She sat by the sedan reminiscing the fun moments spent with Adebayo, regretfully intertwined by the deceptive memory of the love she rued finding. She was tall, white, skinny, a born British, and of course the mother of four kids. After the death of her beloved husband five years ago, Eva had lost all hope of ever finding love again. She was in her early sixties, so the word ‘love’ was a thing of the past for her. So she thought, until she met Ade the bartender.
Ade was only a month old in England, thanks to his connections that led him to secure himself a job so fast. A well-behaved handsome looking young man he camouflaged to be. Eva the lover of exotic drinks would visit the Cent’ES Bar & Club every Saturday, not just to satisfy her taste but also to have a one-on-one with Ade—clearly she couldn’t resist his charming personality.
Few weeks later, they planned to tie the knot together forever. The person she just recently knew became the only happiness she now knew—blinded by her emotions; for the love of Ade.
“This is unacceptable to us, Eva! Getting married to a black Man,” her parents disagreed, but soon gave their consent. “At least the kids will now have someone they can call Father,” they said.
Ade was just twenty two when he wedded Eva Edwards—at the Manchester’s most famous court. It was an epic wedding, the entire neighbourhood couldn’t stop talking about for the whole week. Just like any other love story, Ade promised Eva heaven and earth. Unfortunately for her, he took the heaven out of her earthly life. All the wealth she had worked for, everything her late husband left for his children were all taken away in just a year—a year as Mrs. Adebayo.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but he left for Nigeria just this morning,” were the words the travel agent told her.
She couldn’t help herself when she ran down the alley of heartbreak to the castle they built together; with her wealth so to say. She entered the royally decorated room and sat dispirited close to the sedan—that carried her last night for their one year wedding anniversary. Tears rolled down her carefully sketched round big eyeballs down her folded cheeks. Her semi grey hairs could be seen through the rectangular mirrors decorated around the sedan, as she tries to get on her feet.
“Madam, the new chauffeur you requested us to bring a week ago is here,” the chief guard said.
“Ok. Hmmm! Let him in.”
“Good morning ma’am, I’m Bello from the chauffeur’s institute,” he said. If only he didn’t continue with the introduction, he would have been kindly rejected, as she could no longer afford to hire a chauffeur.
“And I am from Nigeria,” he uttered.
“Get out! Get out of my house, my life and my country. I don’t need your services anymore, you are all the same. YOU ARE ALL NIGERIANS!”