A story written by INEGBENOISE OSEODION OSAGIE. (07068221839, 08093828575, [email protected])
Sometimes, Saturdays were good. This was. Not only because of the warm streaming sun, but because it was spent under the roof of the church, before the holy crucifix, front of God’s priest. The priest declared the vows and they said the “I do’s.” The ring bearer presented the rings. The church clapped as Richard pushed the ring into Ezinne’s finger. Everybody clapped. His best man, Jide, clapped. Ezinne smiled and gave him more kisses.
They returned to their Chippendale chairs and listened to the priest’s remaining talks before the widening of arms for hugs. Jide hugged, rubbed shoulders, praised, teased, and did all he was good at. Erneto’s staffs hugged. Some pecked, some shook and some patted. The white girl came, hugged him, and then, Jide. She whispered something in Jide’s ear and a snigger emerged. Then came Ivie, looking good in her new hairstyle—a mixed pattern of cornrows. Some aligned to the bottom while others followed a zigzagged path. He tried not to admire much, not to admire how much she gracefully streamlined with her green gown. She hugged Ezinne with a speck of smile, which the gap in her teeth made different, inimitable. She hugged him, giving him all of her pomade’s fragrance, and then hugged Jide. Jide gave her a pat at her back.
The service ended. They entered the Pathfinder, and rode to the hotel for the reception. His squad’s van was parked at a space, and standing by it, were about four or five of his squad members, who walked to him on his coming down from the Pathfinder. They saluted, grabbed shoulders and ragged at his wife. His wife and he proceeded to the arranged seat. He looked around, trying to locate any girl in green. Those present either weren’t fair, or didn’t plait cornrows, or were so tall, or so short, or didn’t have a hole at their teeth. None was she.
To Be Continued….