INBETWEEN

Harmattan. It was my favorite time of the year. The cold and the dry wind circled around me. It was best at night, when  I hid under the duvet, enjoying the little warmth it could offer. I could sleep peacefully ; no insomnia or thoughts that loved to revitalize in the darkness of the night. 

I stood at the balcony outside my shop to see the road. It was busy, not as busy as it used to be. Most people were not back from the Christmas voyage but those huge trucks that spoil the road still caused traffic. 

The breeze swished past, making the litters on the balcony  rise in the air and move to a different point on the dusty floor. 

I happened to be the only one in the whole building of about ten shops. My neighbors always resumed the second week of January. The permanent honking of cars and movement made the building to be far from silent. 

I hugged myself in the thick hoodie I wore and went in to lie on a cushion in the little cubicle I called my office. It had a desk and leather seat facing the door. Behind the desk was my sewing machine and a stool which were just infront of the window. 

The outer room was my shop where I hung clothes I made for display. There was Ankara, satin and chiffon of different grades. 

I heard a noise . It sounded like someone talking. I ignored it because it sounded masculine and it could have just been my mind playing with me because I hardly had male customers. It was just one time, a man came to purchase clothes for his wife. Aku, my sales girl was yet to return from her Christmas break and her voice definitely was not masculine. 

"Somebody here? " the voice asked, this time clearer. 

I still lay on the cushion in my office without replying. I was in no mood to get up and if I did reply, all I wanted to voice was, "nobody is here."

"Is somebody here? " 

It came again, a strong baritone. This time it came with a soft rap on the door outside . Realization hit me then. It could have been a store thief checking to see if the coast was clear. I was the only one in the whole building. Suddenly alarmed, I flung my feet off the cushion. 

I checked for something, anything, a weapon even if it's a scissors but I had not unpacked.  My scissors together with other sewing  materials were inside a small 'Ghana must go bag' I packed them before leaving for Christmas. 

I ran out without finding any weapon but Surprisingly, there was nobody in the store. There was a man on the balcony, he was walking down the other locked shops. I immediately called out to him and he turned with his hands in his pocket. His face did not look familiar so I waved him off. 

" Sorry !" I shouted, "I thought you checked here."

"Yes, I did. " was his reply and he began walking towards me. I put my hands underneath my hoodie and waited. I was not sure of the time so I waited for him to greet first. The weather messed with me, made me feel it was morning  even at noon.

"Hello, good afternoon. " he said standing at the railing opposite my door. 

"Good day. " I replied, leaning on the door frame with arms folded underneath my bosom. 

"I just moved in downstairs so I was going around, getting acquainted with the empty building ." 

" You are welcome and you're right, " I replied with a smile. "People are yet to resume for the year ."

He nodded then crossed his legs at the ankle. He turned his head to look down to the busy road. 

"Standing at this place and looking at all these cars on the road is wonderful. " he said.

I nodded in agreement, not knowing how to further the conversation. I was also tired of standing. I needed to go back to my sleep. 

"Sorry, " He said suddenly with a laugh like he heard my thoughts. "I got distracted by the view and then by you. I was not prepared to meet any beautiful person today. "

I snorted with laughter while watching him and he retained his smile. 

" Are you busy, do you want to come inside? " I asked already going inside . 

"I wouldn't want to you know.." He started with a shrug, "You might be busy. "

I smiled broadly at his hesitance, grateful I was backing him. I turned to see him running his fingers over some clothes on display close to the entrance. 

"I make them." I said, smiling satisfactorily. 

That statement made him to closely look at them again as if by closer inspection he would see something that could serve as a proof that they were indeed my handwork. 

"You do? " he asked, and I nodded. He still stood there, examining a pallazo pant I made before Christmas the previous year . 

"You have got some great stuff right here. " he said finally.  

"Thank you. " I replied before stepping into my office. 

I got seated on the leather padded seat behind the wooden desk I normally used to cut dresses. He bent to enter the office because the entrance was lower than the outer entrance. Not just that, he was a very tall man.

