Living With My Grandma
Episode 2
He carried me to the bed. We laid across it diagonally and he quickly began to draw the towel apart with care—to remove it as if it was a bandage. He eventually did, revealing my flesh, still smelling a little of soap. His hands floated onto me. [An Excerpt]
***
“I thought you said your uncle won’t have any reason to enter your room,” he whispered, frightened.
“Ssshhhh,” I admonished him.
The knock came the second time. “Go inside naa,” I gestured at him without speaking aloud.
He stood and tiptoed to the toilet with his clothes in his hands. “Yes. I’m coming. I’m in the toilet.” I lied. I need to take some time to arrange the room before opening the door. I then reached for my white towel and undressed myself while I tied it like I just finished bathing. I glanced at the entire room to be sure nothing would implicate me. There was nothing suspicious when I searched through the bed, but truth is, my heart was p******g faster than I could ever imagine. I haven’t been in such a mess all my life.
I finally reached the door, inserted the key and it got unlocked in seconds. “I was taking my bath,” I said even before I could look to see who was standing behind the door. Guess who? I’m sure you guessed it was my uncle right? No! Your guess is wrong. It wasn’t my uncle. It was never his friend, too. My grandma? Yes! She was unexpectedly back from the August meeting. I heaved a big sigh of relief realizing it was grandma but at the same time I was so unhappy she was back so early.
“Welcome mama. You came back so early today. What happened?”
“Your grandma is tired and needs some rest. I’ll continue tomorrow,” she responded.
“Mama, uncle Clinton is back. Have you seen him?”
“Do you think I’m just coming back now? I have been here before the light went off.” She replied in Igbo.
Even though grandma could hear and speak English, she was prone to speaking Igbo. I’d ask her in English but she’d rather reply in Igbo which she had long persuaded me to always speak. I wasn’t eloquent or perhaps fluent when it comes to speaking, Igbo but I heard and understood everything she said—except for some deeper ones that I asked for an explanation.
So, it happened that grandma had been in the living room with my uncle and his friend while Meska and I were rolling out ourselves in my room until the light went off and she decided to find out what I had been doing inside my room since she returned. Grandma then asked me to change into my clothes so we could prepare dinner. It was probably around 4:30 or so. We normally prepare dinner on time—because of grandma’s health challenge. The family doctor advised that she eats at least before 7 pm before going to bed.
“Ok, Grandma. I’ll join you soon.” I closed the door while she headed towards her room.
“Jeez! Grandma is also back. I’m doomed. How do I come out of this whole mess? I was worried.
“Meska,” I called inaudibly. He popped his head out through the door. “Come,” I signaled with my left hand. He stepped out. He was back on his vintage shirt and trouser, but both were looking rough.
“Who was that?” Meska asked inaudibly.
“Guy, that was my grandma.”
“Jeez. So quick?”
“See, I don’t just understand what’s happening today. How are you going to leave here?”
“And I have Band practice at church this evening.” Meska looked at his timepiece.
“Zee.” My uncle called from the Sitting room
“Yes, uncle. I’m coming. I hurriedly pulled off the white towel and hastily wore my clothes back. Meska reluctantly walked back to the toilet with a frown look.
At that point, my guy was already tired and frustrated. It was written on his face. One thing I knew for sure was, that Meska regretted ever coming. Though he didn’t say much, I could read him like a book. He sighed slowly when he entered the toilet. I felt it, but there was absolutely nothing I could do. Neither my grandma nor my uncle would take it lightly with me if they get to see Meska in my room. I couldn’t even imagine how disappointed they would feel. Like, I had the nerves to bring a man into the house? Not like they saw me outside standing with him. That thought alone scared the shit out of me. Now, imagine if my father hears such news, he would not spare either of us. He would come after Meska, and the outcome wouldn’t be so nice.
These and many more conflicted in my head as I unlocked the door to answer my uncle. Finally, they were set to hang out. My uncle was wearing different cloth.
“Help me plug this power bank if they restore the light.” He handed me his 20Amh power bank and its charger. “Alright, sir.”
I went straight to grandma’s room to find out what we’d cook for dinner. “Mama, we’ll be back,” Clinton announced from the Sitting room. “Ngwanu, drive safe oo,” grandma replied in Igbo. She was undressing her uniform when I walked into her room.
