Chapter 6: A Blank Canvas in Ogbomosho

I open family WhatsApp group. Last message still dey from five years ago.

The group name still dey: "Okoye & Umeh Union." All the old prayer points still dey there.

I type, delete, type again, but at last, I just send two words: [Congrats.]

The word short, but e heavy. I fit imagine mama face when she go read am. I dey hope say the peace wey I no fit find go enter there.

After I send am, everywhere just quiet.

No reply, no blue tick. Even the old group icon still dey—picture of me and Nnenna wearing matching wrappers.

I click comot from the group chat.

My hand shake, but I no look back. I dey free myself small small.

I go back room, pack all my painting things.

My brushes, palette, all my old sketches—na so I gather everything, each one dey remind me of old pain and hope.

Carry my portfolio, drag my box, I buy night bus ticket go south.

I price ticket with conductor for park, the man dey pity me, but I no care. I just want waka far.

I enter bus at night.

The bus dey smell of dust, groundnut, and perfume. I fit hear old Fuji music from radio. The chair rough, but I dey grateful.

Most people for the coach don sleep.

Their head dey nod, some dey snore, some dey hold small baby. One old woman dey pray with rosary for back seat.

Na when I lean back for seat, I finally relax small.

I fit close eye, the pain for my chest reduce. I dey think, maybe tomorrow go better.

The bus dey move slow.

Every bump for road dey shake my spirit, but I dey hold myself tight. Na this kind journey dey reset person mind.

Conductor dey shout, "Ogbomosho straight! No change for front!"

As the small snoring dey fill the air, I close my eyes.

I breathe in, smell of diesel mix with cold air from window. I tell myself, 'Ifunanya, you go survive.'

Tomorrow fit bring wahala, but today, I get myself back.

My mind just dey go back to the year I first meet Olumide.

That memory dey fresh. Na rainy season, the sky dark, but my hope dey high.

That year, I be twenty.

Young, full of dreams. My skin dey shine, my heart dey soft. I dey believe in love like storybook.

For one art exhibition, I jam Olumide.

E stand near painting, him suit sharp, him eye dey search the room. I remember how my heart beat that day.

To talk true, na the painting I see first.

The colours dey deep, the brush stroke bold. I waka go close, my mind dey fly.

Under the street light, the shadow for the painting just long and twist, I no fit remove eye.

I stretch hand, almost touch am, but I stop myself. My soul connect with that canvas.

“You like this painting well.”

The voice deep, e enter my ear like sweet song. I turn, see tall man, skin chocolate, smile just dey corner of him mouth.

Na deep, sweet male voice I hear for back.

I turn, see Olumide’s deep eyes, small smile dey his face.

His teeth white, his gaze steady. For that moment, I know say my own don start.

For that moment, my heart just skip.

E be like film, everything slow down. Na only me and him dey for room.

Just like all those Nollywood love movies, I fall in love at first sight.

My chest dey drum, my mouth dry. Na so love dey enter person without warning.

“Yes, the mood for the painting good,” I answer politely.

I try form small, no wan show all my feeling. My voice dey steady, but my heart dey race.

As we talk, I learn say the painting na Olumide mama last work before she die.

He voice soft as he talk about her. I see small pain for his eyes. E touch me, I dey want near am more.

Na our first meeting be that.

From that day, my heart dey sing. I dey replay our talk for mind, dey smile for sleep.

I try small small to near am, finally collect him contact.

Na so I dey text am, dey wait for reply, dey hope for small smile.

But so what if na me meet am first?

Love na by turn, not by speed. Sometimes, destiny dey use person play.