Right Time, Right Place

I always watched her walk – or run, whichever the case may
be – to class. I was sure; this was the girl of my dreams. If
only I could gather my boldness to go talk to her. But I was
waiting for the right time. Next semester, she was pregnant.
A part of my world crashed!

The six months strike had its positive effects on me.
Basically, the effect was on my Facebook profile. I received
various friend requests, sent several others and so forth.
When I saw her name – not the first her this time though, a
new her – I loved it immediately. I checked our mutual
friends, about sixteen in common. Request sent, I awaited her
acceptance.

Two days passed, I logged in to see several notifications and
few messages. I get that quite a lot these days. I scrolled
through the notifications, ignoring the irrelevant ones and
commenting on the important ones. And then, there it was,
clearly written in Facebook letters: “ So and so accepted
your Facebook request”.

I clicked on her wall, wanting to welcome her to my world in
the usual fashion of mine. Her profile picture caught my eye
and instead, I clicked that. The smile that met my eye was
stupefying. My jaws dropped. I shook it off; most of these
pictures were disguises. My network vanished, you know
na, MTN and their usual wahala. And so, I press the red
button, to continue on a more MTN friendly day.

Next morning, I opened Facebook – call me an addict, a strict
adherent, warefa, Ah don kier! – and answer to the messages
left off yesterday and to reply to the wonderful comments on
my infantile status updates and so forth. I click on one of the
“so and so, so and so and three others commented on your
status” notifications and the thing loads a poem I had posted
the previous day on a political brouhaha that was ravaging
social media and there, among the comments, her name,
masterfully done, standing above a comment that read thus:
“ Wow! Such wonderful talent. Kudos Nonso”. I mean,
this comment came from her, typed by her own very tender
fingers; that same beauty that accepted my friend request
yesterday. Haaaa!

I must confess here now, that my head swirled in ecstasy.
Firstly, I find it difficult to impress ladies, not to mention
beautiful ladies. I felt like a Nobel Laureate. Maybe Wole
Soyinka would understand what I mean. I wanted to run to
the kitchen, scream at the top of my voice at my mother that a
beautiful girl found my writing beautiful too. I was so happy,
plus, I was gradually falling in love with her.

We soon started chatting and I found out from her that she
was in my department in school. Whoop! I was looking
forward to resumption. I didn’t want to tell her that I had a
thing for her on social network, no. I was going to make it
formal, at the right time. So, I counted the days, watched the
news, listened to the news, read the news and even dreamt
the news; all in anticipation of the call off of the strike.

Six months smoked away and ASUU finally saw reason
right after Prof. Iyayi paid the debt with his blood (Oh!
CWW). We soon resumed and I flew to school before
anybody could say “Ah-Suu”. I slept in a room designed for
two, allocated to eight and occupied by twelve alone for four
nights, counting the seconds to dawn in my sleep, jerking up
every time a hungry rat scurried across the floor in chase of a
cockroach. Two weeks, I had not seen her. I visited every of
her class in search of this girl and I could not find her in any.

I was devastated. So na so my love wan take perish? Chai! I
soon gave up. I have that gift of giving up easily in such
pursuits you know. Then, it happened. One day, as I stood
by A1 with a friend, debating the essence of the ASUU
strike, she walked past. Now, she might not have noticed me,
I cannot tell. But I sure remembered her face. How can I not?
That beauty was even more accentuated in real life. She had a
smallish frame, a young innocent face and the sexiest smile
of all time. I wanted to call her name, but something within
me was holding me back, endearing me to wait till the right
time.

The first day we spoke, my palms were both sweaty, my
voice was cracked and I stuttered a lot, like I was dumb.
Well, that was then. We soon became closer and I still am yet
to tell her of that crush, that feeling of love I have for her. I’m
scared of losing her; of losing that soft smile. If only she
could tear through the terraces of my heart and see the
evidences, glaring enough, then things would be easier. For
now, I have to wait for the right time.