Chronicles Of A Runs Girl - S01 E72

2 years ago

Chronicles Of A Runs Girl - S01 E72

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 72

Later that day we were all at Johnny’s house. I’d never seen so many Lebanese people in the same place at the same time. Rotimi was there as well, and his friend my lawyer, Amaka.

John junior had been avoiding me all day. I found an opportunity to corner him in the kitchen when he went to take a call away from the noise in the parlour. As soon as he saw me coming he ended his call. I asked him how he was at the same time as he was asking me the same thing.

“Thanks, Amaka,” he said.

“For what?”

“For being there for my dad.”

“He’s like a father to me.”

“I guess that makes me like a brother to you?”

“I guess.”

We both smiled, following an awkward moment, then we hugged.

“Thanks,” I whispered into his ear.

“For what?”

“Just, thanks.”

When I returned to the parlour Johnny was standing up gesticulating as he narrated his fantastic take on his abduction.

His friends, the Americans, had immediately left the country, probably never to return, and with them his investment dreams, but he was beaming and boasting and totally loving being the centre of attraction.

“And this one,” he said to his audience, “When my son called her to come and put her life in danger to rescue me, she just said Oya now!”

I was just so happy he was back.

I excused myself to go take a shower. The truth was I wanted to be alone to say a thank you prayer to God and to cry out whatever tears remained in me.

Somehow, one terrible thing on Falomo Bridge had planted something in my heart that was to change me forever. It had started with the London boy and it had come full circle back to him, or at least to his brother.

If not for the stupid boy I wouldn’t have become so afraid of life as usual. I wouldn’t have started questioning my choices, and Kike’s boyfriend calling her and ashewo like that wouldn’t have had such an impact on me.

Am I a prostitute? I’ve never thought of myself as one. Yes I do runs, but only to survive. I don’t buy GUCCI belts and LV bags. I don’t wear Brazilian hair. I don’t stand on the street prostituting myself. But I need money, to pay for my school and to help my mother. Does that make me a prostitute? What is a runs girl anyway, if not a prostitute in denial? An ashewo like that: Yes, I am what I was. WAS, being the operative word.

And if Johnny hadn’t been kidnapped, I wouldn’t have been arrested and the Nigerian police force wouldn’t be paying me five million naira not to sue them. And I wouldn’t have met Rotimi.

Oh, by the way. I can imagine Brutus swearing by all the gods of his ancestors that he never filmed anything, and he would have been telling the truth. Amaka never had a video, there was no video. What she showed me on her phone at the police commissioner’s house was a text message that simply read “There is no video but if they think there is one they will pay you not to sue them.”

Amaka, it turns out, works for a charity called The Street Samaritans and one of what they do is sue the police on behalf of people who can’t sue by themselves, people like me.

I came downstairs and found Johnny, John junior, Amaka and Rotimi talking like old friends.

“Omoge, where have you been? We thought they had kidnapped you too,” Johnny said.

“Me? You think I’m butter like you?”

I joined them and discovered that they were talking about politics and not me, what a relief. Amaka was making a point that there were not enough female politicians in the country, and according to her this was the reason Nigeria is the way it is. She asked how half the population – men – can determine the fates of the whole nation. Johnny asked her if she was a feminist and I cringed because up till then I thought the term referred to something bad, or at least something not socially acceptable.

“Yes,” she answered in a matter of fact manner.

“So am I,” Johnny declared in his jovial and loud manner.

After that it was all about feminism and liberal feminism and third-wave feminism and… I was lost, at least then.

Rotimi had been very quiet. At some point he took my hand and we just held hands over the armrests separating us.

“You,” Johnny said to him, “What plans do you have for my sister?”

It was the best day of my life. I was surrounded by the people I loved; friends who had become family, and I was at peace with who I was and grateful for where I was.

Amaka came in her own car. We all saw her off. Before she left she reminded me never to talk about the video to anyone.

Rotimi decided to leave as well and for some reason I just assumed I was going with him, or that he wanted me to. He looked confused when I hugged Johnny and said goodbye.

“Just like that, doctor, you are taking my sister from me?”

“Johnny,” I said, about to explain something to him that even I hadn’t thought of or found the words for. But I can always count on Johnny to be there for me. He held the door open for me then as he closed it he tapped on the window. Rotimi pressed a button to roll it down.

“Doctor, if you hurt her, you’ll answer to me,” he said.