Chapter 6: Old Habits, Lagos Bus Gist

Half hour later, show break for advert. Everybody enter car, dey go Palm Hill College.

As I dey carry my tripod, dey rush waka, I dey notice say some guests dey snap selfie, dey post for IG story, dey do like say life sweet well.

Before I enter, Temi show.

Na so wahala people dey always find you when you no ready. I just dey adjust my bag, dey mind my business.

"Ijeoma."

He dey look me like person wey dey guilty.

The voice soft, like say e dey beg for forgiveness. I dey wonder wetin e wan talk.

Me, I no even send am. "Wetin you want? I dey busy."

No time for old gist. I dey try focus, dey ready for next shoot.

He pause two seconds, then look me, eyes dey sorry. "You dey alright this past year...?"

The question hang for air. E dey expect answer, but I no give am.

"Why, you dey fear say I dey do well pass you and your babe?"

I talk am with small pepper. No time for fake concern. I dey show say I sabi the game.

"Why you go think like that?"

He rush explain, eyes dey beg. "That time na my fault, but I no fit bear that kind hopeless life again. I hope you understand. Now I get small connect—if you wan change work, I fit help you. At least you no go suffer like this."

His voice soft, e dey reason say I go melt. But my chest dey stone.

I just quiet.

The silence thick. You fit hear pin drop. My heart dey heavy, but my face dey stone.

So na regret dey worry am? He follow Shamsiya for money, now e don see say she no easy, e dey remember me?

Men go always find reason return when new woman wahala too much. I dey see through am.

I raise head, look that mole for him nose. Before, I dey see am as fine guy. I craze for am that time.

I dey remember how I go dey check him IG every night, dey pray make e call me. Now, na only shame remain.

Now... the more I look, the more e dey vex me.

I fit slap am for dream. My eye dey see clearer now.

"No need. Wetin rotten person fit offer? Even if you get good mind, e no concern me."

I talk am calm, but the thing enter bone. I no dey drag for man matter again.

He no fit talk, still dey try talk, when car stop near us.

The sound loud. Driver dey shout for outside, say make people rush.

Shamsiya open door, her voice like person dey call dog: "Temi, my leg dey pain me. Come massage am."

She dey do like queen, dey command Temi. I just dey watch, dey laugh inside.

Temi pause, then rush go. "I dey come, babe."

The guy no get shame. Money and fame na real power for this Lagos.

Shamsiya look me one kind. "Wetin you dey talk with her?"

She dey scan my face, like say she dey check for lie.

"Nothing. I just tell am make she behave."

I reply with straight face. I dey wonder who go help who for this life.

"Sure? I think say she dey try come back beg you. I still remember how she dey cry, dey beg you no leave am. Tsk, like dog."

She twist mouth, eyes dey sharp. The words cut, but I just dey smile. Na she get mouth today.

Temi stop small, then smile. "Lie. Even if she beg, I no go gree. She no fit reach even your hair."

Na so e be when man dey chase new shine. He go forget old love, dey hype new one.

"Na so e suppose be." Shamsiya look proud. "You think she hate me now? I dey top show, her own—nothing. She no fit even keep her man."

She talk am with chest. For Naija, women dey fight for space, dey use mouth do battle. I just dey look.

...

I no even hear them again. I just dey pack my things.

E get one kind ringing for my ear. I dey focus on work, dey pray make day quick finish.

Then message enter.

Phone vibrate, small light blink. I dey check, dey hope say na work call.

"Ijeoma, make we go."

Na message from team lead. I pick up my bag, dey hustle my load, no time for gist.

I reply, carry equipment, enter bus.

As I dey enter, I dey peep who dey inside. I dey try avoid wahala seat.

Na then I notice say Yanshu Musa dey this same bus, dey press phone.

He dey quiet, cap still low, but you fit feel him presence. The whole bus dey calm because of am.

Why him dey this bus?

