02

“Good morning, Lena.” The man named Tobias said, placing his big arms on the arm rest of his black leather chair. He leaned back, making his pot belly protrude. He was a short man, brown skin with an air of importance around him. 

“Good morning.” I said, taking a seat without being asked.

Tobias shrugged and glanced at the paper on his desk before turning to me. “Your aunt said you arrived yesterday and in fact your accent confirms that. It hasn’t changed at all”

My lips parted but I managed to restrain myself from voicing out my thoughts which could've had a poisonous effect. What was the point of bringing up my accent? I knew that there were many foreigners in the states with different accents. So, why had the few people I'd spoken to given me weird looks when I spoke? Perhaps, they were trying to discern if they'd heard my kind of accent before. This was even strange considering I didn't have a heavy accent. It was clear that I did not have an American accent but that was a good thing because my accent was part of my identity as an African woman. I had no desire to swap it for an American one.

“I hope you're ready for this because there's no backing out,” he slurred, eying me.

I already had the answer to that question and I was ready to face the situation. I had to do this for my parents because I was the only child they'd remained with. My brother had died of poisoning five years back and before we had forgotten about it, my sister was murdered. It was hard to think that those events were coincidences.

Going back to Uganda meant death and shattering the remaining pieces of my parents' hearts. This person had made it clear that they had no intention of killing my parents but wanted to make them suffer, by breaking them piece by piece until there was nothing left. I was not going to let them succeed by being weak and cowardly. I had to face the situation like so many other woman who'd done so before me. I knew that numerous women from all over the world had gone into paper marriages and had bravely endured all problems associated with them.

“Tell me what I need to do,” I said, smoothing my skirt.

“Yes, boss.” He said and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. The way he said it made me think he was clearly used to people kneeling at his feet and begging him to help them. I was desperate but wasn’t planning on showing him. “All you need to do is get the money ready, meet your match and get to know everything about him while you tell him about yourself. Take lots of pictures together and in two months, you can claim you're in love with each other. That's if you don't actually fall in love. It'd be good for you both if you did.”

“Well, that's not going to happen.” I interrupted. “The falling in love bit.” 

If someone was desperate enough to get in a paper marriage for money, they would never be my perfect match. It was not that I was a money minded gold digger but I preferred to date a person with a stable income. No matter what people said, I still believed love was never enough on its own. Somehow, those other issues would always come up and destabilize everything.

“That's not important,” he dismissed me with a hand gesture. I began to think he was quite a jerk which was probably true.  “You'll get married and might have to live together. No need to consummate the marriage if you don't want.”

“Of course,” I chipped in. “I'll not sleep with some strange desperado even if he is good looking, which I highly doubt.”

“You're just saying that,” he laughed. It was not funny. “After a few months together, he won’t be a stranger to you. Who knows? You might even be the one who falls in love first.”

I was about to give him a big piece of my mind when his phone rang and he answered. “Yes...send him in.” 

He turned to me. “Your match is here.”

My match. He made it sound like he was a matchmaker working in a dating service. 

“Okay,” I took a deep breath, hoping he looked good, at least. At this point, there were so many questions in my mind. What did he look like? Was he a good man? A bad one? Did he have any weird mannerisms? Was he addicted to anything? Why was he doing this? It might just be a paper marriage but in the eyes of the law I'd be his wife. If he wanted, he'd force me to do things I did not want to do. I shuddered. What if he was an outcast no one wanted and this was his only way to find someone?

The door opened and in walked a seemingly middle aged white man with black hair. He was wearing a red hat and had so much weight on his body, bags under his eyes and a slight smell of cigarettes. I'd definitely gotten the worst of the bunch.

“Jeff,” he proffered his hand with yellow nicotine-stained fingers and I reluctantly shook it. 

“Nice to meet you, Jeff.” I lied, noting his yellow teeth, one of them missing. “I'm Lena.”

“Quite a good liar, aren't you?” He sat on the chair next to mine. His eyes travelled to my rear and he seemed a little disappointed then turned to my face. “You're one beautiful African woman, though.”

I turned to Tobias who had an amused expression on his face. I wanted to ask if there was another option but that would be rude. Jeff wouldn't like it and annoying a person who now knew what I was up to was not in my best interests. 

Even with limited knowledge about him, I thought that a marriage with Jeff would be like signing a deal with the devil. I needed time to think it through.