“Mama, what are we cooking tonight?” I asked.
“Erm, what did we cook last night?” came her response. Grandma always answered questions with another question. She was prone to it and I detested that.
“Rice and beans Jollof,” I answered.
“Okay. Check if there’s still egusi in the cupboard. Let’s prepare the soup.” She said to my discomfort. I was sad, not because I hated egusi soup but because grandma was about to give me a task I detested. Your guess is wrong, it’s not what you think. I’m talking about washing bitter leaves. Gosh! I hated bringing myself down to do that washing of a thing. Sometimes I pondered who invented the use of bitter leaves in making soup? And sadly, that was grandma’s favorite vegetable whenever we made soup. We barely use pumpkin leaves to cook soup. She said bitter leaf is medicinal and was very suitable for her health.
I left to the kitchen and confirmed there was still egusi left in the cupboard; about two cups or so. I went to the backyard and soon returned with a small basin filled with bitter leaves. And that was how I got hooked in the kitchen while my Meska was probably in my room thinking about his life. The only way he would leave without being caught was if grandma leaves her room. Both rooms were in a way that if anyone leaves through my room, whoever was in grandma’s room would surely see the person or perhaps the person’s footsteps. I didn’t want to take any careless chance too.
Grandma later joined me in the kitchen and that was when I asked while Clinton came back unannounced. “One of his friends lost his father. They came for the burial at Nnewi.” Grandma announced. Fast forward to when grandma and I were done cooking, I looked through the window, it was twilight already. The sun had gone down completely. Twinkle stars dotted the sky. I became more worried. It seemed God want to expose me today; I had mulled over it while washing the dishes. I served grandma her portion of the food in her room after washing the dishes—and just when I was about to go inside my room, my uncle and his friend walked in through the sitting room. I was stunned. There was no single sound from the gate that showed they were back.
“Welcome uncle,” I said.
“Thank you.” He reached for the sofa and collapsed tiredly. His countenance revealed he was unhappy.
Long story short, his car broke down on their way home and he had to park it somewhere he barely knew. Grandma assured him that nothing was going to happen to it. My uncle was pained particularly because they planned to use the car the next day for the burial ceremony of his colleague’s father. The only option he had was if he could get a mechanic that would put it in order before 10 am the following day. I later served my uncle and his friend food before retiring to my room with the remainder.
My guy was already tired and seemed to have given up on going home. “Can you pass the night here and probably leave as soon as the crows cry in the morning?” I let out. He was dumbstruck by my question. “Hmmm. Ziggy that’s even riskier,” he said. “Then, what do we do? My uncle and his friend are back.” I announced. Meska didn’t say anything. He was more concerned about the food I brought for him. He quickly washed his hands and commenced molding the semo. I stared absent-mindedly. It was all looking like one of those affection movies I watched. There I was, playing the role of a brave protagonist. I had no appetite for food. The noodles we ate earlier in the day still filled my belly.
Meska’s phone rattled. He checked and found the caller to be his mother. He didn’t pick. it vibrated the second time, the same reaction from Meska. I didn’t even know what to tell him. We just stared at each other without uttering a word.
“Don’t worry I can handle it,” he eventually broke the short silence. And that gave me some sort of relief.
“How? What do you mean you can handle it?” I quizzed.
“I know exactly what to tell my mom. I’ll call her back soon,” he retorted.
I looked at the plate, the semo was almost finished. I took one of the meat and left the rest for him. When he was done eating, he washed his hands and went inside the toilet. I overheard him cooking up lies and I knew he was talking to his mother.
Meska dashed out of the toilet smiling. I knew he had finally established a lie that would keep him in my room till the next day. His smile was contagious, I smiled back involuntarily. “Bad boy,” I mumbled. “Bad girl.” Meska paid back. I went to the door and locked it. My uncle and his friend had gone upstairs and grandma was in her room. Though I knew she wasn’t asleep already. Unlike myself, it usually took grandma about thirty minutes or more before dozing off whenever she lay on her bed.
“Meska, I need to shower now,” I reached for my towel.
