-The Missing Rib

Must Read: The Missing Rib… Part 5

If You Missed The Part 4, Read It Here

When I turned, Femi had stood up to tower above me, and I found myself searching desperately for something to say. He relished the effect he was having on me and something warned me that this was not the sweet Femi of yesteryears; that he had grown harder and wiser in the ways of the world. Then he smiled and said, “I have missed you Oyin. Ten years, and I’m still single, still without a woman because I carried you into every relationship I had.” What! Alleluia. Somebody say glory! Let the angels proclaim! His words were music to my ears. I was expecting harsh words, but he had opened up to me like this. Oh, I’m gonna make it up to you Femi, I’m going to meet your every need, be your every comfort and we will never be apart again.
I covered the distance between us in a single stride and held him in my arms (I’m proactive ;)). “Oh God,” I cooed to him, “I’ve missed you so much. I’m still single too (had to let him know quickly that I was available too o), no one else could do, no one else could take your place, absolutely no one. I’m so sorry for…” He placed a finger on my lips and said “shhhh. Don’t even bring that up, it’s the past and it’s forgotten. I’m just glad you can still be mine.” I was about to die and go into the ninth heaven. This was too good to be true, I was reeling with happiness, I felt like singing a hymn, oh joy eternal. I was already seeing aso ebi, white wedding dress and a cross continental crisscrossing trip for the honeymoon. I even mentally called myself Oyin Tosh, to see how it would sound. It sounded as tush as my current name. Perfect! By the time Hot Pastor came back in, we had already exchanged the following
*.Phone numbers
*.BB Pins
*.My House Address and the Hotel he was staying
*.A kiss.
He walked me to my car and I left floating on air. On my way back home, a keke napep brushed my car, and the guy had already come down and was prostrating and begging. But no keke napep was stealing my joy. I just went back into my car and drove off, shebi the scratch was kuku very small.
Toke came by and thankfully brought Shoprite bread so I didn’t have to warm anything. We just did the bread with butter and juice. I downloaded the day’s event for her. “The same Femi thatmumutisedfor u?” Toke asked. “You are just a foolish child, en you this Toke for bringing that up. You wan cry pass the person wey e dey pain?”
Just in case you are wondering what I’m talking about, let me explain. Mumutising is the art of you being a mumu for your partner. I have a theory that everyone mumutises at least once in life (some people do it severally, some learn sharply and never mumutise again ever, the key phrase is ‘at least once’). So I was the partner Femi mumutised with. Anyways, back to my current convo with Toke.
“Did you take any pictures with him, I wonder how he looks these days,” she said. I checked his DP on BBM. Not his picture. Toke entered espionage mode. “Shebi he’s a bestselling author. Let’s Google him. We should see some recent pictures”. I sharply powered up my laptop and did just that. Yes there were pictures o, plenty. He was really big outside Naija. There were pictures of him with celebs from all around the world. Nia Long, Tyra Banks, Serena Williams, Djimon Honsou, and many more. And he had access to all these hot hot celebs and he had come back to me. Right then, I felt like I was the fairest of them all, omo toh quality gaan. “Hmm, Oyin, this all seems too good to be true o. Hope there is nothing wrong with this guy. Abi he is gay ni”. Sparks flew in my eyes, “What kind of talk is that now? So something must be wrong with him for him to come to me? If you want to abuse me, say it plainly now, don’t use style.” Toke was taken aback by my outburst “Haba, cool down now. I’m just talking as your girl. I have to have your back and in my experience, once it seems too good to be true, it probably is.” “Okay o,” I said rolling my eyes, “I have heard you.”
We relaxed to our meal while watching American Idol. We were so engrossed in the gist and TV that I didn’t notice my BB blinking until American Idol was over. A big smile came to my face when I saw who it was. Femi. He had sent a voice note some forty minutes earlier. It went something like this “Hey babe, hope you still like wearing those lovely gowns. I’ll come by to pick you up at seven for dinner. Make me drop dead when I see you, ciao.”
Toke took the phone and played it over and over again, singing Banky W’s Omoge you too much as she did. That girl was just so silly. I checked the time. It was five thirty. Ninety long minutes before my future husband came to take me out. Mr. X, Kalu and the rest of their likes seemed like a distant past now.
Dressing me up for the date required two hands o, no be small matter. We spent thirty minutes on the internet before we picked out a look (as the bobo is used to celebs, make me sef try now) and then systematically went about transforming me into that look. By the time we were done, Toke was sweating and I was dazzling. She wasn’t going home anyways, she had clothes in her car and would just go to work from mine tomorrow. I was thankful it was a Sunday, because the housecleaner came this afternoon, the house was looking spick and sparkle. By the time we were done with preparations, it was five minutes to seven. Ten minutes later, his call came through. “I’m turning into your estate, so I’ll be at your house shortly.” “Alright boo, I’m dressed up and ready”, I replied and hung up.
Moments later, the doorbell rang. Toke went to get the door for me, while I went into the room to take one last look at myself before letting him see me. When Toke’s bbm that he was seated came in, I took a breath and stepped out. I checked for his reaction. I could tell he liked what he saw. I went to the door and opened it and struck a sexy pose “shall we? Or would you rather spend the evening looking at me?” He laughed as he stood up “that wouldn’t be such a bad idea you know?” He covered the distance between us in two strides and had his arms around me in the same movement “as tempting as that prospect is, I have something special planned for this evening, so we should get going.” Special something, something special. The words rolled in my mind and I could see him on one knee in a restaurant proposing to me tonight. I couldn’t wait.
We got to the place somewhere in Phase 1 and he led me through the restaurant, up some stairs and then to an open roof with a table for two already set, complete candles lit. The picture of him proposing to me in my head was now in high definition and 3D. We had a lovely three course meal, and talked about beautiful things, his life, my life (the good, wifely parts o, no Mr. X). We even talked about things like number of kids, type of bedroom furnishings and co. Every time his hand went below the table, I expected it to come up with a ring.
After the meal, he held my hands and looked into my eyes. I was sure this was the moment, the climax. First he asked me if I enjoyed the meal. I nodded, cat got my tongue. I could hear the drum rolls now, he would do it any moment from now.
Then he hit me with the bombshell. “You know the saying ‘Revenge is best served cold’”, he said with a twisted, sardonic smile. “So you dey find readymade husband. Your father!” he said, opening his palms at me. Then he stood up and left me there, sitting transfixed to my chair. The shock kept me pinned to the chair, motionless and speechless for some minutes. Then I called Toke “Please come and pick me up”.


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