Sister Deborah. - Season 1 - Episode 7

5 years ago

Sister Deborah. - Season 1 - Episode 7

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“Let’s have a toast!” Deborah cheered after popping the wine’s cover lid and then poured some into my tumbler and into hers as well.

I was still shocked, obviously, but there was nothing I could do about it anymore. The wine had been opened already and nothing could change it. I had to play along.

I took up my glass and raised it up. “A toast to a new beginning and a solid friendship ahead!”

Deborah raised her glass likewise. “A toast to a solid friendship!”

We both smiled and clanked our glasses to a toast.

“Cheers!” I exclaimed, gulping down my wine.

“Cheers, and a happy valentines!” She cheered, taking a gulp from her glass as well.
“Do you celebrate valentine?” I asked randomly in a bid to start a proper conversation with her.

“It depends.” Deborah responded mildly. “I don’t often go out so . . . I hardly do.”

“So what do you do instead?” I persisted further.

“I prefer staying indoors with my baby.” She answered.

Instantly, my heart skipped two beats on hearing her mention the word ‘baby.’
“Your baby?” I repeated, slightly vibrating.
“Yes, my baby.” She laughed. “My phone is my baby!”

Immediately, my mind calmed down peacefully after she clarified her statement. I would have possibly committed suicide if it were to be the other way round!

“What about you, what do you do too?” Deborah questioned, taking another gulp from her glass.

“I don’t even celebrate it.” I admitted truthfully. “I am mostly indoors with the guys; Hakeem, Timi and Fatai. We either play ludo games or discuss on random issues, that’s all.”

“Sounds boring to me!” Deborah yawned jokingly, forming a stale uninterested facial expression.

“So… tell me about your family.” I asked, in a bid to further our conversation.
“Where do I even start.” Deborah exclaimed, looking nervous.

“Anywhere you feel like starting from. Feel free!” I assured her gently.
She heaved a slight sigh. “Alright. I am the only daughter from a family of five. I, my parents and my two elder brothers. I hail from Ibadan but I virtually spent most of my life in Imo state. I was born and bred there.”
“Ibadan?” I repeated, amused. “I don’t believe you. It doesn’t show on your face in any way!”

Deborah giggled. “Do you expect me to have it on my forehead! I inherited the traits of an Igbo-like resemblance from my mother, of course.”

“But I don’t really get it. I mean, how come you hail from Ibadan and you happen to spend most of your life in Imo state?” I asked curiously.

Deborah heaved a sigh and looked away before speaking. “Sadly, my parents are long divorced so I was solely left with no choice than to stay separately with my mother in her state, which happens to be Imo state in particular. I was raised there all my life.”

“What about your father?” I inquired, taking a sip from my glass.
“He’s doing well wherever he is, by God’s grace. He stays here in Port-Harcourt with my step mother. Even upon how close we are, I still feel very distant and far from him. I hardly feel close to him unlike my mother. It’s just not the same.” She concluded, taking a sip from her glass as well.
“Iʼm sorry to hear that.” I tried comforting her, also tactfully twisting the subject to another topic expertly to avoid Deborah getting emotionally traumatic.

“Do you speak Igbo?”
“Well . . . somehow somehow, but not fluently.” She answered.
“Let me test you a bit. What does “Ututu oma” mean?” I questioned, expecting her to say something wrong. To my utmost surprise, Deborah smiled and calmly replied. “It means good morning.”
I was baffled. We both laughed over her accurate response and then I took the bottle of wine, poured some quantity into Deborah’s glass and filled mine as well.
“So tell me about your family background too, Neche.” Deborah asked after taking a brief sip from her glass, and then folded her hands on the table, glaring at me.

“I’m Chinechem. I’m quite tall. I’m typically the guy of every woman’s dreams. I aspire to build a mansion and own a Lamborghini in future. I also aspire to have someone like Deborah as a partner. Is that enough?” I blurted out in a rush, indirectly trying to make her laugh and at the same time, indirectly trying to express my feelings for her sarcastically. Fortunately, she laughed at the joke but unfortunately, she didn’t seem to understand or read meaning into the last phrase of my words.

“You’re very funny. Is that your family background I asked for? Silly boy!”
“Don’t mind me. Just kidding.” I slightly laughed and gulped down a large portion of my wine, cleared my throat and continued, “As for me, I am blessedly lucky to be the only son from a family of four. I, my parents and an elder sister altogether. Though I originally hail from Owerri but I prefer my mother’s side, Imo state.”
“Why?” Deborah asked, showing more interest.