“Me too,” he said inaudibly. We both looked at each other and smiled. I walked into the toilet which also served as a bathroom. Meska joined me. I was going to tell him, no, but the will to reject him was not enough. I knew what he wanted and I wanted to try it out, too. I winked at him.
The water was running. The bathroom was dark, so we let the door open. The light from the rechargeable lamp in my room flickered lightly into the bathroom. Meska turned me around admiringly. He was very complaisant with all his clothes off. I moved readily to his touch. He smiled. I felt his beards. A bit of dark hair on his chest too. He crossed his hand and grabbed my slippery a*s. The shower was dripping in our bodies. He soon began to soap my b***s which glistened like seals beneath the water. He scrubbed my back.
“What did you tell your mother?” I whispered into his left ear but it seemed he didn’t hear that. I didn’t ask further. Meska was grunting and satisfying. I wrapped my arms around his warm hairy body. It was a night I will never forget.
When we eventually had our baths, he wrapped me with my white towel, soft as a robe. He carried me to the bed. We laid across it diagonally and he quickly began to draw the towel apart with care—to remove it as if it was a bandage. He eventually did, revealing my flesh, still smelling a little of soap. His hands floated into me.
“I don’t want either of us to forget this night,” he said. I answered by plastering my mouth on his— and kissed him in a way he never thought was possible. I sucked his tongue and he copied me too. I brushed my b***s across his face. He wanted to take one of my b***s into his mouth. Meska was a b***s freak. He was frantic; my b***s were killing him. My watermelons, like he had described them and smiled sheepishly. He was gentle with the way he fumbled them. Knowing what he was doing, I felt my n****e rise and that send some sweet sensation into my nerves.
I slid further down, introducing myself to the rest of him. His neck, his n*****s. His chocolate brown belly. I tasted him, salty in my mouth. He then sat up and drew me back to him. I felt his belly tighten under me, hard as a board. I felt my wetness slipping on his skin, he took my n****e in his mouth and cradled my other b****t in his calloused palm.
When my guy finally reached the orgasm, he slump tiredly on the bed and slept off without a word.
When Meska slept off, I couldn’t sleep. So many thoughts ran through my head, saying this and that. At some point, I felt remorseful. Yes, I did feel bad for myself. It wasn’t what I planned. I just wanted him to come have fun with me and go back before Grandma’s arrival. Sleeping over was never part of the plans, but life happens. I returned to the bathroom and had a cool shower without soap. While water dripped on my body, I reminisced over my sensual romance with Meska minutes ago. It seemed to occupy my head—and that was what filled my mind. We never did that before. It had always been casual s*x and nothing more.
I came out of the bathroom. My eyes fixed on Meska. He was fast asleep. He was just on his boxers. I felt differently. He had never slept over in our house before. It was his first time and there he lay tiredly. He still looked cute even while he was asleep. I changed into my pajamas and lowered the rechargeable lamp before joining him on the bed.
I lay on my back, my eyes staring absent-mindedly at the faded Jesus Christ poster on the wall. So, how will he leave here tomorrow? Came a thought that rushed through my head. I picked up my phone and quickly set an alarm. I reached for the second pillow and made myself comfortable; my left hand rested on his back. I slept off not long after I shut my eyes.
4:30 am I was woken by the beep from my phone. The last time I set an alarm was while I was preparing for WAEC, and that was many months ago. I searched for my phone—and tiredly, I pressed the power button. It stopped at once. My eyes were still heavy and I felt some pains below my waist. I turned to see if Meska was awake but he was still asleep. He had been rolling from one end of the bed to another.
I dropped the phone and went back to sleep but I couldn’t seem to sleep again. My eyes were shut but I was awake. 4:40, 4:50, the alarm came aloud again. This time, I reached for the phone, unlocked it, and finally turned off the alarm.
Some minutes after 5:00 am, I overheard noise from grandma’s room. She was preparing for morning mass. She never missed it for anything—unless she was ill. So, I tapped Meska gently but he didn’t respond. I did the second time, the same result. I did it aggressively the third time, and his eyes opened. “Wake up,” I whispered. He yawned and stretched his arms tiredly. I sat on the bed in my pajamas and watched him act sluggishly. When he finally looked at my face, he smiled. He had this contagious smile that always gets me smiling back for no just cause. He still had wrinkles on his face and dull eyes from sleep.
