PART 9: The Watch My Grandmother Left Me

I woke up the next morning feeling like somebody had used my head to play football all night. Between Susan’s betrayal, Nancy’s confession, the existence of a secret group I never knew about and the whole Kemi Kuti situation, my brain couldn’t take it anymore.

Still, life no dey wait for anybody and bills certainly don’t.

By half past six, I was already getting ready for work. Saturdays were usually my favourite days because unlike my Monday-to-Friday job at the publishing firm where deadlines chased us around like masquerades, the private library where I worked on weekends was peaceful.

The pay wasn’t much, but it was enough to help me stay afloat and avoid constantly disturbing my parents for money.

As I stuffed my essentials into my shoulder bag, my hand brushed against something hard. I reached in and pulled out the complimentary card Kemi had given me.

I stared at it for a few seconds before sitting on the edge of my bed.

Should I call?

What if they had only been trying to be polite that night? What if they had already forgotten about me? Worse still, what if I called and they couldn’t even remember who I was?

“Hello, this is Yemi, the poor girl from the restaurant bathroom…”

No. Absolutely not.

I placed the card on my bed and walked over to the mirror to continue dressing up. After adjusting my blouse and smoothing down the few stubborn strands from my all-back cornrows, I nodded in satisfaction. At least, I looked presentable.

I was about to pick up the card again when my bedroom door suddenly flew open.

The scream that escaped my mouth almost brought down the house.

“Nancy!… Jesus Christ!… You nearly sent me to an early grave this morning!”

Nancy looked more offended than apologetic. “What is all this drama for? It’s too early in the morning for your drama abeg.”

I placed my hand dramatically on my chest. “Can you knock before barging into somebody’s room? One day, you will open this door and discover that I have relocated permanently to heaven because of you.”

Nancy rolled her eyes and threw something at me.

I caught it instinctively.

It was a wig.

Confused, I looked up. “I didn’t ask for a wig.”

“Oh, so you wanted to carry this your rough all-back to work?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

“My all-back is neat abeg.”

“Neat doesn’t mean suitable for work,” she replied matter-of-factly.

“Besides, did you honestly think I haven’t noticed you’ve been managing that your old wigs for months now? Just keep this one, don’t return it”

I wanted to argue, but the words died in my throat because she wasn’t wrong.

I looked down at the wig in my hands. It was one of Nancy’s simpler wigs, although simple by Nancy’s standards was still more expensive than anything I currently owned.

“Thank you,” I muttered quietly.

Nancy smiled. “You owe me gist o. Don’t think I’ve forgotten o.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Blackmailer.” Sticking my tongue out at her

“Call it whatever you like,” she laughed as she walked out. “Just make sure you come back early.”

The moment she left, my attention returned to the card squeezed up in my hand.

For a brief moment, I considered telling Nancy about Kemi and the invitation, but I quickly dismissed the idea. Not yet. I still wasn’t sure if Nancy was on my side or on the fence and acting as a spy.

Just then, my alarm sounded loudly from the bedside table.

I glanced at the time. “7:30 a.m”

“Jesus!” I exclaimed as I hurriedly wore the wig, grabbed my bag and rushed out of the house.

By a quarter past eight, I strolled into the library, clocked in and went straight to my desk situated in the front entrance.

Working at the library wasn’t exactly glamorous. Most of my mornings were spent logging returned books into the system, arranging them back on the shelves, registering new arrivals and attending to members. Occasionally, I helped people locate books or recommended titles to regular readers.

Unlike human beings, books hardly disappointed you. Books don’t create secret groups behind your back. Books don’t pretend to love you in public and mock you in private. Books certainly don’t call you poor with one wicked sweet smile.

I had just finished helping one elderly member locate a cooking recipe book for what felt like the hundredth time when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“Excuse me, do you work here now?”

Something about the voice made me freeze instantly. I slowly looked up and nearly fell off my chair.

Standing in front of me was Adaeze. The same Adaeze from the restaurant.

Only this time, she looked even more beautiful dressed in a simple white jumpsuit with oversized sunglasses resting on her head. Beside her stood one of the girls from the restaurant bathroom.

“Adaeze?” I blurted out.

She smiled immediately. “Thank God! You actually remember me.”

I blinked several times, still trying to process what was happening. “What are you doing here?”

Adaeze laughed softly. “Honestly, I should be asking you that. Do you know Kemi and I have practically been looking for you all over Lagos?”

My mouth fell open. “Looking for me? Why?”

“Because somebody disappeared,” Adaeze said dramatically. “We even went back to the restaurant twice hoping to see you again. We left our contact with the manager and everything.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “You people did all that?”

“Of course,” she replied. “At some point, we genuinely thought you had given us a fake name.”

“Why would I do that?”

Adaeze shrugged. “I don’t know. Rich people problems.”

I laughed despite myself.

Her expression softened slightly. “Seriously though, Yemi, why didn’t you call?”

I lowered my gaze. “Honestly, I thought maybe you people were just being nice in the moment. People don’t usually look for me twice.”

The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Adaeze’s face softened immediately.

“Oh, Yemi,” she said quietly. “Kemi was actually upset when we couldn’t find you. She’s been talking about your grandmother and that wristwatch ever since.”

I looked up in surprise. “Really?”

Adaeze nodded. “Trust me, if you don’t attend tomorrow’s gala, Kemi might personally come looking for you again.”

I looked at her with the same expression I had worn in the restaurant bathroom that day. “The event is tomorrow, right?”

“Yes,” she replied with a smile. “You know what? Just give me your number in case you decide to bail on us again. That way, we’ll know exactly where to find you.” She winked playfully as she pulled out her phone from her handbag, ready to type.

I gave her my number absentmindedly, still trying to process everything that was happening.

Honestly, I was dumbfounded.

Why were these girls so determined to have me around? Why did they seem to genuinely care about me? What exactly had I done to deserve this kind of attention? Was it really just because of my grandmother’s wristwatch, or was there something everyone else could see that I couldn’t?

Whatever it was, one thing was becoming increasingly clear, my life was changing, and I just didn’t know whether that change would be for better or worse.

As Adaeze turned to leave, she suddenly stopped and looked back at me.

“Oh, and Yemi, please don’t forget to wear the wristwatch tomorrow. Kemi would really love to see it again.”

Before I could ask why, she had already walked away.

I stood there rooted to the spot, staring after her retreating figure.

Why was everybody suddenly so interested in my grandmother’s old wristwatch?

#thecomfortadeyeye#FictionStory#AllRightsReversed#NoCopying