“I just admire their ethics and culture, that’s all.”

“Isn’t it the same thing? After all, you guys are all Igbo combined.”

“It’s not the same thing. We are different tribes.” I responded. “Besides, I’d like to ask you something, Deborah.”

“What could it be, if I may ask?” She exclaimed, obviously curious.

I leaned down and stretched my hand underneath our table and picked up the polythene nylon I had brought along with me. I opened it carefully as Deborah watched keenly, took out its content and placed it on top of the table.

“I brought it exactly how you gave it to me.” I said as calm and plainly as I could.
Deborah’s reaction was oddly complex and partly amused until she spoke. “Why did you bring it back?”

“Why did you give it to me?” I questioned back, dismissing her question.

“You told me you lost your phone including your wallet yesterday, didn’t you?”
“I did, but still…”

“So that explains it.” Deborah interrupted me. “I gave you this out of my own free will. Use it as a replacement for your phone.”

“I mean no offense but I’m sorry, I can’t accept this.”

“Why?”
“Do you realize this is a Infinix hotnote mobile phone, Deborah?”

“And so? It’s mine. I’m giving it to you willingly. I got it as a birthday gift from my father early this year and I have the receipt, in case you doubt me. Have it, it’s yours now.” She concluded with an approving smile.

At that point, I didn’t know what to say, how to react or how to act either having realized that Deborah’s words and intentions were truly out of her own free will. I felt utterly amused and somewhat emotional but I didn’t let it show.

“I am grateful, a whole lot. Thank you.” I simply said; forcing a smile as well.
“You’re welcome.” Deborah answered, never letting go of her gaze on my eyes as well as I remained mine fixed into hers.

I smiled slightly, she smiled as well and coincidentally as I stretched my hand towards the bottle of wine on the table, so did she. It happened to be a brief reflex action as we brushed our hands against each other’s and finally ended up grabbing the bottle together, hand-in-hand. Our eyes maneuvered upwards into each other’s gaze and we both smiled again, uttering nothing. I then removed my hand from the bottle and watched Deborah refill our glasses quietly.

After filling the tumblers, she took a sip from her glass and turned to me. “Won’t you switch on the phone, Neche?”

“Not now. I’ll do that when I get home.” I calmly answered, gulping a sip of my wine too.
“I already wrote my number at the back of the phone pack. Give me a call whenever you retrieve your line, alright?”
“Sure, I will.” I nodded.

Suddenly, a deafening scream erupted from a corner of the restaurant followed by a loud resounding slap. It was further accompanied by a loud bottle bang on the wall, and immediately, people began taking to their heels towards the nearest exit door.

From the center of where we sat, I could see a clear view of two guys brutally fighting over a lady; both armed with broken bottles. Hastily, I picked up the nylon containing the phone pack and scampered outside alongside Deborah, leaving our unfinished bottle of wine behind.

Outside of the restaurant, a ton-fold of customers had trooped out in large numbers and were murmuring and raining curses bitterly. I and Deborah however, barely catching our breath, stood at a far end amongst other customers.

“What’s going on?” She asked, slowly regaining her breath steadily.

“I think it’s a fight or so.” I replied. “I am sorry for the ruined night. This wasn’t the way I planned it.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” Deborah nodded solemnly. “Maybe next time, hopefully. I enjoyed your company in all honesty.”

Before I could utter a response, Deborah’s arms embraced me tightly with a warm hug, and then she withdrew, smiling.

“I have to go now, Neche.” She announced to my dismay. In as much as it was arguably getting late already, a part of me still wanted to spend more time with her, but I seemingly had no alternative choice. I had to see her off to the nearby junction.

When we got to the junction, I halted a taxi heading for campus, precisely at the female hostel, since I and Deborah weren’t going to the same direction.

She smiled and waved at me as she was about entering the taxi when I stopped her.
“Have this.” I said, handing her a bouquet of flowers. I had bought them on my way to the restaurant earlier and reserved them in the polythene nylon with me. Deborah laughed and gleefully collected them from me, and to the least of my expectations, she slowly leaned forward and tipped on her toes to match my height, and then she pecked my cheek. Afterwards, she got into the taxi and waved at me as the vehicle moved while I stood there, waving back and at the same time, utterly dumbfounded.

Finally, at last, she eventually felt something for me. I literally exploded with immeasurable happiness!