“Get up and wear your clothes,” I signaled.
“What’s time now?” he asked inaudibly.
“5:16,” I responded.
“Wow.” He stuttered. Meska stood quietly as I watched him wear his vintage shirt and trouser.
“Once grandma leaves for church, you leave immediately,” I whispered into his right ear.
“Okay.” He nodded his head. He then picked up his phone and searched through his gallery. He scrolled through some pictures of his artworks.
At intervals, I went to the door to see if there was still light from grandma’s room. I needed to know exactly when she leaves the house. “How about your uncle and his friend?” Meska asked when I rejoined him in the bed. “They are upstairs and not likely to come out until….”
I overheard the whining of the door from grandma’s room. So, I paused. We both looked at each other at once. Silent stood between us for some seconds. “koi koi koi..” grandma’s footsteps a she made way to the entrance door from her room. Quietly, I tiptoed to the door and peeped through the doorknob. She was already out of sight.
I returned and quietly opened the window, she was already at the gate dressed in a blue top and blouse. There was a red rechargeable lamp in his right hand, the other hand held a small empty bucket. It was their Zone’s turn to wash and mob the Church. I heaved a big sigh of relief when she closed the gate.
It was 5:32 am and she would surely get to church before 6:00 am which was the time for mass. I turned to Meska.
“Guy, get up.”
“She don go?”
“Yes. But wait let me be sure my uncle nor his friend slept in the sitting room.” I quickly opened the door while he waited back in my room.
Long story short, Meska finally left our house that morning without being caught. I was so excited while I lay back on the bed. I had long pondered how my guy would eventually leave our house. That was one of the biggest risks I ever took because of Meska and I promised myself such would never happen again.
***
The August meeting was finally over. My uncle and his friend had also gone back to the city after a successful burial of his friend’s father. The house was once again left with grandma and I. When Meska was about to resume a new session, he reached out to me for support. It was no new thing that I usually give out foodstuffs to him each time he was resuming school.
I did as usual and smuggled out some of these things to him. He was grateful that he kept thanking me over the phone. He promised he would never have any reason to break my heart which he knew I dreaded so much. Yes, Meska knew I was so skeptical about him—and mostly whenever he was about returning to campus.
I had always felt there were girls he probably flirt with on campus, and each time I talked about it, he always frowned at it. He said it has always been three people; me, myself, and nobody else. I laughed at his silly humor. And that was one of the things he was good at. I liked his sense of humor. You can never be with him and not have any reason to be happy. I was really scared of losing him to campus girls.
Aside from the normal foodstuff I gave to him, I equally gave him part of my pocket money for upkeep. I did everything possible to make sure he didn’t lack in school. As of then, I wasn’t really using my money for anything serious. I could keep my hair unkempt for months, shoes, clothes and other basic kinds of stuff were provided by my uncles and my parents. I stayed indoors for hours. So, I wasn’t spending my money on anything.
Do you think Meska was using me? No! I doubted if he was. I remember he gifted me a very lovely portrait, a bracelet and a nice wristwatch on my birthday. I adored the wristwatch that I stopped using the rest in my possession. It was always on my wrist whenever I was outside.
Days later, Meska returned to Unizik for a new session. It was grandma and I in the boring house again, and I was gradually getting tired of staying idle at home. I wasn’t an introvert. I loved going out and meeting new people but I had no single place to visit. My movement then was triangular; I was either at the home, market, or Church. I missed having Meska around. He surely knew how to take me around with his father’s motorcycle.
In Meska’s absence, I became addicted to my phone. It became my friend and companion. Then I’d invariably disturb Meska with a video call. Yes, I knew I was disturbing him because I did that regularly. And most times when I called, he would be busy with his drawing and artwork. He once told me his course required so much attention and I couldn’t agree less. But that still didn’t stop me from calling him. I always sent him pictures of myself even when he didn’t ask for them.
One fateful Saturday morning, Meska had time to chat with me. We had a very long conversation on WhatsApp. We talked about the night he spent in my room and the naughty things we did together. Amidst our discussion, Meska asked me for the unexpected. You wouldn’t believe what my guy asked for.
To be continued.
