Routine love 29

Several more posts about us come in and even the gossip news outlets are carrying it everywhere. Different variations of Love gone sour between Tom Stiles and an unfamiliar lady that is simply known as Tife. It is well. What I need right now is to make peace with the people I really love. The people that really matter to me. Like Akintomide; Like Anu; Like Akinfenwa. Sorry. Like my dad; like Anu; Like Akinfenwa.This is the second day here and I’m checking out today. I have made up my mind. We are resuming next week. So, I guess I will just resume earlier. I have few luggage. This should be pretty easy. I’m walking out of the hotel after a very stressful check out when I see someone taking pictures of me. If I was a confrontational person, I would walk right up to him, snatch his phone and smash it but I’m not even though I so want to be right now. Instead, I act like I didn’t see him and walk out. 

I’m back to my house in less than six hours and even though I’m dog tired, I clear my room thoroughly. I try Anu’s number then Tito’s own but none of them pick. I don’t know when I start crying. This is so painful. All my life I guarded myself religiously. Just once. Just once! And I’m going through this much pain. I have never felt this deserted in all my life. Moments like this make me wish I was a friendlier person. That I have more people around me. I feel so abandoned. I don’t even know if Akintomide is still around. He is supposed to be leaving today. I guess a part of me still wishes this is a nightmare or maybe he will just call me. Ever since I reconnected with him, he has brought me nothing but pain and sadness and doubts and intense bouts of happiness. This love thing is a crazy thing. It hurts me so much but I have to let go. I will just be calling him rotten banana. Yes. That’s what he is. My phone starts vibrating above my head and I feel for it, my heart beating thunderously, wishing it is Akintomide calling to apologize. It’s an unknown number. I hesitate but I pick anyways.

“Hello.”

“Feyi.”

“Tito?”

“Yes. Where are you?”

“My hostel.”

“Okay. I’m coming.” She says. Her voice is louder than a whisper but there is a cautiousness about it.

“Ok cool.” I say but she has already disconnected. Thirty minutes later, she is knocking on my door. Her face has really been scarce and I miss her. I hug her at the door. “How have you been?”

“I’m fine. You and the baby?” She asks.

My eyes widen a bit at that. Anu must have told her. “We are doing well.” I say and smile. She smiles back at me and walk sully into the room.

“I miss this place .” She says, finding a spot on my bed and stretching luxuriously.

I’m encouraged by her disposition. Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect after what I supposedly did that made Anu so angry at me that Tito has to be tiptoeing around her to reach me. “Do you want anything?”I ask, unsure but she only looks at me like I have grown ten horns.

“Only the hottest gist in town. My own best friend is dating Tom Stiles. Oshey baddest!”

I can’t help but grin at her enthusiasm. If only things were that simple. She is grinning back at me and I realize she would be perfect for him. She has that mullato look that would fit perfectly into everything. Everything that is Tom Stiles. What did he ever see in me in the first place? I’m not even pretty.

“If you weren’t frowning ever so hard, I would think you were daydreaming. Anyways, I’m still waiting.”

“He slapped me.”

“What?!” She says, sitting up so suddenly, I fear she may faint. “He did what?”

“He slapped me.” I choke on the words.

“Tom slapped you? What happened? Does he know you’re pregnant?”

“Yes.” I’m still standing by the door and I’m biting my lips hard to keep from crying out.

She stands up and walks to me, staring me straight in the eyes. “He knew you were pregnant and he still laid his hands on you?”

“Yes.”

“We have got to capitalize on this. I’m calling my stepmom. She will know what to do.”

“I don’t want to ‘capitalize’ on anything. I just want to be alright. Me and the baby. By the way, what happened to Anu?” Tito starts fidgeting and can’t look me in the face. “What happened to her?” I ask, getting a lot more worried. “Did she try to abort?” I ask.

“No.” She says, shrugging out of my hold. “She was in an accident. She said she was rushing over to see you because she was scared you were about to kill yourself? Were you? Were you about to kill yourself?” She looks so scared. I hug her close and the tears I have been trying hard to hold fall from my eyes onto her shoulder. I regret so many things in my life.

“I’m so sorry, Tito.” She holds me close but says nothing. “I’m so scared. I’m still in love with him.” I say and she pulls away. Then, she holds my shoulders.

“What are you saying? A guy that is not good enough to keep his violent hands off a woman let alone a pregnant one? He isn’t worth it!” She says as she shakes me with each word. There is nothing I haven’t told myself. All these things I know but not strong enough to act on it. “Just let me speak with my mom about this. Pleased. He will regret he ever laid his hands on you.”

“Where is Anu now? Is she better?”

“Yes. She just got stable this morning.”

“Thank God. Can I come see her?”

“I’m not sure.” She says, glancing away.

“It’s cool.”

“Don’t think of it. You know how she gets. She will get over it just as quickly.” She says and I smile. “I’m sleeping over tonight.” She says and I want to kiss her. God knows I need the company.  

Ronke calls me severally but I ignore it as I pus Akinomide and Akinfenwa back back back. Far out of my mind.

Akintomide’s POV

Back on the court. Things are going on smoothly. No looking back. MY ONLY REGRET NOW IS HITTING HER. I miss her but I know that I’m not looking back. It’s not as hurtful as before. If only the bloggers would stop writing ridiculous speculations. I’m not even bothered. I’m just worried about… I’m not even bothered. 

“Yo! Are you going or what?” We just finished a rigorous session of routine practice and I’m sure he can’t wait to get out of his skin.

I jump into the car and my friend speeds off.

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