The Lord’s Will

Hello friends, it's been ages. We bring you a literary piece we know you'll find interesting. It's a true life story. It's a 6-part truly intriguing and inspiring story. Please hang around for the rest parts...

Femi’s face lit up with joy once he saw Kemi sashaying along the road, swaying her hips rhythmically in the soft suns beams of the twilight. He felt a rush of emotions; the kind that had gnawed at his heart for months with a bitter-sweet sting. The kind that pumped at his ribcage uncontrollably and weakened him at his feet and he only manages to mask with a boyish swagger. 

The white of his eyes shone brighter as Kemi got closer and made to pass Suya Joint and Football Viewing Centre where Femi and other young men had gathered for weekend leisure. They were arguing about the latest English Premier Leagues results of Chelsea, Manchester United, Arsenal and Liverpool; and other inanities before Femi’s sudden silence slowed the tempo of their excitement. 

Femi said something in a low grunt that passed for excuse to the cluster of the young men at his table and stood up to intersect Kemi before she hurried past them. The young men – about eight of them, in their late 20’s; a motley of personality types you often see in public gatherings – grunted too in return and nodded, a knowing smile crisscrossing their faces. 

 “Hi, Beauty,” Femi greeted and forced a coy smile on his face. Soft twilight rays bounced off his receding hairline and cast a shade of beige on his tired jeans and grey shirt. 

As Femi walked towards Kemi from the other end of the pathway, he slowed his pace at a quiet, less busy spot. In the circumstances, it was the perfect spot to once more unburden his mind to Kemi – even if he had done so many times in the past and in so many different places and situations that he had lost count and perhaps some self-respect. 

Kemi sighted Femi from a corner of her eyes and stifled a smile emerging on her face. She scoffed and made to dash past him, but changed her mind midway.  She stopped, rested her body on her right hip and fixed Femi with a patient, studying gaze. But it was exactly the kind of posture that often unsettled Femi; that made monetarily loose his composure and sputter. Kemi’s tight-fitting, three-quarter dress hugged her Figure 8 contours somehow overwhelmed Femi and made him secretly drool. He tugged lightly at the scruff of his shirt and gulped hard, then with his dull white handkerchief, he wiped of the tiny beads of sweat now gathering on his face. 

“You’re sweating,” Kemi said and Femi feared the worst. Perhaps she has heard the sound of his heartbeats. 

It tickled Kemi how easily she could wear him out, yet barely uttering a sound. She twirled a few strands of her hair and let a teasing smile settle on her lips. After what looked like an eternal interlude, she yawned sarcastically. “Femi, what do you want?” She asked in a feigned tired voice. 

“But Kemmmiiii…” Femi drew out her name in a persuasive voice – almost pleadingly. “You know I like you a lot. I know you know it. In fact, I know everyone in Egbeda knows it now, but what do I care?” Femi held Kemi’s hand lightly and tried to press it lovingly like love-struck couples would do on the eve of their wedding in the cool breeze and warm shadows of a moonlit night. 

Kemi slowly pulled her hand away, but Femi continued his wooing ritual, his voice now almost a bedroom whisper; and his eyes misting. “There are things you just can’t fight...”

He was serious. He wasn’t fibbing. Kemi knew it. She has always known it. 

“But Femi, I’ve heard those same lines like a thousand times this week from boys of all sorts in this area?” Kemi remonstrated in measured, prim and proper tone. “Your own lines are even the most ordinary. No sparks whatsoever. They are boring me to death,” she teased him, bunching her lips sideways and keeping a straight face. 

“I am serious, Kemi. Please, stop lumping me together with ‘boys of all sorts,’” Femi said. “You know that, don’t you? I don’t want anyone else beside you. I want to be with you only even if it is just as a friend. Not just that, I hope from there someday we can take it to the next level. I am serious and I mean every single word.”

Kemi’s ears tingled at the words “the next level.” In the street lexicon of boy and girl dating, that meant ‘marriage.’ She playfully wrapped her fingers round a stray curly strand of her hair again and tilted her head sideways for a better view of his face and maybe his heart.  

Her eyes were becoming googly now. She liked him. He was smart, friendly, hardworking and often spoke with a simple but firm conviction that always willy-nilly broke down her defences. Yes, she liked him a lot just the same way he liked her. But that could be where it ended. There was not likely to be a “next level” because he was not the Lord’s will for her in marriage. Or rather, he was not the Lord’s will for her, according to Prophet Samson.