MAGICAL MONDAYS WITH 'KREATE'
WELCOME TO CHAPTER EIGHT OF THE MIGRANT
YOU CAN READ THE PROLOGUE, CHAPTER ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX & SEVEN BY FOLLOWING THE LINKS.
Baron had been right to say I’d need that money. My first few days had been a sore experience. I had only made four pounds so far. The very first guy I had panhandled, a guy in casual attire with average height and a smiley face, had told me, in these words: ‘bugger off back to Africa. England isn’t for black beggars.’ The rest either ignored me or politely declined. Perhaps they could detect amateur timidity in my voice. The only one who had dropped four one pound coins into my fingers had done that without my asking. The lady had walked up to me as I leaned against a bus-stop tent outside the train station, frustration conspicuously written over my face in the clear frosty morning of day four after Christmas. It didn’t take a genius to see that doing well in this trade was a far cry from where I stood. A future where I’d actually become a pro at this seemed like a time when horses would begin to fly. To make matters worse, attempting to find a cashless job was only met by futility. It appeared that that time of the year had low to zero employment prospects, especially for an illegal immigrant.
But, as far as imploring strangers for coinage, Baron made sure I didn’t dwell on this trail of thought: ‘It gets better with time, mate. You’ll see.’ Hanging out with him and his soliciting crew in the evenings were the highlight of my day. Everyone, except Sarah, one tune, was friendly as ever. Clement and Clever, aka Twins Effect, always had ludicrous, albeit entertaining tales to share. Peter, Fancy words always had a couple of new vocabulary to throw in your face. Honestly, as much as I had a decent portfolio of lexica, I had never come across some of the words he used. So, I admitted that he was a step ahead when it came to words. Recently, he had been looking a bit fatigued, I noticed.
Suzie never hung out with the lot but she smiled at me every time chance brought us together, her underfed, faithful dog never left her side. Sarah conversed with the other guys in her serene voice but she still hadn’t come around to giving me a wave, not to mention a hello. I would go distant when her fingers strummed the strings, like she was high on cocaine and in another realm; a realm as sad as the look in her eyes, as dark as the unhappiness embedded in the melody of her musical instrument. Yet there was something appealing about her and fans loved her with copper and silver British coins.
Contrary to my initial opinion of Baron, he never spoke a lot. In fact, of all the members of the group, he spoke the least. It was true that you couldn’t judge a person’s personality from the few times you’ve spent with them. He always had this amused, attentive look on his face like he was observing everyone else for some research objective. What Gentle Gee, the tall dude from the gym, had told me about Baron still played at the back my mind like a continuous rerun of a game show with the same enticing questions. And indeed, sometimes, I toyed with the idea of speaking to Baron about it. After all, he knew my story. But I always reached the conclusion that it was none of my business, until he was comfortable enough to include me.
These were the musings of my mind as I groomed my hair with the aid of the mirror in the men’s toilet of the university, my home. It was shocking to stare at what I had become. I had lost weight, my hair lacked lustre and my eyes had mini bags precipitated by sleepless nights subservient to anxiety. And I looked a good four years older than I was. Fuck, I thought. I shook the sight off my head. It was New Year’s Eve today and I was looking forward to a night with the guys. There was to be a get-together of some description at Baron’s house. In retrospect, I had expected the members of the band to air some form of surprise when he extended the invitation, but they seemed to accept it like it was a regular occurrence. Then again, I suspected that they’d known him long before I came into the picture. So I played along, ignoring the urge to ask the expected valid question that should have being in every sane man’s mind: What was a homeless man doing in a house?
Locating the address wasn’t as onerous as anticipated, not with the scribble I had made from the Find Your Location website. Some random student at the library had been gracious enough to provide access to the internet via his student account. Thankfully, the distance between my point A and Baron’s point B was projected at twenty-five minutes. A good thing; not just because it was freezing and brittle outside, but also for the fact that I had only five pounds left in my entire deep pocket.
