Lanre. III.

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Lanre. I.

Lanre. II.

You found out about Grace from Rasheed, the gateman.

It had been a slip of the tongue and after he casually said, “Oga and him friend don already buy fuel” and you asked him Which friend? he could see the look in your eyes, and he knew he had said something he should not have said.

You asked again and again and he kept saying, “Madam, no be my business, no be my business.” And then he must have gotten tired of you asking, or embarrassed for you, and he told you everything; Lanre had been coming home with a woman with a nice car during his lunch breaks for a few weeks now and this particular day, they had bought fuel for the generator, which is why when you handed Rasheed money for fuel, he said he didn’t need to buy fuel because the generator was already filled up.

You left Rasheed in the driveway under the sun as he was rambling on, saying again and again, “Abeg, madam, no be my business o.” 

You climbed up into your flat. At the front door, you stopped and sniffed the air. You were trying to smell another woman. You smelt nothing. What does another woman smell like? The apartment smelt like you and Lanre. Just the two of you, like it's always smelt.

You searched the entire house – your bedroom, the kitchen, the guest toilet – looking for something, anything that was out of place. Nothing.

Then you sat down in the living room, brought your phone out of your purse and began to work up the nerve to call him.

What would you say?

Rasheed said you have been bringing a woman into the house.

How foolish. Would you really be the woman who fought a man because of another woman? You could not believe what was happening. Four years and you hadn't even found so much as a text on Lanre's phone you questioned. Morenike and Deola called you both lovers in paradise. It had been smooth sailing. And now this? Your mind was spinning a thousand miles an hour. 

You called Deola.

“You say wetin?” She barked into the phone.

“I’m not sure, but Rasheed said—”

“You dey house?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t move.”

Deola turned up an hour later, and within that hour you had contemplated calling Lanre thirteen times and thought better of it. You had instead gone through his pictures on Instagram, all the way back to a picture he took at Elegushi beach a few months before you met at Ruth’s party. Nothing seemed amiss. No other woman.

Deola came in breathing fire. 

How dare he? After all you both had been through? After all you had done for him?

When she said that, you paused, and tried to think of anything you had done for Lanre; any bloody thing. You came up blank. The flat you were living in, your fabric shop in Ikeja City Mall, the car you were driving; they were all Lanre’s making.

Deola asked you for the woman’s name but you didn’t know it. She called Rasheed and asked him for her name, and he stood in the middle of the living room, still mumbling, “Madam, abeg, I no want trouble, no be my business o.”

After walking from room to room, searching for remnants of this woman and finding nothing, Deola sat down next to you, sighed and said, “You have to confront him.”

You didn't respond.

“Did you hear me?” She took your hand and shook it. “I know you hate confrontation but you have to. It's the only way.”

* * *

When Lanre came home in the evening, you were still on the sofa, as Deola had left you hours before, sitting, lost in the maze of your thoughts.

He dropped his laptop bag on the dining table and walked over to you.

“Good evening to you too,” he teased, pulling your cheeks.

When you didn’t smile, he paused.

“What’s wrong?”

“Who came to the house today?” You asked.

He flinched and you knew then that whatever would leave his mouth next would be a lie.

“I... don’t understand, babe,” he said after a while.

“I was going to buy fuel. For the gen. Rasheed said you and your friend had already bought fuel. Which friend, Lanre?”

“Oh.” He laughed then, uncomfortably, lifted a hand to the back of his head. “Grace. She’s…”

“She’s what?”

“A colleague.”

“Why are you bringing a colleague into our flat when I’m not home, Lanre?”

Lanre placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed.

“Babe. I'm sorry. It was stupid. She needed to use the toilet and we were on our way back from seeing a client. Remember the Turkish guy who wants to open an account with us…”

His voice drifted off when he realised you weren’t interested.

“Sorry,” He said. “ Babe. I’m sorry. It was dumb. It was dangerous, as you would say.” He chuckled then. Patted your cheek and started walking towards the kitchen.

“So she needs to use the toilet like… every day?”

His back was turned to you but you saw him stiffen.

He turned around, slowly.

“Babe. I said I was sorry.”

“For bringing a woman I don’t know into our house? Or for bringing her into our house every day?”

That was when he lost it.

“There is nothing going on!” He spat. “Please don’t do this shit you do with your paranoia.”

Please don’t do this shit you do.

With your paranoia.

I know you hate confrontation but you have to.

It’s the only way.

You stood up, picked your purse up and walked to the front door. Lanre followed you, saying he was sorry, he didn’t mean that, it had been a long day, he was tired, he shouldn’t have said that.

You opened the door and slammed it shut behind you.

In your car, you waited for Rasheed to open the gate. He had pity in his eyes as you reversed out of the compound.

You spent the night with Deola, who called Morenike, who turned up with red wine and suya.

You all sat in front of Deola’s laptop, watching Suits, cracking jokes that were not very funny and avoiding the elephant you did not want to address because you knew that your heart would feel sick to the point of collapse.

By midnight, they had both dozed off and you sneaked into the bathroom to see if Lanre had called.

He had. Twenty-two times. He had sent two text messages; he was sorry for bringing her into a house he shared with you, he was a fool, he was going crazy, he didn’t know where you were, Deola and Morenike were busying his calls, Grace was just a lady at work, that was all, he swore on his father’s grave, he just wanted to talk to you, to talk it out, he just wanted you to pick up so he could hear your voice, please.

When you found out months later that Grace was not a colleague but was a client he had opened an account for and had fallen in love with -- if you had not been attending to a customer at the store when Deola called you and told you what she had found out -- you would have driven to Third Mainland Bridge and jumped.

--

Lanre. IV.