ he said, shutting the door behind him. Then his hands rose in a gesture of triumph. ‘But I feel refreshed now.’ My face twisted into a grimace. ‘Keep your poop business to yourself, man. Be a gentleman for once.’  He leaped on the vacant side of the bed. ‘Everyone poops, sweetheart. Even you,’ he said acerbically, sticking a finger at me. ‘Poop business is serious business. It cannot be ignored.’ I heehawed and said: ‘I still wonder how you can perform the act proudly while I’m around.’

‘Nothing to it. Perhaps you should try it sometime.’

‘I will not be pooping anywhere within a five-mile radius of you. Not in any foreseeable or unforeseeable future. Get that into your marshmallow head,’ I pronounced, jovially.

‘We’ll see about that um -’ he appeared to be racking his brain, ‘gherkin head.’

‘Ah!’ I exclaimed incredulously. ‘You cheeky bugger!’

‘Cheeky bugger? Didn’t know you were British. So you are allowed to call me names and I can’t repay the favor?’ His eyes were glinting with tease. 

‘No. I’m a lady.’

‘Talk about double standards.’

‘Whatever.’ I said dismissively but affably.

After a moment of quiet, he drummed on the wooden wall separating my bedroom from the living room. ‘I wonder why we don’t use a lot of woodwork in houses in Nigeria.’

‘Has anyone ever told you that you ask a lot of questions?’

He smiled, ‘I’m sure you know I’m a thinking machine, unfortunately. Sometimes, asking questions helps prevent my mind from straying into a whirlwind of thoughts. Especially when a lot of those thoughts are worrisome.’ 

Before now, I had never realized there was a correlation between his thinking and questions until now. It was true that nothing existed in isolation. I edged closer and rested my head on his bare chest. ‘We should do something that would give you more fun things to think about.’ 

‘Like this?’ he asked, shifting his position and kissing my lips.

‘That’s not what I’m talking about, silly.’ I giggled, pulling back a fraction. ‘I meant sky diving.’

‘That would be an adventure,’ he said absently, and kissed me again. This time I succumbed.   

Tubosun

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‘Are you sure this is safe?’ I asked disconcertedly as the taxi disappeared, leaving us outside the gate of a large airfield. A small plane was visible through the iron-wrought gate. Suddenly, the prospect of skydiving didn’t seem so adventurous. 

‘It’s my first time so I wouldn’t know for sure, but I reckon it is,’ Sumbo said without any vestige of a nervous tic. 

‘You could have added that bit of information before coaxing me into this trip.’ I uttered incredulously, raising my voice slightly.

‘Calm down, sweetheart. I’m sure we’ll be alright.’ She said and gave me a light kiss on the cheek. She pointed to the sky. ‘Look. It’s clear and hazard free. We’ll be just fine.’

I calmed down a bit. ‘Well, what better way to die, if not in style,’ I said, trying to sound unperturbed. It failed to have the intended effect on me. 

‘Don’t be dramatic,’ she said. ‘Come on, let’s go in.’  As we headed towards the only white, two-storey building within sight, two huge blondes sauntered in our direction. Their bright purple jumpsuits gleamed in the pale rays of sunlight.   On reaching us, the taller extended a hand to me. ‘Hello, I’m Isabelle. We’ll be your instructors.’ She had a cocksure, dare-devilish aura about her. Her accent wasn’t English.

‘Tubosun,’ I replied, shaking the outstretched amiably. The other was saying to Sumbo as I replied, ‘I am Isabella. And we are not sisters.’ Sumbo chuckled. ‘Sumbo and it’s a pleasure meeting you.’

‘Swedes?’ I asked. ‘Uh-huh,’ Isabella replied and Isabelle nodded. ‘This way, please,’ Isabelle said, gesturing us towards the building. ‘First time?’ Isabella was asking Sumbo as we drew closer to our destination. ‘Yes. I can feel adrenaline pumping in my veins,’ Sumbo replied. ‘What a coincidence. It’s our first instructing exercise in England.’  Isabella said. That didn’t sound reassuring but I remained mute, lines of anxiety edged on my face. Isabelle must have caught the worried look as she suddenly slapped my back playfully. ‘Cheer up, dude. We are kings of the skies. You couldn’t be in safer hands.’ 

We handed in copies of online payments to a grinning brunette at the reception stand, who in turn, signed us in. Isabelle and Isabella then led us to a large room with two changing closets and a rectangular table of skydiving gears. I had done a bit of research so none of the equipment seemed strange. There were: protection helmets and goggles; containers – backpacks with thick leg and shoulder straps that should hold the main canopies, reserve shutes, and drogue parachutes; other leg and shoulder straps with connectors that would attach instructors to students in tandem; parachute harnesses; and two portable circular clock-like devices that could only be altimeters. 

‘Your jumpsuits are in the closets,’ Isabella announced. ‘Tubosun take the right. Sumbo take the left.’

We were airborne in another forty minutes. On board was some guy whose sole responsibility was to open and shut the aircraft’s door, a skydiver/videographer, Sumbo strapped to Isabella, and yours truly strapped to dare-devil Isabelle.  Isabella had just finished giving a brief talk about the process of skydiving. I threw a glance at Sumbo: she didn’t look so sure of herself. I grinned at her and she smiled back.

‘Fifteen thousand feet!’ The pilot called from the cockpit. The doorman did his business, letting in a rush of wind and a slightly misty sight that got my heart beating with dread. I suddenly needed to take a dump.

‘Time to Tandem with Style!’ Isabelle bellowed emphatically, urging me to the door.

‘We are going first?’ I asked.

‘Don’t be a pussy!’ Isabelle shouted.

I clutched my strap and clamped my eyes shut as we fell into the abyss. Actually, it didn’t feel like a fall. In fact, the air below felt solid as if we weighed nothing. I managed to pluck up courage and opened my eyes. I peered down at the landscape below. It looked like a painted masterpiece, ethereal and unreal. My initial fear vanished with the wind that beat against my chest and gave way to something a rush of exhilaration. A distant scream that could only belong to Sumbo played through my ears. I spread out my arms like a gliding hawk and screamed in abandon as a toddler would. I was alive. 

 

 

Kreate is a budding Nigerian writer with a flair for fiction. Writing for him began sometime in secondary school where he dabbled in poetry and plays. He has authored two self-published short novels.
He is a banker and lives in Surulere.