I arrived at an ajar, huge auburn gate five minutes earlier. The cold had propelled me to walk faster than intended. It was the last address on that street and the distance between it and the residence before it had been enough to indicate that substantial affluence lived in the area. The floor felt like brick beneath my feet the moment I stepped inside. The air smelt of freshly mowed grass and chimed with the thousand voices of busy crickets. A few metres in front stood a mammoth house that glinted against the light of the full moon like there were pieces of sequined silver crafted into its structure. Gentle Gee’s account of the house’s size was clearly not an exaggeration. Without taking into cognizance the lightning provided by the opal ball in the firmament – a word our preacher in my local church in Nigeria used to refer to the sky – the house was pitch black, like a silhouette against the background of the night. A few yards beside the edifice was a shed big enough to serve as a stable for half a dozen horses. Three low energy bulbs emitted pale orange rays around it. As I drew closer, gloved hands in my winter jacket’s pockets, the bricks under my feet giving way to soft grasses, my ears picked up the faint sound and beats of playing music. By the door was a small window that had previously gone unnoticed.
As I made to knock on the door, it suddenly pushed open. The music instantly became louder. Cigarette sticks dangled loosely from the delighted and mildly surprised faces of Clement and Clever. Over a pair of truly faded, clearly dirty blue denim trousers, Clever wore a worn-out, long-sleeved, grey sweatshirt with a notable tear at the base of its right sleeve. Clement had a black knitwear that had had indubitably lost its youth but there were no visible tears or holes in it. His grey pants actually looked new. In all, I’d never seen the pair of them look this good.
Clever opened his mouth to say something, and the cigarette fell off his lips. ‘Fuck,’ he said animatedly, stooping to pick it up. Clement was better at it. ‘Hey Two Pounds,’ he greeted. His lips were bent at an awkward angle as he spoke, but the roll-up did not drop. ‘You alright?’
‘Yeah,’ I nodded, pounding his fist. I nudged his twin, who was now dusting off the cigarette. ‘Your ciggy still in good condition?’
Clever grinned, and I noticed he was missing a tooth. I wondered what he had been up to. ‘Nothing a good brush off can’t fix. Good to see you again, mate. Tonight is gonna be a blast.’ He put the cigarette back in his mouth.
‘Yeah. I expect it will.’ A chill ran through my spine and I shivered. ‘Dude, what happened to your tooth?’ I asked.
‘A long story involving a sucker punch from an idiot. I’ll provide details about it later. You should go in. We can’t allow you freeze to death on our watch, can we? He threw his brother a glance.
‘Not on our damn watch.’ Clement seconded. ‘Baron and the guys are in. We’ll join you lot in a moment. We seriously need a fag now. See you in a bit.’
‘See you in a bit.’ I went in and shut the door behind me. For some reason I was expecting it to be cold inside, but it was a relief to discover it wasn’t. It was actually really warm. Instinctively, I scanned the premises and I spotted a radiator at a left corner of the wall. Inside was illuminated by the same pale yellow light from another bulb. The interior space was big but not as big as you’d expect from the external architecture so I figured there was a door somewhere leading to another room, although I didn’t see it. Though, I saw a drape of cotton that was probably shielding a door. There were a fairly large table in the middle of the room flanked by two long upholstered couches that had seen better days. On it, I could vaguely make out two bowls of crisps and biscuits, two bottles of wine surrounded by wine glasses, a pack of cards, and what looked like a board of scrabble. I couldn’t help but wonder who had provided food and entertainment.
Sarah was chatting with two ladies, whose backs were turned towards me. Sarah looked lovely in a plain blue dress. Her hair was knotted and pulled back into a pony tail. The duo she was making conversation with had identical pink dresses. I didn’t recognize the other ladies from anywhere. Sarah’s eyes met mine and I inclined my head in acknowledgement, but as usual I didn’t get as much as a hello. But this time, I could almost swear that there was a subtle, smiley glint in her eyes. Perhaps, it was just wishful thinking. Baron was bent over a DVD player pushing some buttons.
