The last time someone called Peter to “show him something”, the person had showed him something he wasn’t interested in seeing: a recent SMS debit alert. The person went on to narrate about his “broke ass status” before asking for money – “any amount” Peter had to offer. As Peter buttoned his BlackBerry to conjure his Diamondbank app. He remembered thinking: “God just had to bless me with broke ass friends”.
Now, he looked at his clock. It read 5:37pm. An excitement caressed his diaphragm and he smiled as an image flashed in his mind. He shook his head cursing his vivid imagination. The air became a blend of Uche’s musk; an undertone of Calvin Klein’s Euphoria Men. He felt nostalgic. He had laughed when Uche called it: the best thing to happen to my olfactory lobe.
The clock now read 6:01pm. Peter placed his BlackBerry in his left back pocket. He knocked on Uche’s door twice. He waited. He motioned to knock it again when Uche appeared behind it.
“You wan break the door?” said Uche.
Peter smiled back at Uche. He looked away from Uche’s eyes; the dimples on each side of Uche’s cheeks made him feel uneasy. He stepped past the metallic door as Uche stepped aside to usher him in.
The sitting room had the air of a space that belonged to a tidy bachelor. Everything but two black PlayStation pads resting on the center table seemed to be in place.
“Why is your room looking clean like this?” asked Peter.
“My room no dey clean before?” said Uche.
“I pray oh” said Peter. “No be only clean”.
“I had a guest sha” said Uche. He picked up the pads from the center table.
Peter imagined the kind of guest that made Uche tidy his room: maybe his parents. He collected the pad Uche handed to him.
“Is this what you want to show me?”
“Not really” said Uche “But, I gat show you who be master for this game”.
Peter laughed as he sat on one of the three couches that guarded the center table. It faced the T. V.
“Master my ass” said Peter. “I beat you every time”.
PES 2014 flashed across the flat screen. Peter felt a warmth in his chest. It signalled an excitement, a unique kind that only came from knowing he would beat someone in the virtual game of football. He eyed Uche’s body; it laid on the floor with it’s head resting on the couch, covered only at the groin by a black boxer he considered too small.
They played round after round. Uche’s phone lit and buzzed on the center table. He picked up the phone, checked the caller and stood to walk in through the corridor to pick the call.
Peter slid his BlackBerry out his back pocket. The clock read 11:51pm. He jumped from the couch and made for the door.
“Uche!” he yelled “I’m leaving oh”.
Uche ran back to the sitting room.
“You can’t leave”.
“Why?” said Peter.
Uche felt disoriented by the question; he had not considered why, he just blurted the first thing that came to his head “It’s late. Have you seen the time?” he said.
“So? Are we not in Lagos?” said Peter. “That’s the more reason I have to leave. And, I drove my uncle’s car.”
“It’s not safe. Today is Saturday sef. You can go tomorrow morning” said Uche.
Uche walked to pull Peter into the apartment. The sound from the metallic door cracked the air as he jammed it shut.
“If something happened, it’s me they will blame” said Uche under his breath.
Peter looked at Uche’s face, his eyebrow raised. “You just want someone to play this your game with you” he said as he pushed Uche by his shoulder.
Uche’s face relaxed into a smile.
“Sit down jor. You can’t just win me like that and go na. But, seriously, it’s late. I can’t let you leave by past mid night. Ain’t you like sixteen years old” said Uche.
“No be only sixteen” said Peter. “I guess I could go tomorrow”.
Enjoy my Blog.
You are Awesome.