The Wait

Sade walked into the serene lounge of Ocean Bay restaurant, glad to be out of the hustle and bustle of the Lagos evening traffic. She was here for her weekly dinner date with Tamuno. It had become a ritual — something they did regularly ever since they met a year ago at her Sade sister’s wedding. Tamuno had been the best man and she the chief bridesmaid.

Sade made a quick scan of the dining area and decided on a table for two by one of the windows which overlooked the sea. They had decided on this place after reading all the great reviews on Google. The picturesque building and the lovely African paintings which hung from most of its walls gave it an ethnic ambience, while the scented candles placed on each table made it appear cosy and romantic.

She sat on one of the seats to wait for Tamuno and soon became lost in her thoughts. A smile flashed across her face as she remembered the first time she laid eyes on him. He had looked so handsome and dapper in his grey suit, that she had secretly thought he looked better than the groom. She had caught him stealing glances at her during the church service, and she had responded with coy smiles.

They had become inseparable after that day and spent long hours chatting on the phone like old friends. She officially agreed to date him after a few months even though they had been spending most of their time together. She found his calm laid-back demeanour attractive and a good match for her fiery personality.   

“Excuse me madam. Would you like to order anything?” 

A voice jolted her from her reverie. She looked up to find a stocky waiter, with a smile that appeared forced, standing by her table.

“Yes, please. Can I get a glass of Chapman for now? I am waiting for my date,” she replied.

Glancing at her watch, she realised he was already thirty minutes late. Where the hell was Tamuno? She wondered.  She could hear her stomach growling in hunger.

“Okay madam,” he replied. “I’ll just leave the menu here on the table. Let me know when you are ready to order anything else,” he continued.

“Okay, thanks,” she mumbled as he left.

She checked her watch a second time; more than an hour had passed. He knew she did not like being kept waiting, so why had he not called her to say he would be late?

She called him twice, but only got his voice mail. A queasy feeling had started forming in her gut. She let another hour pass before she walked out to the balcony to call his best friend.

“Hi Jide, have you spoken to Tamuno recently?” She asked.

“No. I thought you guys had that your weekly dinner thing?” He replied.

“Yeah, but he has not shown up yet,” she said anxiously. “It is unlike him not to call if he is running late. I even tried his cell, but it went straight to voice mail.”

“Don’t worry Sade; I am sure he is fine. He probably got held up and maybe his phone died. You know these things happen sometimes,” Jide said in a reassuring tone.

She knew he was only trying to allay her worries.

“Okay o. Hope he is not out chasing another babe while I am here disturbing myself,” she joked.

“Haba! Sade, which babe? You are more than enough for my friend,” Jide laughed.

“Anyway, please let me know if you hear from him,” she said.

“I definitely will,” he replied and hung up. 

She tried his number again and grimaced when she heard the all too familiar tone of his voice mail. She had to resist the urge to call his mother. There was no point getting the old woman agitated. Swatting the mosquito that had been buzzing around her ears, she walked back into the already empty dining area and gestured to the waiter that had attended to her earlier.

“Please can I get the bill?”

She ignored the puzzled look on his face and turned her attention to one of the television screens on the wall. A news flash came in just then, and she watched as an excited reporter spoke hastily. It was the scene of a ghastly car crash on Carter Bridge only a few kilometres from the restaurant.

She heard the reporter narrate how the accident had taken place two hours ago after the car had skidded off a pothole on high speed, smashing into the metal rails of the bridge. She watched as the camera zoomed in on the scene of the crash, a loud shriek escaping her lungs as she recognised the shiny blue paint and distinctive registration plate of Tamuno’s car.