I took off my knapsack then my coat and hung them on a curved rod of a long wooden plank nailed to the left side of the wall closest to the door. Its crude visage suggested it was self-made. By the time I turned to face the group, Baron was striding in my direction in his rumpled long-sleeved, blue shirt tucked into grey pants. ‘Two Pounds!’ He called. ‘Was beginning to wonder when you’d turn up. Was just about to ring you.’ He stretched a hand and drew me into a brief hug. ‘Did you find the place alright? No qualms?
‘None, mate. Cosy place you’ve got here.’
‘Thanks.’ He put his arm around my shoulder. ‘Come let Baron introduce you to the ladies. Don’t think you’ve met them.’ And we walked across the room to where the ladies stood.
‘Hello ladies,’ Baron greeted in a semi-raised voice before getting there.
‘Hello Baron,’ the three ladies replied in unison. The two strangers swiveled to face us. Instantly, I noticed they were identical twins. And a visceral thought told me they were friends of Clement and Clever, if not more. They were both blonds. They both had blue wild eyes. They were both attractive. But one seemed to have an inch in height over the other.
‘Meet Baron’s mate, ladies. I’ll let you guys do the introductions.’
The tallest of the pair was proactive. ‘He is quite lovely.’ She whispered to her Sarah in a not so subtle way, and reached out a hand. ‘Jenny. Pleased to meet your acquaintance.’
‘Francis,’ I replied, taking her handshake. ‘The pleasure is mine.’
‘Hi,’ the other twin simply waved. ‘Jade.’ The other’s voice was polite, friendly but timid.
I acknowledged her with a smile and a nod. ‘It’s nice to meet you Jade.’ I glanced at Sarah and I noticed that she was looking at me. I was certain now that the look was neither antagonistic nor condescending; and they definitely did not hold whatever unfriendliness I had learnt to associate with them. It was a steady look that was almost amiable. But she said nothing. I noticed she wore light makeup today and it suited her well. She looked beautiful.
I realized something…no someone was missing. I turned to Baron, ‘Where is Peter?’
‘A bit under the weather,’ he replied.
Jenny chuckled and I wondered what she found so amusing. As if I had been pinched, I threw her a half accusing, half questioning look.
‘Sorry,’ she stopped chuckling. ‘It’s just that Peter rhymes with weather.’
‘That’s unfair,’ I said, then winked. ‘It could be a fever.’
We all burst into laughter, Sarah too. And it felt good that I had finally triggered a conspicuous positive reaction from her. Poor Peter, but it was funny. Suddenly, the doors swung open letting in a gust of icy air and causing our laughter to stop. The twins sauntered in. They must have noticed the expressions on our faces. ‘What you guys on about?’ Clever said. He kissed Jenny briefly on the lips.
Clement kissed Jade in a similar manner. ‘Yeah guys, we have the right to some guffawing too.’
Jenny spoke: ‘We just made up some nursery rhyme about Peter. Listen to this:
Where is Peter?
A bit under the weather,
that’s unfair, it could be a fever.’
And then she cracked up. Clever and Clement followed suit. Everyone else joined in.
Unfair hadn’t been part of the rhyming scheme but I had to agree that it tallied nicely.
Clever stopped suddenly; over his face was an expression that said he was looking for the next best rhyme. ‘Wait guys, I think I have something.’ We all obeyed. ‘Right. It goes like this:
Where is Peter?
A bit under the weather,
That’s unfair, it could be a fever,
Or perhaps his dodgy liver.’
And he fell into another fit of laughter. I joined in. But after a second or two, I noticed no one else was laughing. In fact, they all had disapproving looks. So I stopped. Clever did too.
‘Come on, mate,’ his twin said, shaking his head.
‘That wasn’t even funny. You should have known better,’ Sarah chided and went to seat on a chair.
