Jeremiah

Basketball.

That was one of the things I loved doing to blow off steam. Not like I was good with it, as I was with football, but since I couldn't really play football anymore, basketball had become my safe place.

To everyone else, it was just basketball, but to me it was taking all my anger and frustration, and throwing them all into a basket that was a few feet taller than me, just like how it was for me with football. I needed this, I needed this to be an escape place, a distraction for all the crazies that have been happening in my life. I had come here from the restaurant, and I just couldn't stop myself from asking myself why?

Why she didn't even bother to see me, even for a second? A second would have been enough. Didn't she miss me? After all these years, didn't she ever want to be reunited with me again? Why did she keep throwing me away? Why did she keep pretending like I didn't exist? How on earth was she able to live her life like nothing happened? Like I wasn't there? Like I'm not there?

I threw the ball into the basket, and called it a day. I was tired anyway, I just needed a cold bath to rid myself of all that sweat, and then something to eat, perhaps. Good lord, I was starving. I could feel the sweat dripping from my face as I dabbed it quickly with my face towel. I slowly turned to the bleachers surrounding the really huge basketball court, taking the towel down my face slowly, I frowned.

Right in the middle of the third row, she was sitting right there, waving at me with a huge smile on her face the moment we made eye contact.

My fiancée, Oma.

How on earth did she find me? I wasn't even ready for this. I rolled my eyes the moment I watched her reach for the shopping bag on the chair beside hers, she got up with it. I could tell she was trying to come to me immediately.

So here's the tea.

Oma and I, we are betrothed. Soulmates, as a lot of people usually called us. We've been engaged since I was nine years old. Funny, but true. I guess that's the thing about rich people, they always find a way, some form of insurance for the future and somehow, their kids end up being a part of it most of the time. Unlike like me, Oma could never relate to poverty. She had lived in a mansion and had maids at her beck and call all her life. She owned shares in her name and properties too even before she was born. Oma Richards.

Oma's father and my father were the closest of friends, and business partners too. Her father owned Richwell, one of the biggest oil companies in the country and also the company with the biggest oil-wells. Richwell owned about three oil wells, an oil well more than Benoil, but it was not only that, Richwell was one of the only few companies in the continent that produced her own cars. Trust me, it was a big deal. My father always talked about her father, about how goal oriented and smart he was. The guy for every business, and that was why he always said they thought alike. That was why they were friends, friends for a long time, and they wanted to turn family, to unite both families, and so the idea to wed Oma and I came along, at least to my knowledge.

Right before, and even after the separation of Oma's parents, till her father's death, both families wanted us to end up together. I remember how they always made us play together while growing up, even though I wasn't really a fun kid as a child. It's funny because Oma wanted this wedding, just as much as I don't. Not that I care what happens in my life anymore anyway.

She loved me, even before we both knew what love was, or maybe she thought she did. Oma had lived her life dedicated to me, to our reputation as the most powerful teen couple in the continent. According to Emmanuel, My dad always brought it up every time she flew hours to the states to see me.

I kind of feel bad for her. I always knew how attached she was to her father, and it did a number on her when he died, especially since she was so young. Good thing he left her all that wealth. I felt that's what father was really after, Richard's wells, and he was going to use my marriage with Oma to get it. Typical politics. She always used to tell me that I was all she had left. That I was the only one that knew her and understood her like he did. I honestly wished I could tell her how I really felt. I tried, so many times but Oma wasn't really the type to give up on anything, or take no for an answer. When she wants something, she stops at nothing to get it, just like her father, and that's what my father liked about her.

She came to a halt in front of me, just as I bent my head to meet hers.

"I've been trying to call you." She was trying so hard not to frown. I knew she wanted to so badly. It was obvious I had been intentionally ignoring her calls. It was obvious I was avoiding her too. "How come I'm the last person that knows you're back?"

I exhaled.

"Come on Oma, I was going to tell you eventually."

"I am your fiancée, I have every right to know when you choose to do something like this. It's been days since you got back. How can you just come back without telling me? I had to hear it from Natalie first."

"We just met in the states two weeks ago-"

"Two week's ago isn't-" she took a deep breath. Of course she knew better not to start nagging again. It was the last thing we both needed. "We had plans Jer, plans to go to Nile together, I made plans and now you're just going to bail on me to go to that lame school? NAUN? Really? Without telling me?"

