DIARY OF A CORPER — EPISODE 14: HOME IS BLISS
And honestly, I needed that comfort.
I had been in Lagos for five days.
Five days of not waking up early to prepare for work.
Five days of not thinking about the draining life I had in Lokoja.
Five days of not avoiding my friend.
The problems had not disappeared completely. They still crossed my mind from time to time, but now there was something stronger around me.
Love.
The kind that came from home.
Femi still called occasionally to check up on me, and after I told him I had come home, he insisted on visiting. After much pressure, I gave him my address, and he promised to stop by that day.
I was in the kitchen when my phone rang. It was Femi. I had already started wondering if he had changed his mind. It was late afternoon already.
I picked up.
“I’m at your gate.”
I stepped outside, expecting to see an Uber.
Instead, I found Femi behind the steering wheel of a sleek black Mercedes.
I paused for a second.
“You drove here?”
He grinned. “What did you expect?”
“I didn’t expect you to know your way here.”
“You sent me the address.”
“Hmm… or did you rely on GPS?”
He laughed.
“Please, I know Lagos.”
I smiled despite myself.
For the first time, I noticed him differently.
Not the patient I had worried about.
Not the mysterious, good-looking boy from Lokoja.
Just… Femi.
Confident. Relaxed. Very Lagos.
I knew he was from a wealthy home, but I didn’t really know how wealthy. Looking at his car gave me a hint. I admired it without making it too obvious.
Before he could figure me out with those discerning eyes of his, I said quickly,
“Come in.”
As we entered the compound, his eyes moved around curiously. The dogs in the cage started barking.
“Am I safe?” he asked.
I laughed. “We shall see.”
We stepped into the living room.
My mother looked up from the television. Femi bowed slightly.
“Good evening, ma.”
“Good evening, young man. How are you?”
“I’m fine, ma.”
“Mommy, meet Femi.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
“The Femi you told me about?”
I nearly choked.
Femi glanced at me.
I shot my mother a warning look.
“Ohhh,” she said, smiling knowingly. “Have your seat, my dear.”
This woman would not kill me.
Femi sat on the sofa opposite her.
“Where are you from, Femi?”
“I was born and brought up in Lagos, ma, but my parents are from Ondo State.”
“Ahn ahn, ara ile ni e. We are from Ondo State too.”
She glanced at me before turning back to him.
“Where in Ondo State?”
“Owo.”
“Oh, that’s nice. We are from Akoko. Do you know Akoko?”
He smiled. “No, ma. We don’t really travel home like that.”
“How are your parents?”
“They are fine, ma.”
“And your health?”
“Fine, ma.”
I needed to check on the food in the kitchen, but I was worried about leaving Femi alone with my mother. I didn’t trust that woman. She could give me away in marriage before I got back.
I went to the kitchen briefly and returned to the living room. My mother was still talking to Femi.
I watched him carefully, trying to see if he was uncomfortable, but he seemed completely relaxed.
This was beginning to feel like a boyfriend-meets-the-parents situation.
After a few more questions, she finally stood up.
“Let me leave both of you. Enjoy yourselves.”
As she disappeared into her room, I exhaled loudly.
Femi burst into laughter.
“Your mother is interesting.”
“You have no idea.”
He looked around the living room until his eyes settled on the large family portrait behind the TV.
“Where are your siblings?”
“They’re all in school.”
“And your dad?”
“He travelled for work.”
“Aww, so it’s just you and your mom?”
I nodded and went back to the kitchen to finish up.
I offered him food, but he politely declined. We spent the next hour talking.
I told him how boring Lokoja had become and about the humiliation at the office, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about Taiwo or the way I had cried on the phone with my mother.
Not when I was beginning to suspect that I liked him more than I should.
“So you left your PPA and travelled home just because you were bored? This time, the director will flog you.”
“Abeg, that man should leave me alone. The worst he can do is report me to the LGI, and I don’t even care. You see this two-week break, I’m going to enjoy it.”
He laughed and shook his head.
A few minutes later, he looked at me.
“Are you busy?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”
“Should we go out?”
“Go out where?”
“Anywhere. Let’s just leave the house.”
That actually sounded nice. Apart from church, I hadn’t gone anywhere since I came home.
So I agreed.
I changed my outfit, told my mother I was going out for a bit, and followed him outside.
