The Root Of Ruth (The Women I Love)
This is the story of me and Ruth. Not Ruth Abokoku, but Ruth the class captain.
I can’t overstate this, MB is the most beautiful girl I have ever met, Ruth comes a close second. If MB is Dark and Lovely, then Ruth is Dark and Shining.
Immediately the administrative assistant stepped out of the class, Ruth held my hand. Looking around, she dragged me to her seat and said “it seems you are the last student to register. I thought registration have even closed. There is no more vacant seat, so you’ll sit with me and my partner. Did you attend the junior school or did you transfer?”
She was talking non-stop. I had to put my hands on her shoulder and ask her to calm down.
Finally, we sat down. “My name is Carl. What is yours?” I began.
“Owww. Sorry I didn’t tell you my name at first. My name is Ruth”
“Ruth Abokoku” I retorted.
“Don’t ever call me that” she replied with a frown.
“Madam, calm down,” I said cheekily.
“And don’t call me madam too” she replied, still unsmiling.
“Okay then, sorry,” I said in a deflated mood.
“I’m just kidding” she replied as she burst into deep laughter.
Apparently Ruth had a great sense of humor. She was friendly, sociable and down for anything. Her only caveat is that you do not refer, imply nor address her as Ruth Abokoku.
By break time, I, Ruth, and her seatmate, Naomi (how appropriate) had gotten to know each other better. While Ruth and I were almost age-mates, (she is only eleven months older than I am. Not one year, eleven months.) Naomi was about four years older than me. And it was physically apparent.
To say Ruth and Naomi babied me would be an understatement. I was well catered for and treated like royalty. I have no doubt a couple of classmates were envious of the attention I was getting.
This were my first female friends since MB and Tinu. The balance of the relationship was different. Maybe because they saw me more like a younger brother and romantically unavailable, or because I was cute rather than handsome, or maybe they looked at me as a “project”. Either way, who am I to complain?
With their help, my note which was five weeks behind was updated by the end of my first week. Let me put that right. They wrote ninety percent of the note, I wrote only ten. With my aversion for note-taking and these girls by my side, life is good.
With two school mummies by my side, senior secondary school was about to be a stroll for me. Or…???