Jenny punched Clever’s shoulder. ‘You just had to ruin a good night with your foul, unbridled tongue,’ she said following Sarah.
‘Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to.’ Clever now had the face of a child that had just being scolded by his parents.
Baron simply shook his head like a disappointed father. I was lost here. What was happening? As far as I was concerned, it was funny unless there was something I didn’t know about. Is Peter’s liver bad or something? I threw a probing glance at Baron.
He sighed. ‘Fancy Words has got terminal cancer. Cancer of the liver.’
A response of condolence should have been in order, but I was tongue-tied for a moment before I uttered: ‘Shouldn’t we go pay him a visit or something?’
‘He is at his mum’s in Scotland.’ And then he said aloud: ‘Hey guys,’ Baron was all smiles now. ‘enough telling off for Clever, today. We know he’s got a big mouth but we love him still. Let’s play games, celebrate, it’s freaking New Year’s Eve. Besides, we all know Fancy Words wouldn’t have it any other way. Don’t want him exploding into syllables of disapproving vocabs when next we see him, right?’
That got everyone smiling again. ‘Right,’ agreed everyone. I admired Baron. One moment he was all grown-up and wise, and the next he was all ridiculously crude and informal. It was glaring why he was so popular and loved within his group.
Those still standing now took a sit. ‘Yeah. Two pounds,’ Clement said. ‘Clever has got one heck of a story to tell you.’ He nudged his brother. ‘Don’t you?’
‘Uhm -yeah,’ and then he perked up. ‘Let me tell you the tale of my missing tooth. It all began with a bloody wanker….’
Soon everyone was laughing again. After all, Clever was probably one of the best story tellers around. And Clement coming in at the right time to include some funny snippets made it all the more hilarious. The night rolled into card games, munching crisps, sipping from glasses of wine, and corresponding fun. I caught a few furtive glances from Sarah. She still did not say anything but her smile was as obvious as it was directed at me. Maybe the wine had loosened her up. Perhaps the wine was meddling with my sense of perception.
Baron and I were having a game of scrabble – and it was obvious I was going to lose by a landslide – when someone’s alarm clock sprang to life. ‘Thirty-five seconds to another year, guys!’ Baron called.
Everybody got on his feet. We all held hands, forming some semblance of a full circle. And the countdown began: ‘Twenty nine! Twenty eight! Twenty seven! Twenty six! Twenty five! Twenty four…’
I remembered father: The time we spent together, our laughs, the familial squabbles, his death and the country that stole him from me. An admixture of sadness, agony and anger settled into my core. A single tear rolled down an eye. New Year’s celebration with him had always been a small affair but profoundly enjoyable experience. But no more.
‘Nineteen! Eighteen! Seventeen! Sixteen!’
The memory of late Mohammed floated in like a spectre tasked with haunting a weak man. I felt responsible for his death. Perhaps if he had not helped me…
‘Eleven!’
Amina, a highlight of the year. The few moments we’d spent together had left an indelible print in my mind. But fate or a deliberate action from her had snatched away future reoccurrences. I turned to look at the door. It was a ludicrous hope, but like a kid staying awake at night with the hope to catch Santa come down the chimney, I expected her, by some brush of miracle, to turn up. Of course, she didn’t.
‘Eight!’
The image of Uncle Eddie flashed through my mind like a lightning strike. One moment it was there and the next he was gone. His impact in life, I decided, was of no consequence.
‘Six!’
I observed the motion pictures enfolding around me. At the unlikely friends I had made. The twins and their partners were jumping and screaming at the top of their voices. Sarah was awkwardly trying to keep up with them. Her eyes were now fixed on me. It seemed to exude burning desire like the one I have seen in movies. A funny feeling settled in my head as Baron’s voice replayed a phrase: She wants to shag your brains out. I shook the thought off. It was absurd.
‘Happy New Year!’ There was one loud whoop and everything went silent, but for the soft music playing from the DVD. I felt Clever’s hand unclasp mine. He was probably going to kiss his girl. Baron gave me a hearty hug. ‘Happy New Year, Two Pounds.’
