Praises Chidera Obiora
That day, after the close of work, i drove down to the flower shop to buy Uju some flowers. It was weekends and i made it a weekly rituals to buy Uju gifts during the weekends. I have been doing this ever since we got married and to be sincere, i have no idea on how to even st©p. I felt she would begin to feel somehow the moment i start returning without my usual weekends gift. Probably she will begin to think my love for her was beginning to depreciate the day i st©pped showering her with gifts .
It had happened once . I couldn’t br@nch the flower shop as usual, so i decided to buy her suya instead. I drove back home tired and exhausted that very Friday and parked my car. I got into the house and Uju ran to welcome me as usual. She collect my brief case and gave me a hvg. She kept looking round expecting her usual weekends gift.
It wasn’t until late at night, while we were about slee-ping that Uju raised the t©pic stylishly.
” Honey it seems you had a bad day. ”
” no . no i didn’t. Just that i had a stressful day.” i replied.
” No wonder you didn’t buy me my usual gift .” she blurted.
It was at that moment everything occurred to me. Her face expressions, her slow work and grin and her complete moodiness all throu-gh that evening. Pronto, i stood up from the be-d, gr@bb£d onto my car keys and ran to get the suya from the car.
When i returned back with it, It was as if a crying baby had seen its mothers br£@st milk and was about to s–k. Smiles covered her face as she gr@bb£d on to the suya leather. She opened up the leather like a starved child would, and began to munch the suya. She wasn’t a lover of onions , so i was fed the onions while she ate the suya; What a man has to do when he loves a woman.
Purple flowers was her favourite of them all. At first, when i started the flower rituals, Uju pretended to love the red flowers. I mean, every lady loves a red flower, who doesn’t. And so i made sure i drove down to the flower shop; a complete one hour journey, just to get her red flowers. I kept buying her the red flowers and s£nding to her. I wondered were she dropped them. I ba-rely saw any of the flowers s£nt to her. But i wasn’t derailed by that because her gratitude and love shown anytime i bought her the flowers , encouraged me to buy even more.
One very day, i had come to the flower shop as usual, but the shop keeper told me that the red flowers were taken, but she had purple flowers. The shop keeper was a woman, and after giving me her expertise on love and what women wants, and persuading me to buy the purple flowers, i finally opted for it.
I took it to Uju. I was scared she wouldn’t like it. But when she saw me with the purple flower in my hands, she ran over to collect it happily.
” Babe this is my favourite colour” she exclaimed happily.
” I swear i love it. The t©uçh of white is fine. This is just what i want. ” she added.
I began to wonder why she never told me , ” Uche don’t get me the red flowers, plea-se get me purple instead”. That would had simply solved the issue and saved me the stress of always driving such long distance to buy her red flowers. Never the less, I returned everyday to find the purple flowers placed in a glas-s bowl filled with water, and that is how it has continued till d@t£.
I finally arrived the shop and walked in. The shop keeper, a very tall beautiful slender woman, smiled on seeing me.
” Good evening sir. ” she greeted warmly.
” Good evening Madam. I nee-d my usual. ” i requested.
She chuckled, and walked towards the bundle of purple flowers. She soon returned with quite a few bundles for me to choose from.
” sir you are lucky o ” she spoke in a calm voice.
” How do you mean madam?” I chuckled.
” You are one of the few Nigerian men who walk into this place every week to buy flowers. Are you a vegetarian?” She asked.
i stoop to look at her.
” what do you mean by vegetarian. ? ” i asked.
” i mean , are you a lover of vegetables? Or may be you plant trees in your house ” she said smiling.
I knew where she was heading with all her question. Even though she flaunted those smiles receptionist gave to customers, i felt she was trespas-sing into my privacy. I c@m£ to buy flowers, her duty was to sell me flowers and let me go. Not ask me what and who i was buying flowers for. I wasn’t taking this personal. At least not tonight, i thought to myself.
” No am not a vegetarian. I just buy them for my wife. ” i replied calmly.
” Wow that is so ro-mantic sir. All this white women and flowers seff. They just love flowers and want you to get them flowers every week. You know white people loves flowers alot ” she spoke, separating the flowers she had brou-ght so i could choose from.
” No. My wife is not white. She is a Nigerian. And an Igbo woman just like you. ”
” An Igbo woman? An Igbo woman loves flower like this? ” she asked.
” Yes of cause. What did you expect her to love? Money? ” I asked ” I will take this one, the one with the t©uçh of white ” i said, pointing to the beautifully tied up flower.
” Okay sir. ” she replied, almost in a whisper.
” But sir you are lucky o. My b©yfri£ndcan not be buying me flowers and i will collect o. Didn’t he see shawarma and burger to buy me? Or even ice cream and chicken. Who flower epp? ”
” well you said your b©yfri£nd. This is my wife. plea-se put it in the bag let me go. ” i said, pu-lling out the money from my wallet and handing it over to her.
I walked out of the shop that day and made up my mind never to return there again. Too much familiarity is a problem. Now i saw the reason why Patrick ended up using and dumping as many girls as he liked. This were girls who were moved by snacks and ice cream , while they ignored the simple ro-mantic things a guy in love would had loved doing for them.
Not every lady was like Uju. No wonder i had fallen so much in love with her. Our love life was built on plain r0m@nç£, rather than money and physical items.
I arrived home 7pm at night, and knocked at the door. The door was opened up by Amaka. She had my wife’s wra-pper tied to her che-st. Her b©dy was dripping water and oozing out h0t vapor. I was stunned and starred at the magnificent creation of Amaka’s succulent brea-st, which stood firm on her che-st, like a fearless warrior. Its size were like the size of a basket ball. No doubt, God must have really taken his time in drawing and designing this well built figure that stood in front of me. She was ba-re footed and the wra-pper had st©pped below her knees, revea-ling her fresh fat fair l@ps.
To be continued…
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