Tèmítọ́pẹ́ Ọ̀jẹ́délé-Adéjùmọ̀

On that day, that evening, I finally got into a relaxed conversation with Beejay, after giving him a brief embarrassing moment with my stares, borne out of the aggravated crush I had nursed for him since I first saw him in that picture. It was several seconds after he said “Hi, I’m Beejay” with a handshake that had him almost yanking my right hand off my side that I was courteous enough to reply that I was Adetoun.

The way we both eased into series of conversations later that evening was typical of the deep-to-the-soul relief that comes after a menstrual cramp. We joked and laughed like we had known each other beyond that evening and even went on to mock the absurd looks on some of our cousins’ faces; who were actually wondering why Beejay, the ‘brand new’ relative in town was having a cool time with me of all the other cousins. It was not the first time I would be feeling such coldness, and I made it known to Beejay.

“Whose daughter are you?” He asked me, after forcing me to take a stroll with him down Osbourne Close.

“Grace Adegbayi.” I replied, using my mother’s maiden name, so it would be easier for him to place the family, but it made no sense to him still.

“Who are the Adegbayis?” He asked, making it obvious he had never heard of that branch of the family tree, pronouncing all four syllables on a rising tune that appalled and amused me at the same time; blooming Americanah!

“Well, we are quite many in this family and I don’t think I’m the right person to do a break down. Your dad might know better,” I said, with a coy smile.

“I know the Olaremis, the Kuyes, the Browns, and I think the Adeniro…”

“…Adeniran! ” I corrected him, causing the two of us some laughter.

“…Yeah, Adenirans, but I don’t think I’ve heard of the…” He looked at me to help him with my family name.

“Adegbayi,” I replied, not too comfortable about my family’s name being the only one left out of the fold.

I knew my mum’s immediate family were quite distant from the other four Beejay mentioned, but I could not really place the reason for the distance. It was the kind of distance that transcended beyond the arrangement, but also into the eyes and countenances of the other families that seemed very close enough. I referred to everyone from these families as cousins, but I really wasn’t sure about how the “cou” met the “sins”.

“My dad once told me that these families don’t love one another, but always find an excuse to throw a party.” Beejay intruded in my thought, as though he could hear it loudly and was trying to give me some kind of consolation.

His ‘consolation prize’ worked out fine, as I laughed at his witty statement in a way that echoed how right his dad was about the deep hypocrisy that runs in the fold; a laughter Beejay understood perfectly, as he stamped it with a dimpled smile.

Beejay would get to understand everything about me in a period of six months. Six months of exciting visits to cinemas, beaches, seminars, shows, malls, eateries, parks, book launches, conferences, galleries, various hangouts within the nooks and crannies of Lagos and a room in Ville Hotels, where Beejay gave me my first kissing experience in the most passionate way and said something about spending the rest of his life with me.