Ọmọ Pastor: Let’s Talk (The Women I Love)
This is my one opportunity to talk to Rukevwe, I can’t let it slip.
Since she and her siblings came to my house with her mum, they haven’t come to visit again. In the church too, her siblings were always with her. Plus she is the pastor’s daughter, so talking to her there will draw a lot of attention.
I don’t know if she saw me and decided to walk away, or if it is my head imagining things, but I need to talk to her.
Weaving through the crowd, I tried following her. Considering how crowded this hall is, how is she walking this fast?
She finally stops just after stepping out of the hall. Finally, I caught up with her.
I get in front of her, and then I’m tongue-tied.
Hold on. What was it I wanted to tell her again? I said I needed to talk to her, what did I need to talk to her about?
Why did I chase her across the hall? I didn’t really think this through. What was I following her for?
Wait. I remember now. I wanted to ask her out.
But then, you don’t chase someone down to ask them out. Or maybe she didn’t notice me coming behind her.
Let me clear my head. Now that I’m in front of her, now that I have her attention, now that we can talk, what am I supposed to say?
I have never done this before. Are we not better off being friends first? What if she turns me down?
I am supposed to say something before she even turns me down. If I say the right thing, she won’t turn me down.
What should I say? The last girl I tried to ask out, despite that we were already friends, it didn’t end well for me. How much more someone I’m just talking to for the first time.
“Hi,”
“Hi,” I responded. Why didn’t I say something since? How long was I standing saying nothing? She spoke first. This couldn’t have started worse. I failed before I even started.
“Good afternoon,” she continued.
“Good afternoon,” I responded. What do I say now? I really should have said something. I am the one asking her out, it’s not the other way round. She would think I’m not sharp. What do I say next?
“You wanted to say something?”
“Emmm. No.” I replied.
“You didn’t follow me across the hall to say nothing.”
“I didn’t,” I responded. My head was empty. I have lost my mojo. Did I ever have a mojo, to begin with? Can you lose what you never had?
“Or you’ve forgotten what you wanted to say?”
“Actually, yes. I have forgotten.” I replied and she laughed in response.
“That is funny. You couldn’t have forgotten whatever it is you wanted to say. Not after following me through that crowded hall. If you actually forgot, you would have turned back earlier.”
Before I could respond, the rest of her schoolmates came filing out of the hall.
The teacher that chaperoned them stopped behind me and addressed Rukevwe.
“Rukevwe, the school bus is about leaving. You need to come if you are leaving with us.”
She collected her school bag from one of her schoolmates and began walking away. I had messed up my chance to talk with her.
As I turned around, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I turned around to find Rukevwe.
She took my palm, and using a pen, she wrote down her number.
“Call me when you remember what it is you wanted to talk to me about.”
With that, she turned around and strutted back to join her mates.
I stood rooted to the spot. I could see some boys, both from my school and other schools eye me. They must be jealous that I got the phone number of a girl this fine.
That was usually the target of every boy at these interschool events. Getting the phone number of girls, especially from other schools.
Realizing that I could lose the number to the sweat that was gathering on me at any instant, I quickly ran up to my class to get a pen and write this number in one of my notebooks.
Now I can properly think of the right lines to use to talk to Rukevwe.
Wilson Joshua is a Video Editor, Content Creator, and Creative Writer.
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