Hollandia
"One of the illusions of life is that the present hour is not the critical, decisive hour. Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year. No man has learnt anything rightly, until he knows that every day is Doomsday."
~RalphWaldo Emerson.

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"You really should have become a teacher," Otokini said, pushing his chair back, and grabbing a file from his drawer.

Chinonye smiled a little, glad that her years of teaching had not gone unnoticed. "I used to be a teacher."

His head shot up so fast she let out a peal of laughter.

"Are you serious? Isn't it a crime to be pretty and be a teacher all at once?"

She averted her eyes from his. He was always so witty and full of compliments. "I'm afraid it is not."

"Wow, those poor student must have enjoyed your classes," he said. "What subject did you teach?"

"Economics for SS1 - SS3 students. They enjoyed my teaching dearly."

"Of course they did. Who wouldn't enjoy it?"

He picked up his phone and began fiddling with it. After a moment, he threw his head back and laughed. She watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed, the way his body vibrated. He was so at ease, so funny. His office smelt like mint and coffee. He was wearing a light blue t-shirt. Blue seemed to be his favorite color. The t-shirt was a bit snug on his body and she noticed the way his arms bulged as he stopped laughing and composed himself.

Stretching his hand, he gave her his phone to view what had cracked him up. It was the picture of a popular meme on Twitter. She too began to laugh, forgetting her rule of being proper. When she regained herself, he was looking at her like she'd grown a second head. She cleared her throat.

"Oga, Victor said you're supposed to come to Mile 1 today to sort the new materials." The young receptionist said, entering the office.

"Oh, that's true. I almost forgot about it." He turned to look at Chinonye. "Do you have anywhere you need to be?"

She pretended to think about it for a while. He did not need to know that she did little else apart from sew and design nowadays.

"No."

"Okay then. You mind coming with me to our branch at Mile 1?"

"Not at all."

"Goodness, I'll be back soon," he said, addressing the receptionist.

With that, Otokini arranged his things, got his car key and phone, and they all walked out of the office. Chinonye stood at the side as he locked the door, the cool air making her shiver a little.

What am I doing?

They headed outside - Chinonye and Otokini, silence casting a shadow on them. When they got to his car, she wasn't surprised that it was a sleek Honda car. What did he not have? That was a judgmental thought, but she felt ruffled at the fact that he was living it big.

He unlocked the car and they both entered. She was glad that he did not do any opening the car door stunt on her.

The car smelt like him - minty - and she took a deep breathe in, her mind calming down. It reminded her of the scented candles she was yet to reuse. She made a mental note that she would use one of the candles during the weekend.

The road to Mile 1 was a long stretch of coal tar road, some places ridden with pot holes and some still smooth, ahead of them. It was a well-trodden path, the road to a popular market.

They met the usual traffic on the road. It was 4 p.m., the time government workers closed from work, so there were numerous vehicles on the road. Vehicles stopped in impatience, passengers hissed and complained. But the road was not going to give another lane, so they had no other option but to wait out the traffic.

Boys, girls, women and men loitered at the various point where the traffic was concentrated, selling all kinds of foods and wares. Grapes neatly packaged in plastic containers; apples in transparent nylons; roasted groundnut; cashew nut in old wine bottles sat atop different sizes of heads. Some displayed chilled drinks and different brands of sausage roll commonly called gala. A dark man, lanky and acrobatic, carried a variety of colorful phone pouches and phone accessories from one vehicle window to the other, urging the occupants to buy with his theatrics.

A little of everything was sold at the specific traffic points, the level of hustling spirits Nigerians exhibited was commendable. Beggars were around too, filling up the middle pavement and beckoning on people that passed by to help them.

A man stopped by her window and was trying to force her to buy a cool lacasera drink.

"Madam, you no go buy? You look like say you wan drink oh," the man said, his weathered face baring a smile, and his black lips sending spittle flying towards her. She looked at his collection of drinks, wondering how he had come to the conclusion that she was thirsty.

"Don't worry, I don't want." She shook her head at him, remembering that she had not left her flat with enough cash.

But he persisted, even as the cars began to crawl.

Otokini who had been silent all the while took out a two hundred naira note from the dashboard and handed it to the man. "Give us two bottles."

"Ahh, Oga, I know sey una thirsty," the man said with glee. He dipped his hand into his bucket of drinks expertly and handed them two lacasera drink, cold and dripping.

As he ran off, she worked on her facial expression - wearing a calm expression - and placed the drinks at the middle.

"You look hot and thirsty," he said pointedly. "You should drink it. I'll drink mine later."

She wanted to argue with him, but she knew he had a point. She really was thirsty. Grabbing the drink, she opened it and gulped it down. Feeling the burn down her throat -- the liquid burn -- she felt relieved.

Otokini parked the car in front of a row of shops with a sign board that said, God's own plaza, at the back side of the market. He handed a man that sat aloof in front of the building some cash like he had been doing it in forever. A silent transaction. There was a certain rule in places like this: Pay for whatever you need to pay for, don't argue.

"You might want to stick close to me," he said, as they made their way into the busy and bustling market.

The smell of rotten cabbage filled her nostrils and she managed to breathe through her mouth till they reached his shop deep in the heart of the market.

The minutes of waiting stretched out as she watched Otokini move in and out of her line of vision. This branch, according to him, was a major one. It did not look like much, but Nigerians seemed to love buying things in the market. So he had brought his business into the market, reducing the prices but not the quality. Sure, it would not have as much quality as the products in his main branch, but it was a good ordeal.

Customers trooped in and out, buying materials, t-shirts and senators too. There were two tailors who were on standby to adjust clothes to people's sizes and sew for those who wanted their own style.

Chinonye watched, taking mental notes. She was thankful that her mind did not wonder rather it was in a state of calm.

"I hope you're jotting things down," he said as he rushed back in. She nodded.

After another while of dashing in and out, they were set to go. Otokini was a picture of perspiration and a fulfilled smile graced his face.

They were halfway to his car when she saw the clouds gather like white dust, and the sky turn dark gray. It wasn't until drops of rain came down that they increased their pace. They made a dash for a nearby shop as the rain came down in steady beats; brutal and in full force.

She was shivering as she stood beside him, her clothes mildly soaked. Their bodies were touching in the small corner they shared. Goosebumps formed on her skin and she felt a little tingle run down her spine. He turned to look at her, his eyes hidden by the darkness that was slowly encroaching.

"You're shivering," he stated.

She wanted to say, "Yes, thank you for stating the obvious." But she kept her mouth shut as he moved her inside the shelter and stood where the rain was splashing on him more.

"Now you're pulling this stunt on me," she said dryly.

"What stunt?"

"Nothing."

But it wasn't nothing.

As they stood there, shivering from the cold, bodies touching, she could feel warmth inside of her. She concluded that it was from his body heat.

The wind howled and the rain went on, not caring about the poor humans stuck under makeshift shops. Not caring about the goods that had been washed away, leaving their owners in misery. Not caring about the people that were cold and miserable.

But as the rain fell, it had done its work, for she would not be able to look at Mr Otokini the same way again.

Her mind did what it knew how to do best -- wander. Her mind wandered and stretched itself thin, travelling to places that she had shut out.

"Not now," she whispered. But she did not have control over it.

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