Escapades of Toun: Part IV

Escapades of Toun:
Part IV – Love in a time of swag

Toun hadn’t had lunch in the kitchen all week and, each time Aunty Rachel brought her cup of Milo in the mornings, she told her she missed her.

               Toun missed her too, but she and Marques had decided to keep their romance out of the office, which meant no more kitchen visits. After they met on the bus in the mornings, she didn’t see him again till closing.

               But he sent her messages on the company inter-connect service, the PC Operator; little one-liners during their usual rendezvous times:

               Have a good day, beautiful, at tea break: 09:00hrs             

               How’s your day going? at the pre-lunch hour: 10:30hrs

Wish you were here, at lunch: 12:00hrs   

               I miss you, at the post-lunch hour: 14:30hrs

Can’t wait to see you, at the pre-closing hour: 15:30hrs

Toun found herself blushing at her computer screen often times and had to catch herself, lest Yerima and Ogbete summon her again.

She was happy, truly happy.

One day, Marques had a porter deliver to her two homemade vegetable fish patties. Toun looked at the foil-wrapped patties and her stomach filled with butterflies at the thought of him. When had Folarin ever baked her anything?

She was slowly adjusting to having lunch at her desk with the commoners on her floor, who argued loudly about Premier League matches, who had grave things to say about the present government administration, chatted about who should have won the MTV Africa Music Awards for Best Collaboration, or which celebrity was dating who. Mundane, numbingly boring conversations. She missed her conversations with Marques; she missed his voice and his bright mind.

---

About a month after Ogbete and Yerima had humiliated her, a month of make-out sessions in Marques’ finely furnished living room, and drinks and suya on his balcony, he asked her out officially and he did it in the grandest of styles.

She was working at her desk when the glass doors to the floor office slid open and Marques stepped in. Her heart skipped a beat. He looked very handsome; his polish shoes almost glistened in the light. He swaggered over to her desk and she knew that the whole office was watching them.

She yanked her ear phones out of her ears.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered.

Marques handed her the piece of paper in his hand. She scanned through it, saw the Phillips & Chain logo, saw that it was addressed to Human Resources, saw his full name and hers in bold print, saw the words disclosure and romantic involvement, saw his signature at the bottom.

Her mouth dried.

“Marques—”

“They can’t threaten us if it’s out in the open, can they?” He said, confident, a man who knew what he wanted.

She was still staring at the letter, dumbfounded, when Yerima’s office door opened behind them and she called them both in.

---

The three of them waited in heavy silence at the round table by the window before Ogbete joined them. The air was thick with tension. Toun was mad at Marques for dragging her into this without asking her permission. But, somehow, she felt relieved, even happy.

Ogbete rushed in, grabbed a chair by the door and strategically positioned herself between Toun and Marques.

Toun tried to steady her breathing.

Ogbete had a copy of the letter with her and she read it aloud, after which she peered over her glasses from Marques, to Toun and then back to Marques.

“Mr. Price.” She said. “I’m sure you’re aware of the gravity of what you’re doing?”

“Gravity?” Marques chuckled lightly. “I disclosed a work place relationship to the company, which is company policy. Isn’t it?”

“Yes. It is. And it mustn’t be done lightly.”

“What makes you think I’ve done it lightly?”

Ogbete sighed. She turned to Toun, lifting the letter. “Do you know what this means?”

“Don’t try to guilt trip her.” Marques’ voice was edgy. “Obviously, it got out that we’ve been seeing each other. And you’ve already intimidated her once. I spoke to legal and the policy is that employees disclose their relationships to HR, not that employees are prohibited from dating each other. But, please, correct me if I’m wrong.”

               Ogbete shifted in her chair. “Oh. So you’ve taken this up with legal.”

               “Absolutely. You intimidated an employee. I wasn’t going to have that.”

               “I did not intimidate her.”

               Yerima, who had been silent until then, spoke. “Mrs. Ogbete did not intimidate her and, if Toun told you that, then she was lying.”

               Marques looked at Toun, who kept her eyes on the letter in Ogbete’s hand.

               The silence persisted.

               “Well.” Ogbete stood up. “We’ll keep this in your file. For future reference.”

               Marques stood too. “I’ll trust you to do just that.”

               The two hesitantly shook hands and Oghete left.

               Marques looked at Toun, who could barely lift her head up.

“I’ll see you later,” he said.

               She nodded.

               Alone with Yerima, Yerima’s voice was coated with pseudo-concern. “Toun, don’t let this man deceive you,” she said.

               When Toun didn’t respond, she took it as permission to continue.

               “He’s old enough to be your father, don’t you think?. There are many, younger men you can be dating. Do you know what that relationship disclosure letter might mean in the future for you, when a permanent position opens, or a higher-paying contract position? It could be detrimental. That letter means that you’re choosing a man over your career. Don’t throw all of that away for a man, a fling with a man his age, at that.”

               When Toun had heard enough, she stood up, thanked Yerima and told her she would be at her desk.

---

After work, Toun called her mother and told her she had to meet a friend at Ikeja City Mall and would be home late. She texted Nike and told her she was seeing Marques after work, told her not to lock the gate and that she had gist for her, to which Nike replied: Ashewo, no sleep outside ooo!!

               Toun met Marques at the car park and they climbed into his car. Moses had been sleeping in the driver’s seat. After a few minutes searching for the car keys, he started the engine and they headed towards Bourdillon.

               “You should have told me you planned to do that,” Toun said. Her head was resting on Marques’ chest as they ambled through Island traffic. He smelled sweet and, after that stunt he pulled, was too alluring to resist.

               “I know.” He rested his chin on top of her head. “I’m sorry. I was just very mad at those two prudes.”

               “Did you really speak to legal?”

“Absolutely.”

“Who?”

“Tobusun Williams. Do you know him?”

               She shook her head.

               “He’s a legal advisor to the MD. Early fifties, been with P and C over two decades. Anyway, when I told him I was seeing someone and she had been threatened by HR, he told me it wasn’t allowed.”

               “Does he know it’s me?”

               “No.” Marques paused. “I’m afraid he… might not approve. You know… the age difference, the culture.”

               Toun looked up at him. “No one approves.”

               He touched the side of her face. “Does that worry you?”

               She shrugged, returned her head to his chest. “No.”

---

In his apartment, they undressed quickly. She hadn’t been down the corridor beyond the guest toilet before. His bedroom had cream walls and a wide bed. His bedside table was clustered with magazines and loose sheets of paper. There was a desk across the room which had a laptop on it, along with a dozen more magazines, textbooks and coloured files.

               The duvet was soft against her naked body, the beddings so supple it felt like she would melt into it. The pillows smelt like him. He went into the bathroom and came out with a condom. She watched him slip it on, remembering all the times she had had to beg Folarin to use protection.

               Older men were better.

               Far better.