Chinedu Ogoke - Under Fire

He already heard, Azu replied, but wanted to hear from her. “Oh, my Azu,” Lara said, going for her bag. “You’re so special. It’s like you’re having a card right away.” She pulled out a card and a gold pen. “Mr. and Mrs. Azu, right?”

Dr. Osagie’s presence outside just then offered Imoni the opportunity to avoid any mix-up. The encounter with the man and his niece was brief but resourceful. The kiosk now thickened on his return with additional regulars, Bath, two male students, and a female student. Bath, in his usual crown of jerry and rim of moustache had the floor. Some criticism was directed at his tie. “What are you saying, Lara?” he asked. “Assess me. It’s like, are my shoes alone not worth one T?”

Cynthia and Lara were clapping with unbelief. “It’s like, Bath,” Cynthia stopped clapping. “Why are you getting worked up? Perch, until we get you off guard. And it will be an on the-spot assessment. And, babes will be there, mind you.”

“You can’t try.” Bath joggled lightly. “Any day.”

“And a handsome dud like Bath?” one of Bath’s supporters said.

“Handsome,” Bath said, touching his well-tended moustache. “A handsome dud like me? I’m waiting for you, yet; Lara, Cynthia, or any of you. I’m ready.”

“We shall see,” Lara threatened. “Pass it to Imoni Waltz.” It was a card.

He collected it, and gave her a victory sign. “Lara, Cynthia,” one of the family was calling from outside.

“Eh, Ije is back!” they shouted and ran out.

Meanwhile, Bath and his friends stretched the argument involving Cynthia and Lara. But they soon left. They had to leave, Innocent said, when he noticed Imoni’s empty bottle. Why? Azu wondered. Company-minded Azu. He still wanted them around, placing an order. But he got convinced they meant to leave. He was considerate and let them off, with genuine regrets he was going to lose their company.

“I guess you saw the one T shoes,” Innocent said, as they headed towards the agriculture science complex.

Imoni laughed. “These guys are kids everyday. I almost laughed.”

“Those shoes are not worth more than two-fifty. Bath is a clown.”

“Bat or owl.”

Innocent laughed. He was considering how to finger what the girls would have on their cards on Bath, and how they were going to score him. To see what cards the girls had on him. “You know he pretends to shade me?”

“Does he? Me, too. That empty head. I fence a guy who pretends to shade me.”

“That’s what I do, too. Cardinal fencing. Cynthia does same to me, too.”

“But she’s the one who signed your name on the Lara I.V. you’re carrying.”

“Are you sure?”

“She did. Maybe the shading stuff is a misconception.”

“Look, you see a shade from a distance if you have keen eyes. I learn she once had a brush with Gladys.”

“Well, whatever it is, I think taking the card quickly from Lara and writing your name indicates some maturity. So, why not drop the fence?”

There was silence for a while. They struggled with the sand, in a clumsy stride. Less demanding ground was still some metres away. Innocent surprisingly got around to the Gladys’ incident. He talked about two adults going off at each other in public, blaming Imoni for putting Gladys to it. Imoni stopped on the sandy road, protesting. Innocent interrupted him. “Wait, wait, and hear me out,” he told Imoni. “Look, you don’t have to look too far to recognise the truth. There, at the curtain, she sent for the girl she had accompanied to the boy’s hostel, and the girl corroborated her story.”

“So, I shouldn’t raise eyebrows when I see her coming from...?”

“We blamed her any way, for being impatient, and not waiting to go back with the girl. And again, for not going to your end from there. But she said she appeared foolish, calling your end every time during the NASU break. You were hardly there, and never initiated any call.”

Why did she prefer that isolated road? Imoni thought. He was outraged. He couldn’t start telling Gladys what the rule in uncle Smart’s house was, especially with the telephone, he said. Or how he couldn’t independently go to Benin, but must avail himself of a friend’s goodwill, all of which went burst, and left him helpless and inhibited. Whatever his argument, Innocent told him, he had a tough job on his hands. If he knew and admitted he fell short of expectations, then he must device a strategy of re-establishing himself in the relationship. He lost grip of the initiative by not taking advantage of school’s resumption. He shouldn’t have let the chance to redeem everything slip away. He should get rid of the proud attitude, make a better move, wipe away the flaws with better conduct, and stop defending himself. Imoni promised to correct the assumed misconduct, but said he didn’t like Innocent’s accusation, like he just sat back, enjoying himself, while Gladys ran around to keep the relationship from crashing. “You’re right to think the girl wanted to bench you,” Innocent said. “This thing is only a simple misunderstanding. But where she can really fault you is not running to Golan immediately after her visit. She’s a girl, you know.”

They started moving again. Imoni sighted the blue, Golf car across a farm, a little distance away. The car stopped for two female students. Somebody came out of the car. It was Modesty. The girls got in, followed by Modesty, and the car drove off.

“You know those guys?” Innocent asked.

“I know the guy who just came out.”

“He and the car owner are new students?”

“That’s what they are.”

“They will soon turn oppressors.”

They paused for some compliments before crossing into hall B.

They had now turned off the main road, and were now seeing people in numbers. Innocent wanted them to take a look at some posters before they got sold out, and to follow that up with a lunch at the cafeteria B.

The cafeteria in Innocent’s hostel was expensive, Imoni observed. Innocent agreed. It wasn’t fun having such a cafeteria in one’s hall, he said. It was in a frontier hall. Bordered by female hostels. He was doing it once in a while, for the records. He wasn’t hungry, Imoni said. “I am,” his friend told him. “Alarm. First degree alarm, though.”

“Don’t tell me you’re on 0. 1. 1 so early in the semester.”

He missed breakfast unintentionally, he explained. But from the next week, he would have breakfast off his plan for a good time until the road was clear.

“Mine is never going to be fixed,” Imoni replied. “But it has to be 0.1.1, 1.0.1, or 1.1.0. That’s if I don’t recover the goods.... Cent, I always forget; was it ljeoma who was involved with Lara in that airport hotel cast?” Of course, Innocent replied. They were always together. Ijeoma had her man, but never had any problem with him. They got to the place. “Bolts and Nuts,” Imoni read from a door, on which Innocent rapped.

“That’s a mean one. There’s nobody in the room, let’s go.”

Cafeteria B was tastefully costumed, and never so romantic, announcing its intention to contest the myth surrounding the eating joint nearby, was now awake with its showy patrons. Social conventions were here simply maladjusted. Not a few students claimed familiarity with the music from concealed outlets, snapping fingers, swinging or nodding rhythmically, but all rolled in patent farcical relevance. A strange complexion lined every activity. A student carried a tray with fluffed out manes, packed shoulders, and nodding head. What’s up? Another with a cap on his dark spectacles pedalled stiffly to a table while his female companion improved on it with a hardly-progressive patter. “Perfume guys everywhere,” Imoni said.