“Please, stop the car.”
She repeated, this time slowly. Damola slowed down looking for a good place to park before finally killing off the engine. The air in the car was filled with tension. Some seconds of silence passed between them before he said.
“That day at the restaurant was another family drama day for me. I had moved out of my family home a month before because my father technically disowned me. That month I had slept around until I was able to sort my housing and a place for my studio. It was something I had already anticipated. I had been saving up for its eventuality but still, I was not fully prepared. Everyone thought I had been stubborn about the whole issue and should be the one to call and apologise which I did but my dad still angered by the issue said very nasty things to me. I had gone to the eatery that day hungry and also angry about the things he said to me.
I'm not trying to excuse the way I behave towards you that day. I just wanted you to know what was responsible for my behaviour. I'm not usually like that but I should have known better. I'm very sorry for what I said and how I acted that day. I know we all have our issues and trying the best way we can to handle them.
I'm also sorry for some minutes ago. I should have told you I was going to stop by at the office to pick up a few things but it’s fine, that can wait. I can still drive straight to your place if you don't mind.”
He turned to look at her but she said nothing and only shook her head. He started the engine and drove straight to her destination. This time no word passed between them except for occasionally when he asked her for directions. He still remembered her street but he still asked to be sure he was not headed the wrong way.
The drive seemed longer than it should and tension thick enough for a knife to cut through hung between them. They finally arrived at her residence, it was almost dark but he could still make out the person in front of their apartment. The lady he had spoken to on the phone who had come rushing to the hospital on the day of the accident. He had assumed they were friends because no resemblance at all. While the lady in the car with him was tall, around 5ft 7 or inches 8, the shade of her skin was like that of rated peanuts. The colour of the cloth she could make look on either on the light side or the dark side.
The other lady who was about to approach their car while they both stepped out was on the short side, her skin was also very light almost white which made him think she could be mixed. There were also more differences in their appearance aside from colour like the facial features. He could bet his cards that the one with him was from the north. Her features and accent, light but still noticeable screamed northern but the other one could be from anywhere it was hard to guess because of her mixed origin he supposed. Another difference is possibly religion.
“Oh, Yasmin! Thank God! I was already getting worried that you are not yet back. I called your line severally but you were not picking up.’’
She rattled on as soon as she got to them. Damola watched her squint at him as he said
“Hello.”
Then realisation dawned on her and she smiled sheepishly.
“Please forgive my manners. Good evening.”
“I'm sorry. I left the phone on silent.” Yasmin explained to Lisa before turning to face Damola.
“Thank you so much s...”
“Damola.” He quickly offered, realising all through the ride he had not introduced himself. He knew hers because her colleagues called her that and now her friend but not his.
She nodded.
“I appreciate everything and I apologise for what happened earlier.”
“It’s alright.”
He said and offered her a small smile. Then she muttered something to her friend before walking off, towards their flat.
Feeling awkward and not knowing how to go about it, Damola stood there and watch her leave. He wanted to ask for a phone number. I should have asked her in the car. He smiled at her friend, said his byes and was about to turn and hopped into his car when she stopped him.
“My name is Lisa, short for Monalisa. My apologies for my friend's behaviour. She could be tough to understand sometimes but she is a very lovely person.”
He nodded.
“I understand Lisa. I'm Adedamola. The shorter form is Damola. Nice to meet you properly.
“Nice to meet you too. And also, for the other day. Thank you so very much. We didn’t get the chance to properly thank you.”
“It's nothing really, I just did what anyone would have done.”
“Ah, not everyone o...”
She laughed as she switched her queen's accent to Nigerian. No particular tribe in mind.
“...You were God sent.”
The way she had switched from her polished English to the everyday one spoken on the streets of the country seemed very intentional. Like something she would do while talking to a friend. He liked her already.
On a second thought about the number.
“Lisa...” He started.
“Yes?”
The worst thing would be, that she would apologise and tell him she would need to ask her friend first.
“...I'm wondering if you could please help me with your friend's number. I thought to get it from her before I leave.”
He watched, waiting for her to say she'd not be able to give him without her friend's permission. It would break his heart but he would understand. It was proper after all especially if that person took a lot of privacy in giving out their information.
“Of course, why not. You're our good Samaritan.”
She said grinning. She took his phone from him and punctured the digits into it and handed it back.
“I saved her number with Yasmin. I entered mine too if you don’t mind. You know, just in case she refuses to pick up. You can reach me to talk to her.”
He grinned back. Lisa was surely someone to like with a very friendly attitude and if he was to get closer to Yasmin, he would definitely need her.
“Thank you so much.”
“Don’t mention. I just did what anyone would have done.”
He laughed at her echoing back his words. He thanked her again before turning to hop into his car. She waved at him as he zoomed off into the distance.
...to be continued.
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