"I'm sorry." Now I had to be the perfect gentle man that I had always been. "I've just been too caught up in stuff-"

"It's okay." She exhaled, taking the frown off her face. Was she really passing on an opportunity to pick a fight with me? That was what I wanted. "It doesn't matter anyway, you're here now." She stretched the bag to me. "Happy anniversary."

I hesitated for a while. Did she just say anniversary?
Today was our anniversary? How on earth could I have forgotten?

"Oh." I looked into the bag. There was a shoe box inside.

"It's a Nike air mag, back to the future." She told me as I took a quick peek into the box. "I got the mayor of Lagos to sign on them too, mayorkun? Both legs."

I raised my eyes to her. She looked so excited. She didn't smile much, but I just knew.

"Thank you." I told her. "I Uh- I didn't get you anything."

"Well you could make up for it."
Did she already plan this? "Lunch." She told me. "You could take me out for lunch."

"Uh-" I had to think for a second.

"Come on, you owe me. It's the least you could do for ignoring my calls and not telling me you were back."

I nodded my head. Lunch it was.

"Okay." I agreed. "Let me just wash up and change my clothes then."

"I'll wait." She nodded too.

I nodded again.

"Yeah." I took two steps back right before I heard a loud yell, we both turned to the stairs as three girls came running down from it. 

Here we go again. We should have kept the door shut. I heard Oma let out a frustrated exhale and then she placed a hand beside her face before she turned to face me.

"Oh my God, it's really them." One of them yelled the moment they got closer. "It's Jeremiah." The first girl kept yelling and staring at me. She had a bag in one hand, and the other hand covering her mouth.

"Don't mind us." Another girl cut in. "We are just too excited to bump into you both here. Mirabel said she saw Oma get inside, and you were in here too, we just wanted to see for ourselves. It's true." The other girl jumped in excitement. She quickly turned to Oma and grabbed her hands gently.

"Uh," I started "Girls, really now is not a good time-"

"You both are here." She told Oma. Oma forced a smile on her lips. "You have no idea how much the both of you mean to me. I love you both, we love you both- I still can't believe it!"

"No, I can't believe it. I finally get to see Jeremiah Ozor for the first time in my life and what's even better, the power couple together, in real life."  The third girl said. Oma chuckled nervously, slowly pulling her hands away from the girl's.

"Can I get an autograph please?"
I turned to the girl in front of me, who had got out a pen and her white leather  handbag . She wanted me to sign on it. It's not like I could refuse. I exhaled and then took the pen from her. I signed and then returned the bag to her.

"Oh my God-"

"I'm really happy you stopped by guys, I truly am." I told them walking to Oma who was busy wiping her hands on her dress. Just by looking at her, I could tell how irritated she was  "But we have somewhere to be right now." I reached for Oma's hands.

"Right now?" One of the girls pouted.

"Can't we at least get a picture?"

"Uh, not today guys. Some other time, I promise, but not just today." I wasn't exactly feeling like being in any pictures yet. I just wanted to eat and go home.

"Just one-"

"Are you deaf?" Oma glared at the third one. Now she had had enough. "Didn't you hear him? He said not today." She snapped at her. "What's wrong with you people and staying in your lane."

"What's wrong with her?" One of them whispered to the other. "Why is she shouting at us?"

"I told you she was an uncouth bitch." The other one whispered loud enough for Oma to hear. Oma's frown grew worse. She took a step towards them.

"What did you just say?"

"I didn't say anything that everyone doesn't know." She snapped back. "Everyone knows the kind of a person you are, Oma Richards. Spoiled and extremely mannerless. No wonder I don't like you. I wonder how Jeremy copes with you."

Oma scoffed. With the way she bit on hard on her lower lip, I knew if I had not stepped in, something was going to happen.

"Okay, that's enough girls." I pulled Oma back from taking another step to her. "We are done here. Have a nice day." I pulled Oma away quickly.

"But Jeremy-"
I could hear one of them call my name like she was about to cry. I didn't care. I didn't stop for a second. We just kept walking till we were out of the court. Out of what would have been a war zone.