‘Happy New Year, Baron.’ Then someone tapped my shoulder. As I wheeled to face the person, I wasn’t prepared for what came next: A kiss straight on the lips. It lingered for a moment or two and then she drew back. It was Sarah.
‘Happy New Year, Francis,’ she smiled.
‘Er-’ it took me a second to reclaim my bearings. It wasn’t shyness just a response to being taken by surprise. ‘Happy New Year, Sarah.’
She smiled and went off to extend her greetings to the other ladies.
Baron winked at me, but said nothing. Yet his eyes had this look that said: There is more to come.
‘Francis the snogging machine,’ Clever said, slapping me playfully on the back. ‘Happy New Year, mate.’
‘Happy New Year, Clever.’
‘It’s not a snog until cuddling is involved,’ Clement said, giving me a hug. ‘Never mind that, though. From what I have witnessed, one is not so far away. Happy New Year, mate.’
‘Happy New Year to you too,’ I replied.
Soon everyone had greeted everyone. We opened another bottle of wine and toasted to the New Year and all the possibilities it had to offer. Then it was time to leave. Sarah walked up to me. ‘Never been to that university where you sleep. Would you like to show me around?’
My smile was sheepish. My heart had falling into a rhythm of nervous beats. ‘Err…I don’t see why not.’
The university was deserted and quiet like a graveyard when we arrived. We met a guy who was fiddling with a bunch of swipe cards as he made his way to a door by the reception stand of the building. With a smile, he waved at us before shutting the door behind him. The only sense of life left in the premises was the changing slides from the mute electronic display boards. At the moment, the one I was looking at had a simple message that was highlighted in white: We wish you a happy new year.
It was amazing to discover how much a person could change in such a short period of time. Forty-eight hours ago, the best response I had received from Sarah was –actually it was nothing. An expert execution of bleak nothingness. Now, her left arm was interlocked into my right arm, and she was whistling softly. We hadn’t so much as shared a word on our way to the university but it was obvious that she was comfortable around me. The naughty twinkle in her eyes when she looked up at me had been proof. The smile on her lips had told me so. My heart’s racing had not abated. It had been impossible to get rid of Baron’s words from my mind. They kept playing over and over again like tunes from an annoying stereo that were in a constant loop. Was she really here to fuck my brains out?
Was she really here to fuck my brains out? The possibility of an affirmative answer to this question wasn’t the only rationale my agitation. To be honest, the anticipation of this likely outcome was thrilling and my erection was in congruence, so much that I had to utilize my trousers’ pocket and other hand to keep it in place. I had never had sex before now. The closest I had ever gotten to the act was fondling a girl’s boobs under a tree at night, in front of my home in Nigeria. I remember loving the feel of how soft and warm they had been; the excited rhythm of how her chest had risen and fallen; the corresponding soft moans that had escaped the mouth of Zainab, the daughter of the local Imam; and the pulsating response of my phallus as she squeezed. In retrospect, I may have had sex that night, or at least climaxed, if father’s car honk had not suddenly pierced through my ecstasy shrouded consciousness.
Ah! I shook the feeling off. Sex wasn’t happening tonight. It couldn’t be that easy. It took several months of knowing Zainab to get her to that place. The warm feeling between my thighs didn’t succumb to the logicality of my mind. I had to distract it.
‘So what do you think about the place?’ I asked.
‘Quite lovely. I like how serene it is. Quiet in a secretive kind of way. Like anything could happen.’
She wasn’t helping at all. An awkward smile played across my lips.
‘So where do you sleep?’
Gosh! She really wasn’t helping. We had reached the base of the stairs that led up to the Open Access area. ‘Upstairs. Would you like me to show you?’
‘Wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t.’ There was a playful smile in her eyes. She was so relaxed and the look suited her in a way that I found really attractive.
And we ascended the stairs, walked through the computer area and into my corner of the building.