I pointed to the cushion I used to take my lazy afternoon naps but he walked to the window instead. He stood beside my sewing machine that was positioned at the window and he looked out with his hands at his back like someone on an inspection. I had to turn to look at him as my seat backed the window. 

There was nothing much to behold outside that window but over grown bushes. Beyond the bushes were houses, unpainted houses with charcoal drawings on them and way further was a railway which was now only used by pedestrians. 

"You have got a view " he said. 

I nodded even though he was backing me. I was fascinated that the bushes and the little unpainted bungalows interested him. 

"What do you do? " I asked. 

He moved away from the window and sat on the stool which was infront of the sewing machine. He shifted back so he could continue looking outside without hindrance from the sewing machine. 

"I am an architect " he replied, "I draw for a living "

"Okayyyyy" I stretched waiting for him to ask me mine but I realized he already knew that. 

"I am Nene though most people call me, Lady. " 

"That's beautiful " he said, now fully facing me. "I'm Tunde. That's the first thing I should have said outside. " 

I smiled with a nod , knowing that both of us forgot to say our names. I, especially went straight to knowing his occupation. There was silence after that. 

"You must be Yoruba? "I enquired , realizing I was the one pushing the conversation. He just seemed to be interested in looking outside my window. He shook his head before saying he was born in lagos and his mother is Yoruba. 

"My dad was actually Igbo."

I noted the tense there but said nothing just smiled and nodded. 

"I used to introduce myself as Kelvin, " he said, "Sometime during my Youth service , there was an old woman in the compound I stayed. She called me whatever felt good on her tongue. Somedays, Kemming other days, Kellin. I had to tell her she could call me, Tunde. That's how she stopped murdering my name. "

When I was done laughing, I teased, "So you think I will call you, kemming ? " 

"No, no, not at all" he laughed, a loud laughter that I was hearing from him for the first time. 

I did not go back to sleep because we stayed talking and when we were not talking, he stared out the window in silence until one of us remembered something to say. We left together in the evening, he waited for me to lock up then he showed me his office downstairs. We talked about alot of things, about the landlord, the customers, even the cars on the road but nothing about us. 

He followed me to a restaurant opposite our work building. It was where I always parked since our building was by the road and there was no parking space. He walked me to buy bread for my breakfast the next morning .

"We should do this some other time, My Lady" he said as I stepped into the car. 

I smiled at the way this new neighbor was already personalizing my name. 

"Buying bread? " I asked, playing naive. 

He smiled, "The walk, talk, seeing you. Let's do it someother time." 

I nodded then he closed my car door.  "Take care, Tunde. " I said and I wanted to add, "I'll call you " when it hit me we didn't exchange contacts. 

I keyed into the ignition and he shifted back, watching me. I smiled at him before driving out, looking through the rear, he was not standing there anymore but there was a car, a black Ford just like mine behind me as I drove out of the fast food. 

The ride home was stress free, no traffic, just a smooth ride. Today was not like 'normal ' days at work. Normal days at work were always filled with work that any form of socializing becomes luxury which I never accepted. I knew deep down that 'Someother time ' as he requested might never happen. Today doesn't happen often. It only happened because he is a fine ass man and I was without work on my table.

As I drove into the compound, the gate man was trying to tell me something. I ignored him so I could park well. It was after I parked that I saw him sitting on a chair , his eyes on my car. Seeing him there rose heat up to my neck. I had always thought I could face him but that moment, as I looked at him, I wanted to start up the car again and drive backwards till he was smashed into the wall. I remained glued to the car seat because I did not trust my self control . 

How was I going to do it? I thought I now had immunity. I thought I had grown. It was a new year; I thought I had left all the pain, regrets and disappointments in the past year. I thought I had forgotten, but with him there, I knew I was still vulnerable. 

I masked my anger by putting a smile on my face before gingerly stepping down from the car just so he would see that I had no emotions to spare for him.