Just a Crack (6)

crack

I simply look at the ice roll down the fanta that Efya has brought out from her fridge to serve to the serpents sitting right before me.

To my amazement they acted like everything would be ok between us all, in her words” after all its been 5 years 6 months”

Jacqueline looked like in the last 5 years all she did was smoke crack, while Djimon beat her and he looked like he swallowed a truck.

Torn out of my reverie by Jacqueline’s irritating laughter, I try to piece together whatever nonsense had been so funny.

“ you know Efya, you and your brother were the light of my life and I was devastated when you left me 3 years ago” she turns to me, “ Ajifa, my heart went out to you every day from the day you left us”

I look at her with such disgust. “so this same heart didn’t go out to me when your boyfriend was choke rapping me ehn? And explicitly performing his BDSM crap on me?”

Just a Crack (5)

crack

 

5 years later.

Its official, I had become a graduate of History and International Relations and boy, did it feel good! I threw my cap up in the air with my mates and felt the wave of freedom envelop me. I looked back at the row for Efya and baba (who insists he be called Marvin) they both looked teary eyed. Efya was more so happy knowing where we came from and how this was almost an impossibility.

She was already enrolled at the University of Lagos studying statistics and I was the proudest I could have ever been of her.

I thought of the life I had built for myself and my siblings, it wasn’t too shabby. A beautiful house in Lekki Phase 1, a nice range rover sport, and a mini cooper, Marvin was in one of the best schools in Lagos and Efya was in her own rented and furnished apartment off campus.

We had everything we needed and there was nothing anyone could do to take this away from us. I had worked my back to the bone and I was damn proud of my achievements.

Just a Crack (3)

crack

“Who would you blame today?” that’s exactly what Amaka said before she left and never returned. Today I guess I blame her. She saw a poor beggar on the street and should have left me there but she took compassion on me and housed me till I was looking like a child ready to be stuffed in the oven.

It was her fault that I got introduced to the life of an escort and also her fault I had to keep up with my clients knowledge, to be honest the latter part was always my best.

Amaka would say with such pride and Joy “ they don’t pay for just our bodies, they pay for our minds as well, that is what differentiates us escorts from regular N200 prostitutes”

She always thought it was offensive to be as dumb as a door knob and I agreed, the thing is even if I didn’t, who was I to question her? She picked me off the streets, took me in , educated me in her own way, fed me  and taught me to sustain myself financially. The most shocking was that she let me keep all my money and never asked me for a dime.