E no make sense, but I no fit ask. Na production arrange am, maybe for logistics. But my mind dey turn.

My head scatter, but I no fit ask. I just bone face, go sit for back.

I dey dodge camera, dey hide. Make nobody see my own face join Musa own.

Suddenly, my phone ring.

Na so ringtone burst for bus, everybody turn. For Naija, music dey always unite people, but this one na hot gist.

Na Yanshu Musa hit song, "The Sound of Rain Falling."

Everybody for bus begin nod head. Some dey hum, some dey smile. The chorus dey sweet, e fit make person reason old love.

“This rain end here, emotion dey hang. Wetin you leave behind, na long, wet ground..."

Lyrics dey touch soul. My chest dey tight. I dey fight tears.

Everybody for bus turn look me.

Some dey do like say dem no see, but e clear for their face—dem dey notice.

I rush off am.

I dey sweat, dey pray make ground open swallow me. For this kind bus, everybody dey gossip—news dey fly faster than danfo for third mainland.

But e don late.

The gist don already start to fly. Some dey peep my phone, dey try catch glimpse of screen.

Yanshu Musa look up, our eyes jam for mirror.

The look wey him give me—na deep something. Like person wey dey search inside your chest.

"Sorry." I smile like mumu. "I see say this song dey trend yesterday, I like am, so I use am as ringtone."

I dey fidget, dey play with camera bag, dey hope say e go end here.

He quiet small. "But na concert version from this year."

The thing shock me. I no even notice na new version. My heart dey pound.

True o... I forget. That version rough, background noise full everywhere.

For backstage, sound dey enter. If you no be fan, you no go know.

"Aunty Ijeoma, you come my concert?" he ask.

His voice calm, but the question heavy. Everybody dey peep me, dey reason say maybe na secret fan.

Memory just flood me.

My body dey tremble. I dey remember the lights, the crowd, the way he sing. Tears almost fall.

But how I go talk?

Na my biggest secret. Even after all these years, I dey dodge his gist, but I still go his seven-year anniversary concert.

Na last row I sit, dey wipe tears with my scarf, dey hide for crowd. I no wan make anybody see me dey cry for old love.

I sit for last row, dey cry for his success.

People dey wonder why I dey emotional. But na only me and God sabi wetin I dey feel.

"No," I lie. "Maybe na person upload am? I no sure."

I dey play ignorant. My face stiff. I dey pray make e believe.

"Na so."

He talk am, but I fit see say him mind no still rest. His eyes dey sharp, dey search my face for sign.

But he no remove eye. He just dey look me for mirror, like person dey reason deep.

The stare no dey ordinary. My heart dey do gbim gbim.

After small time—

The bus dey shake, small silence. Only phone beep dey fill air.

"Aunty Ijeoma, you no dey hot?"

The question shock me. I dey wonder if na joke or concern.

"Huh?"

I answer, dey fidget with mask. My hand dey sweat, I dey pray make wahala pass.

"This your mask—no dey hot you?" His voice calm, like normal concern.

He dey look my forehead, dey check my body language. I dey smile, dey try form say nothing dey happen.

I wipe sweat for my forehead. "No hot. I... I catch cold. I no wan spread am give everybody."

I talk am with straight face. For Naija, people dey always fear cold, no wan make dem catch am.

"...Na so."

Him answer short, but I fit see say e dey reason something. His finger still dey shake.

My phone dey hot for my hand. WhatsApp dey pop up anyhow.

Na group chat, old school group dey drop meme, dey shout say dem see me for TV. I dey ignore.

He glance, reply, but him finger dey shake.

His hand dey tremble. I dey wonder if na the cold, or na something else dey shake am.

I quick change ringtone, peep front. He dey reply message, so I fit relax small.

I dey use this small time catch breath. My body dey hot and cold at once.

Thank God, I nearly enter wahala.

I dey thank my star, dey pray make day end fast.