THIRTEEN

Someone dropped a note on my table. It was not a joke and whoever wrote that note was a huge fan of Bond- I mean double zero seven. I had never been that scared all of my life. Though I was fond of being the head-held-up-high-miss-independent, but trust me, I was not Miss Jolie.

Those sitting close to me in the library would have noticed how fidgety and clumsy I became. Whatever stopped me from bursting into tears after reading those words must have been from my father’s gene; the dude never said never.

I was too scared to leave the library, though I felt like a jerk for still sitting. Who would not have felt likewise? When the words on a sheet of paper left on the page I was reading from, before I went out to receive a call read thus: ‘‘Hey missy, we have been watching you for a long time, and you are the next on our list to clear out. Your time starts from now, and you only need to countdown to thirteen!’’

‘‘Clear out’’, I muttered endlessly, wondering what it meant, at least I was not a kind of lawn. As much as my head interpreted the phrase to mean ‘‘get killed’’, I continued to shake it off, not willing to believe that. Then ‘‘ thirteen ’’ was the fuel added to the fire. Was it thirteen seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, or years? Well, seconds was struck out of the list; because if it were to be it, then I should not still have been finding solace in fidgeting.

Minutes, became the next on the realizable list. I was trying to calculate the miserable minutes so far, wondering if it had summed up to thirteen . Then somewhere in my head I remembered reading something about thirteen being a bad omen. This was still playing in my head, when someone touched me.

The reason why I did not scream at that moment cannot still be explained till today. Well, my father’s gene might have been at work. But, sometimes I feel it was because the person talked almost immediately; probably, I would have screamed all the air in me out, if the speech had been held a bit longer.

The speech was uttered from the most adorable voice I had ever heard and it said; ‘‘did I scare you?’’

I was going to start asking for the person’s help, when to my amazement that person turned out to be no one but Contestant Thirteen .

I did not know what to feel at that moment; the commotion of feelings in my head was a huge challenge to Lagos’s early morning traffic. Who would have thought Contestant Thirteen would be there at that moment? But, why was he with me?

Why did he ask if I was scared? And why was he smiling, when he could see the misery on my face? Probably he was God-sent, and I had better ask him for help. But, I was mistaken.

‘‘I had the pleasure of feeding on your reactions the last thirteen minutes’’, he said.

‘‘What do you mean?’’ I asked, confused. Then he laughed.

‘‘Now you know how it feels…’’

‘‘How what feels?’’ I asked, getting ready to shout for help at any moment, because Contestant Thirteen was making me more uneasy.

Then he said; ‘‘calm down okay. I wrote the note. I was just playing pranks, didn’t know it will shake you to this degree. Oh my! You need to see your face’’. Then he started laughing. I felt like laughing too, but I

couldn’t; I was in a state of utter confusion.

‘‘Come on, let’s take a walk, people are beginning to stare; we’re disturbing them.’’

The thought in my head was; ‘‘this guy must be Oboh the Bomb, the ‘kpomo’ comedian. So, he expects me to walk leisurely into his trap’’.

Then I said; ‘‘ they might as well stare till the conversion of the Jews, I’m not going anywhere with you’’. I said this with a strong determination to raise an alarm.

This he clearly read on my face and quickly said; ‘‘okay, okay, fine. I can see you are still scared. Forgive me for playing pranks on you. But trust me, nothing in the world would make me hurt you. I only did that in retaliation’’.

‘‘Retaliation!’’ I exclaimed.

‘‘Yes, you dropped a note too remember? Though I didn’t see you drop it, but a friend did, and he pointed you out, when we walked in few hours ago…’’

Then I remembered. I was truly the first culprit and this time I could not help laughing, as past events unwrapped in my head…

* * * *

‘‘Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the thirteenth edition of Mr. and Miss Gallant.’’

The rouse of applause of applause was deafening. The Disc Jockey spinned into the air the latest mix and everybody was alive, just as the stage was.

More minutes went by, with the introduction of guests in the likes of models, designers, radio and TV personalities, beauticians, artists, telecommunication industries’ representatives and others whose jobs were their nicknames in their society. However, the judges-males and females- were all models; some cool, some weird, with about two of them getting me confused about their sex.

The performances of the contestants-males and females-kicked off with a dance. The ladies wriggled their waists and wrists to ‘‘KuchiKuchiHotaHai’’- I almost thought I was in Mumbai city of Maharashtra. Then the guys all forming macho with flags of different shades did some stunts; going backstage

And coming out with new steps.

That was when I saw him, with thirteen on the tag attached to his shorts. I could not get my eyes off him. I might have condemned someone else doing that, but there I was, admiring a figure- if not lusting

over him- that was the combination of Omar Borkan Al Gala and Taylor Lautner.

Every other event went by, from the swim wear parade to the questions session, presentation session, traditional attire segment and the dinner wear session of which in all, there would be no enough words to describe the scintillations of my newly found crush, Contestant Thirteen .

Finally, the screening came down to five on both sides- both the males and females-and there in his glory was still my favourite, who I was very sure would be the deserved winner of the night.

However, it was like the volcano in Pompeii, when Contestant One won Mr. Gallant. I and some other people in the hall, would not believe it. I could see with all clarity that he was himself troubled and confused. I felt so bad and did not care to wait for the winner of Miss Gallant, before I left the hall. Just that I heard that it was an undeserved person that won that too. The event was just a gallantry of lies.

Weeks went by, and events of more serious dispositions had taken place. I decided to use the library one cool afternoon, about the thirteenth hour of the day. After few hours, I decided to take a break and look around, then I saw him right there opposite me! Contestant Thirteen ! I wouldn’t miss him in China, and if he had been a needle in a haystack, I would have found him with pleasure. The event that was long forgotten ran afresh in my head. I felt so sorry for him, and I wanted so much to talk to him, but I resolved to write.

So, I picked my pen and wrote:

You were a sight to behold,

Your best to the end you did hold,

The judgment of theirs was a nil,

Your value at another shall be a kill.

You don’t struggle with your swag to be seen,

You’ll always be the bomb, Contestant Thirteen .

I wished so much for him to leave, so I could drop the note, and that he eventually did. It was a huge opportunity, and right there on the page he was reading from, I dropped the note and closed the book on it. I knew my reading for the day was over; the rest of the evening was in the assessment of the utter amazement that washed over him when he read the piece.

He did blush, yes he did! Then he was so restless and could not read anymore. While I was thriving in my secret agent mode, he packed his books and left. I did not mean to make him feel that way, I only wanted to appreciate him…

* ***

‘‘Oh my! It took me a while to remember, that was like thirteen months ago!’’ I couldn’t help laughing now, and didn’t care that almost everyone in the library was staring, but he did, so he pulled me out of my chair. While on our way out, I asked him how he had felt that day.

‘‘Well, deduct fear from the way you felt some minutes ago, that was how I felt. I was so anxious to know who dropped the note, but nobody’s face was saying anything, including yours. But fortunately, my friend who was on the adjacent table that day saw you and pointed you out today…’’

Yes! Today, and today it is that the dude who had chosen to scare me in return for me appreciating him, celebrates his thirteenth year of me being married to him, with me. Hence, it is as a result of that significant number- thirteen-that the events of which it has participated in our lives, come into our heads at this very moment, which is about the thirteenth hour of the day.

Though there is an evil attachment to this number, especially in the Western world, but as far as I’m concerned, it is the most adorable in all the zillions of the world. Oops, someone is at the door…

‘‘David, the cake has arrived!’’