‘Colourful,’ she said
‘What?’ I asked, settling my knapsack on the purple sofa.
‘The sofas. They are colourful. I like them.’
‘Yeah? Would you like to have a seat in my humble abode?’
She took a seat.
‘I must apologize in advance. My kitchen is out of order so I’m afraid I have nothing to offer you.’
She laughed. ‘Hmm,’ she winked. ‘I’m sure we can work something out.’
I had no response to that. Baron’s words resurfaced.
Sarah studied the lounge as if she were looking for someone or something. ‘Where is the men’s room?’
‘You meant women’s?’
‘I know the difference, Francis. I’ve always wanted to do it in the Men’s. I don’t think an opportunity like this would present itself again.’
I almost asked that by doing it, she meant urinating? But I decided not to delude myself. After all, the meaning couldn’t be any plainer. Fuck! She wanted sex. I was about to have sex. The raging hooves of the stallion in my heart were painful now. It was going to happen. I tried to sound natural. Unsure if I pulled it off, though: ‘Right. This way.’
‘You can stop restricting your poor willy,’ she joked as we walked to the male toilet.
For some reason, that had an ameliorating effect on my nervousness. I laughed. ‘So you knew?’
‘Impossible to miss.’
I expected her to head straight for any of the water closets since they had doors. Instead, she started undressing, right there by the sink. Red hot adrenaline pulsated through my veins. What if some random guy came in? It was unlikely, but what if it happened? And yet it was thrilling to be breaking the rules. Perhaps it was true that man had a penchant for the forbidden.
Soon she was stark naked. Although dainty and fragile looking, her poise exuded confidence as she leaned against the wall that separated the row of urinals and the wash basins. She had orange sized breasts: the pink nipples contrasted her pale white skin delightfully. My eyes dropped to the V between her crossed thighs: the area was spotted with hair stubs like it had been recently shaved. As if she could sense the next thought that crossed my mind, her legs parted invitingly. My throat suddenly felt dry.
‘Are you going to get out of your clothes and stop ogling?’ She teased.
Soon I was out of my clothes.
Her gaze dropped to my swollen penis. ‘Impressive. This should be fun.’ She wasn’t looking at my face, chest or legs. She beckoned with two flicks of her finger.
Suddenly, I didn’t want to have sex anymore. Creases of sweat had formed on my forehead. It was my first and I didn’t want to embarrass myself. My hands began trembling. I had to think of an excuse: ‘Are you sure you want this? I’m not sure I can give the expected more that tends to come with this.’ The moment it was out of my lips, it sounded like what a jackass would say. Fuck!
She laughed. ‘You nutter. Francis. I’m not in love with you or anything like that.’ And then as an afterthought, she said quietly: ‘where the fuck is love, by the way? It’s taking too late, I tell you-’ She sighed. ‘At least in my case.’ And then she perked up. ‘So all I’ll do is climb who I fancy till love decides to show up. I’ve got needs after all. Stop being silly. Come over here and do what a man does to a naked woman. Or are you a virgin?’
Once again I had no response to that. But my penis dropped a notch.
Her eyes widened and she looked like she was about to say something witty till she changed her mind. ‘Fancy that? I have never had a virgin. I almost feel rotten,’ she smiled. ‘Oh well. I’ll show you.’ She produced a condom from behind her. I wondered where that came from?
Soon she was rolling the latex up my manhood and leading it inside her. She moaned as I filled her up. It was warm, wet and welcoming there. I thrust once, twice, and then briefly three things happened almost simultaneously: A fuzzy feeling filled my brain like it was going to explode; a spasm tore through my body; followed by a shuddering release of intense bliss. And yes, a cloud of heavy disappointment settled over my head. Before today, I had always perceived myself as a stud.
Sarah giggled. ‘Usually, I only shag a bloke once. But you’re a tyro. It’s a plus that you also have a big dick. So I’ll make an exception. Let’s try this again, shall we? There’s a condom in that dress.’
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