The yellowish golden rays of the morning sun, peered through the narrow, vertical demarcation between the pair of pink curtains that covered the window. The ray fell, in an oblique fashion, across her face, splitting her left eye into two unequal halves. She turned in opposing response to the light; she woke up. The morning seemed so different. Maybe, this was because she could not recall the last time the sun met her on bed. She had been a workaholic since eternity; even on Sundays, she had to attend morning mass. The difference of this morning was like a red ink on a white paper – so clear.
Her eyes felt heavy. Then, it dawned on her that she had spent most of the night awake. She is to go on a date, by 8:00pm. The euphoria slowly returned. The euphoria that had kept her awake, almost all through the night; it slowly billowed like a smoke, sculpting ghostly image of his face, on her mind. She could hear his juvenile baritone voice echo in her head, when he elegantly asked “Can we talk over a meal on Saturday night?” The word “Yes” had left her mouth, even before she fully understood what he meant; though, she never regretted her impatience. “Who would actually say ‘no’ to such a complete dude?” she had thought. Nobody had ever made her look so stupid. Maybe because she never gave guys a second look. Maybe, her pursuit of being a medical doctor had eaten half of her social life. Maybe, just maybe.
She dislodged from her bed, slid her fair legs into a pair of pink furred slippers, and plodded into the bathroom.
It took ages for the evening to show up. She had spent the whole day indoors, reminiscing on the streak of events that trailed her past. She remembered how she had been among the brightest students in her high school days. She was known for always studying her books. She was beautiful – she is still beautiful – but, she was seen as a beautiful, rude nerd that always talks down on any guy who tries to preach the “love sermon,” as she calls it. Sometimes she gets too full of herself, and she knows it. “It’s called self-esteem” she’ll say, consoling her conscience.
She recalled how, during her post-utme exam at the University of Ibadan, she had met a guy who approached her, and told her how beautiful she was, even with her glasses.
“Do you mind if I get your pho – “
“Oh, shut up!” she shrieked “You guys think you can throw you lyrical stunts on any girl you see, huh?”
This scene had attracted the, now scrutinizing, eyes of the hundreds of fellow applicants in the hall. This was accompanied by nudges and stifled giggles. The poor boy, whose self-esteem has been shattered like a glass cup fed to gravity from a three story building, walked out of the hall, face down and drooped shoulders. Three days later she had received an SMS that read “You will surely pay for this.” She knew he was the one – who else could it be? She never wondered how he got her number because, they had filled an attendance sheet that day, which had a column for Phone number. He wrote after me; I was number 33 while he was number 34, she recalled.
Her thoughts drifted to her university days. Being a medical student at the prestigious University of Ibadan was not a child’s play for her – not just her, anybody. She carried her rude attitude over to the university setting. She maintained her academic position as one of the best students, but, had just few friends – 95% females. The guys had tagged her as a no go area. The university experience had been all bookish for her. That’s how she wanted it. She had little or no social activities. Dates… talking about dates, she had never been on one. Her only experience of dates was behind the screen of a television. All these had happened about years ago. Now, she is a successful medical doctor; earning big and living a comfortable life, but, there is still a mismatch in the puzzle.
Sitting on a chair just in front of a matching table, she drew open her make-up drawer, and arranged her facial arsenals on the table. She began the self-imposed job; starting from the foundation, down to the highlighting, brow lining, lashes brushing, and finally lip painting, which she painted red, to march with the dinner gown she had ordered from Jumia, specially for this event.
During the make-up session, thoughts of him caressed her mind, again. How they had met at the hospital where she worked, and he said he graduated as a first class student, from the department of Petroleum Engineering, in the University of Ibadan. They both got admission the same year; but, he finished his five years course and went to further his studies abroad. He came back and is now working, as a senior staff, in an Oil Rig. She never recalled seeing his face before in her life.
“Alright, am done.” She muttered, turning to her gold plated wall clock. The time was already 7:30pm. She didn’t want to run late. She stood up, grabbed her Range Rover Sport car keys and her IPhone 6, and drove to the rendezvous – a Chinese restaurant, which was owned by his dad.
She entered, and went straight to one of the three empty tables left, after observing the full house. She wondered why the restaurant was so full today. She ordered a bottle of water, which she gracefully sipped, while waiting. The time was 8:10 already.
“Attention, please!” a masculine voice echoed over the speakers in the restaurant. “I urge you all to maintain your composure as something entertaining is about to take place now. Please do well to focus on any of the floating information screen on the four corners of the restaurant. Thank you.” Immediately, the bright lights went dim-red; causing a mild uproar which died down after seconds. The screen read – I KNOW YOU ARE WAITING FOR ME. WE ARE SUPPOSED TO HAVE A DATE TONIGHT, BUT, IT’S A PRANK. TODAY MARKS A PERFECT DATE FOR THIS DATE. APRIL FOOL! MY DEAR…..COURTESY: POST UTME, NO. 34 TO THE FAIR LADY ON RED GOWN.
Immediately, a bright spotlight focused on her and everyone in the restaurant burst out in laughter; some videoing, and taking camera shots of her, with their phones. It now dawned on her that, that day was April 1st. “So it’s him,” she thought “How could he?” Her heart beat pounded faster and heavier; she could feel her heart forcing its way out of her chest. Goose bumps engulfed her skin, fear gripped her. The shame was too much for her to bear. She felt her buttocks glued to the chair. Her head faced down, with tear drops appeasing the earth to break open and swallow her up. Her situation reached its apex when she heard a voice from behind her, which sounded like a male resident doctor in her hospital, “Doctor!” she turned and it was her male colleague. Her eyes went dim; she passed out.