At the gate, he walked ahead and opened the passenger door for me.
I paused for a second.
“Uhm.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said, smiling as I got in.
The drive was pleasant. I was surprised by how good he was behind the wheel.
Lagos traffic welcomed me like an old enemy.
Danfo buses, impatient keke riders, conductors shouting, horns from every direction.
And strangely enough, I had missed it.
“Why are you smiling?” Femi asked.
“I think I missed Lagos traffic.”
He stared at me. “You need help.”
I laughed.
He drove into a park in Ikeja. When he mentioned going out, I had expected a restaurant.
But I liked the park.
The evening breeze was cool, children were running around, swings creaked gently nearby, and couples sat on benches talking as the sun dipped lower.
For once, I allowed myself to enjoy the moment instead of thinking about everything weighing me down.
As we strolled around the park, we talked about Lagos, NYSC, and life after service.
At some point, I told him about another Femi I had met during orientation camp.
“So you were one of those people that did camp relationship?” he asked, laughing.
“Please, no.” I shook my head, smiling.
“But you dated.”
“Not like date-date.”
He laughed again.
“So the guy’s name was Femi?”
“Yes.”
“And he broke your heart?”
I punched him lightly.
“Broke whose heart?”
He gasped dramatically.
“No wonder you don’t like me.”
I turned to him. “When did I say I don’t like you?”
He stopped walking.
Then he looked at me with an expression that was suddenly less playful.
More serious.
More searching.
“So you like me?” he asked softly.
My heartbeat stumbled.
His eyes stayed on mine, waiting.
For a moment, I wanted to answer.
Instead, I looked away.
“I don’t know.”
He held the silence for a second, then smiled.
“Fair enough.”
But something about the way he smiled told me he had heard more than my words.
Afterwards, we bought ice cream and snacks and sat on a bench watching people.
I tried to convince him to go on the rides with me, but he refused, saying it was childish.
He still walked with me to the ticket stand, bought me a wristband, and helped fasten it around my wrist before taking my pictures. He patiently waited while I went on every ride I wanted.
When we were about to leave, he excused himself and walked towards a nearby shop.
He returned carrying a small bag.
“What’s that?”
“It’s for your mom.”
I blinked.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I forgot to bring something when I came. It felt wrong meeting your mother empty-handed.”
That was thoughtful.
“She’ll appreciate it,” I said quietly.
He drove me home afterwards.
This time, he didn’t come inside.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The quiet inside the car felt heavier than it should have.
“Thank you for today,” he said, his voice so calm I almost mistook it for a whisper.
“Thank you too,” I replied just as softly.
Wait, Dewa, what are you doing? Don’t get yourself entangled.
We stared at each other for a moment, and I was the first to look away.
“Okay, goodnight,” I said.
“Goodnight.”
As soon as I got down, I walked straight into the compound without looking back.
He waited until I entered the gate before driving away.
I stepped into the living room and froze.
My mother was sitting there, waiting.
The smile on her face was suspicious.
Very suspicious.
“Oya,” she said, patting the seat beside her. “Come and gist me.”
I rolled my eyes, dropped my bag, and carefully placed the small bag Femi brought for my mother beside me before sitting down.
“I thought you would be sleeping by now.”
“Sleeping ke? By past eight? Am I a chicken?”
I burst out laughing.
I handed her the small bag. “Femi said I should give this to you.”
Her eyebrows rose immediately.
“For me?”
I nodded.
She collected it, smiling like someone who had just received bridal introduction gifts.
“Hmmm.”
“Mommy, don’t start.”
“Omo daadaa l’omo yen o.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“Ah ah, he seems like a well-brought-up boy. Charity begins at home.”
I rolled my eyes and leaned back on the sofa.
She looked at me for a long moment before speaking again, this time more softly.
“You seem happier.”
I didn’t even realize I was smiling until she said it.
The teasing disappeared from her face.
And I realized she was right.
For the first time since everything had fallen apart in Lokoja, I actually felt lighter.
Maybe home was not just a place.
Maybe it was the people who held your pieces together when you were broken.
End of Episode 14
To be continued…
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Previous:⬅️ Episode 13: Things Fall Apart
Next: ➡️Episode 15: The Silence Between Us
Patiently waiting for Episode 14.
ReplyDeleteI think you mean Episode 15😊 It's coming soon. Thank you so much for reading.
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