Ade listened as I talked about the new woman in the neighbourhood, the one that didn’t greet when you greeted her, the one that came through the gates last, and the one that seemed not to have any companion but herself. I told him about the day I saw her at the Mallam’s shop buying bread and I wanted to tell her that the bread had been there for five days and that the Mallam was selling the bread at a higher price to her.
But, I didn’t say anything to her. I had watched as she paid the happy man in the most unfair purchase I had ever seen.
Ade said I was naughty. He added that it was not my business to speak to her on the bread and that God had many children: the ones that liked their neighbours and the ones that liked their privacy.
The day after our conversation, I saw the woman with an elderly man, walking towards the gate, in deep dialogue. This time she greeted me. I looked at her for a little over a minute before I answered ‘good morning, my dear sister’.
At home, I told Ade about our exchange and he asked why I was very interested in the woman. I knew he was irritated with my nosy character but I told him that since he had insisted that I stayed at home, worked at home, he should be prepared to deal with ‘housewife gossip’ whether he liked it or not.
He smiled after this and told me I was more important than a housewife. He said I was a matriarch, the matriarch of the home. I remember feeling more responsible afterwards and giving him a peck on the cheeks. Even though, I felt awkward too being referred to ‘a woman who was older’. So I went to the bathroom to my restore comfort, I pulled off my clothes and checked myself like a doctor would do a child in front of our full length mirror. I was assured that my breasts were still full and fair, that my face hung northward, my legs slim and my skin ever flawless. My assurance was vain but significant still.
Ade asked me to meet our reticent neighbour, greet her or invite her to our church. His words landed in my heart. I knew I had to bring her out of her seclusion like as if it was some sort of baton I had been given. I laughed at the thought.
One Saturday morning, it was the estate’s environmental sanitation day, our ‘mind-your-business’ neighbour who Ade and I had nicknamed, Uneasy Rosy, came out for the first time to help with the gutter. The other neighbours left her and she didn’t seem to care. She brought all the rubbish so intricately like a well-trained social worker.
Ade looked at me and whispered, ‘Go talk to Uneasy Rosy over there. She’s a little lonely, don’t you think?’
I was hesitant so he took my hand and we both walked together to meet her. I am certain we were the only ones that cared about her existence because we were the only ones that were walking in that direction. Ade’s tall frame fed me the look of a child-wife. His square shoulders rose with each step as mine descended similarly.
‘Good afternoon, madam,’ Ade started.
‘Hello,’ she said, looking at us briefly and raking the gutters again with the same intense concentration as she did before.
I had always had a thing against the hello-word that it created an instant bridge against the person you were answering and it, sort of, retorted, ‘Can’t you see I don’t want to talk to you?’
Even though, I pinched Ade ‘with-style’ telling him that we should turn around. My seven-month-old husband stood still like a man who clearly whispered back ‘I see that but I want to talk to you, regardless, and I will.’
‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ she looked up and asked us.
‘Yes, there is. My wife and I were considering if you would join us later this evening for dinner.’
If the floor below my feet could open, I wanted it to, partly because, it was un-African and un-Nigerian to ask someone to join you for dinner. But also, it was because Ade and I looked like hopeless school children that begged for attention from a senior student.
‘That would be good because after all this work all I would be doing is sleeping till tomorrow.’ Then, she smiled and parted her lips to reveal a set of teeth that any dentist would score a ten.
‘My name is Ade and my wife’s name is oi.’ He said stretching his right hand to secure the most firm handshake I had ever seen a woman give.
‘Newlyweds, right?’ she asked.
‘Seven months old.’ I answered.
‘Welcome to the club. It’s not so interesting, is it?’ she asked expecting me to reply.
‘It’s what I expected.’
‘Good for you then.’ She said and returned to her raking.
Ade smiled at me as we walked back and said, ‘You didn’t have to shake at all.’
I knew I didn’t have anything to reply him so I kissed his cheek, an action I did too often that it nearly flattened the elixir it carried. It was becoming too ordinary to me and him. And as usual Ade would never complain. He would never complain about any iota of our intimacy.
The meal was ready by 5:30pm. But I decided to have my bath, wash my hair and pamper my skin before I sat at the table. I wore my pink bustier over a tailored skirt, Ade’s favourite skirt.
Ade told me he would walk to her house by 6:15, he was very particular about her attendance and I was happy that he cared. There were few things I cared about that he cared about too. This, to me, was a miracle. If things worked out well, she would be our first mutual friend. And I believed they would.
Exactly six o’ clock, she was at the door with a bottle of wine. She wore an Ankara gown with rhinestones on the bodice. Her hair was set in place too in a brilliant weave. I felt she was slightly overdressed but she looked appropriate too. A rush of relief filtered through as I gazed over her chest. She was not a full woman, though, beautiful in every other way. She had the European beauty: long neck, long legs, short waist, and pretty face.
Ade had invited her in and asked where she had gotten the wine. She answered it was from a friend who made her promise she had to open it on a celebration.
‘I don’t know when that celebration would come. Abeg! Let us drink the thing jare.’ We laughed and the air in our living room became less tense. I look over Ade as he spoke to her. He touched her once and she shrilled a little afterwards. They thought I didn’t notice.
She loved the food and talked on only intelligent things. She didn’t speak about things that didn’t need to be spoken about.
‘Why did you go into advertising?’ Ade asked.
‘It’s one branch that both men and women alike are given the same chance. I like the equality it gives me.’ Her answer couldn’t have been better put.
She seemed to me to be the most confident woman I had met and her ease at speech didn’t parallel the opinion I had built of her. But it was her ease with Ade, her freedom to talk to him that bothered me especially, the possibility that Ade had found a kindred spirit in her.
‘What do you like best, Alaere?’
‘I like to paint, draw and use my hands to work.’ Ade looked at me and smiled. If we were the only ones, he’d touch me.
‘You studied that in school, I mean, art.’ She looked at the pictures in the house with gracious admiration.
‘No. I studied architecture. We both did.’ I replied with a tinge of politeness.
‘She’s a wonder, isn’t she?’ Ade held my waist and said.
‘Yes,’ she sipped her wine and continued, ‘she is a wonder indeed.’
Ada didn’t help me clear the plates. She stayed there laughing cautiously and telling jokes with similar caution. I tried to dampen my anger but I knew it was my cross and I intended to carry it.
She left at ten and when I reached our room after I finished cleaning the drinks, the plates and setting everything in their place.
I realised that Ade smiled as he slept that night. His face lacked the characteristic frown as of one who was in deep thought. He had never smiled in his sleep before. Inside, I hoped I had not welcomed trouble into my home.
I shrugged later. I consoled myself in the size of my full chest. I was Ade’s kind of woman.
TARE ABANG 