Thwack, Thwack, So This is Love.
Image by Kristina on Unsplash.
The fetid roundabout of Obalende stood glorious amidst the stale stench of urine and unfulfilled dreams. But Wunmi could not be bothered by it. It is 4pm, and delivering this food platter her favorite customer has ordered is Heron's priority. She would not have taken the job but for her bank account, which looked like an FM frequency.
Does she have a delivery guy? Yes.
But today is different. The streets are painted in red and white, flower bouquets and money bouquets, chocolates and cakes, and angry vendors shouting at equally angry delivery guys who have lost one house address or misplaced another delivery.
Today would have been a good day to have a car, Wunmi thought as she haggled with the Agbero.
“Lekki phase 1 na 1k. After Phase 1 na 1200. Ajah, Agungi, Igbo efon na 1500,” the Agbero says with a raspy voice.
“Since when did phase 1 become 1k?”
“That one wey you dey talk na English. Hold up dey. If you know say you no get my money, no enter,“ he responds.
She can't blame him. Even Bolt Drivers have abandoned their cars due to the traffic. Nobody wants to go anywhere, not today.
Wunmi shuffles in her seat. Her butt feels sore against the sore pako chair in the bus. 15 minutes have passed, and the bus is still 5 passengers short of departure. She cannot afford to be discouraged right now. She has made it all the way from Mowe. She's almost where she needs to be.
In another 10 minutes, the bus is filled up and off it drives to the Island.
As Wunmi takes in the sight of the expanse of waters while stuck in the third-mainland-bridge traffic, she pretends to be the titular character in a cinema blockbuster. If there were a movie of her life, it would definitely be a tragic melodrama.
It must be nice to be the only one not expecting a package today.
Unlike her name, she's desired by no man. Wunmi is as single as a lost sock in the laundry, missing its partner.
Even Oga Chidi, her delivery guy, has a partner.
“Madam, na half day I do today o. Me sef wan carry my baby do valentine. I no dey do delivery.”
She takes a deep sigh as she thinks of the loss she has incurred as a result of Oga Chidi refusal to work.
This tragic melodrama is not giving and Wunmi needs a break. As if the Universe heard her heart's cry, the bus moves in response.
She's now at Lekki gate, sitting pretty in her hired vehicle.
Thank God for InDrive. Thank God for ACs. And thank God for this InDrive driver who picked her ride after several attempts.
“Madam, I'm starting the trip”
A brief nod was Wunmi's reply, lost in the sensation of the cool air.
The driver breaks the brief silence with his remarks
“I see you're going to deliver food to your boyfriend.”
Gobsmacked, Wummi stares at him with a bombastic side-eye, waiting to see where this attempt at a conversation was headed.
“You know, Valentine is my favorite festival, second to Christmas,” he continues.
“Maybe it's because they both have red and red is my favorite colour too.”
Wunmi responds with a dry uninterested chuckle.
"Red is such a powerful colour. It is the chromatic embodiment of life's most potent forces: passion and peril. To love is to bleed, to risk the vital current that sustains us. Even the blood that flows through our veins is red. I often wonder if this inherent vulnerability defines the very essence of our existence.”
Wherever Wunmi thought this conversation headed, it was definitely not here.
“Don't let me bore you with my musings,” he says finally after a short pause. “Enjoy your ride.”
The remainder of the journey was observed in silence but for Chike's “Running to you” playing on the radio.
“Good evening sir. I'm already in front of the house…, okay sir. I'm waiting.”
Wunmi glances at her phone before putting it in her back pocket. It's 7pm already. She transfers the food tray from her head to her aching hands. Just then, her favorite customer, Mr Tunde steps outside the gate.
“Thank you so much. I must have stressed you a lot.” Mr Tunde says, taking the food tray from her.
“Not really sir. It was quite easy finding my way here,” she lies.
“Don't worry, I'll make it up to you, " Mr Tunde responds as they move into the compound.
“Thank you for doing this at such short notice. Please, I'll need you to help me make a video to get my babe's reaction. I'm sure she already zeroed her mind on receiving anything today.”
“I'm sure she'll love it.”
Mr Tunde opens the door with his free hands while Wunmi starts recording on her phone.
“Surprise!”
“What the hell is the meaning of this?”
Uhn?!
“What do you mean? This is your valentine gift.” Mr Tunde says.
“You must be mad! I waited all day to get my valentine package and this is what you brought? Food! Do I look like a hungry dog to you?! And to think I told you I'm trying to watch my weight this year. What happened to money bouquet? Designer bags? Wigs? You brought me food, Tunde!”
At this point, Wunmi doesn't know if she should continue recording or not.
“But babe, I…”
Thwack!
A dirty slap lands on Mr Tunde's face.
“And you,” she shouts, turning to Wunmi, “why the hell are you recording me?!”
Wunmi could not reply. She only heard…
Thwack!
Another slap. This time, it landed on Wunmi's face.
“Now get the hell out of here!”.
Wunmi staggers out, too dazed to comprehend what had just happened.
As she scurried home, she could not help but remember the words of her InDrive driver.
“To love is to bleed.”
So, is this love?
