Our Little Secret
It was exactly three-fifty in the afternoon when they stepped out of the function hall. Kevwe was outside already, standing beside the car that was decorated ‘Newly Married’, waiting for them. Lawrence had only two colours on him, black and white: black suit, white shirt on black bow tie—it’s black, that is, if you ever wonder what colour of trousers and shoes he wore. Modupe had changed from the traditional white, which she wore earlier, to a long, well-fitting silver dress. Kevwe had a bright grin as he held open the door to the back seat of the 2016 Honda Pilot. Lawrence, who had been slightly ahead of his bride, allowed Modupe to go in first—one would easily assume that Lawrence was trying to adhere to the chivalrous custom, ladies first; maybe, an attempt at being a gentleman: no! both options are wrong—for he desired a moment with his best friend. Sadly, that best friend, for he was married, could not be his best man.
“Thanks, man,” Lawrence said as both men had a handshake. Kevwe was not expecting what followed the handshake: a gentle pull that climaxed in a brief hug. Truly, the hug had an awkward feel; it also left them slightly embarrassed—though, to be sincere, its awkwardness had nothing to do with the unwritten guy code, which limits such closeness. They both knew that if they were to be judged from afar, one would think that Kevwe had resisted the hug. To be fair on Kevwe: he had spotted his wife and son as they exited the reception hall, and in that instant he had been distracted; yes, he was only trying to get his wife’s attention.
“Sorry, a moment, please,” Kevwe said. Lawrence freed his friend’s hand from his grip. “Ese!” Kevwe called out to his wife. He had to raised his voice as a sizeable number of people had exited the hall too. Though a careful look would reveal that most of the youngsters were still in the hall, dancing to the back-to-back upbeat tempo, beatmatched by the DJ. Kevwe’s four year old son spotted him first. And it was no surprise that he reached his father before his mother did.
At the other side of the car, a small group had gathered, providing good company for the bride.
“How are you, Justin?” Lawrence asked.
“Fine,” Justin replied, then he offered a broad smile. “I like your suit. And your tie too.”
“Thank you,” Lawrence said, gently adjusting the collar of the little boy’s shirt. “Hey, Ese.” He reached out to hug her.
“Let’s go dude,” Kevwe, who had insisted on driving the couple, said. He had noticed a group that seemed to be advancing towards them, and he assumed that the couple could do without those ‘small talks’. Moreover, Kevwe had promised that the car would be returned to its owner in one piece, and on time too.
“Ese, please I want to ask for a favour,” Lawrence said quickly.
“With all pleasure.”
Ese chuckled. “Promise.”
“Thanks. Please, do find a way to say thank you to my good friend. He has really been there for me—a great adviser.” Lawrence had briefly taken his eyes from Ese, to Kevwe, when he said the last three words.
Ese smiled. “Don’t worry. I will do anything—for the great advicer,” she said.
“Let’s go!” Kevwe repeated. This time, he took the lead, walking towards the door that granted direct entrance to the driver’s seat.
“Thank you,” Lawrence said.
Immediately Lawrence took his seat, beside his wife, the engine of the car came to life. Kevwe only allowed a brief moment for some more teasings, pleasantries and blessings from those who stood on either side before he advanced the car towards the open gate.
Moments after the car had joined the Saturday traffic on Opebi road, Kevwe’s phone indicated a new text message. The ring tone he heard had been assigned specially for his wife. He tapped twice on the screen of his mobile phone: first on menu, and next on the message reader application. There was an active Bluetooth device hanging on his left ear. The message read:
A special treat awaits you at home, in our bedroom. Hurry while the offer lasts!
Ese walked into the room in a pink see-through nightgown. The white panties she had on was the only item of clothing underneath. On the bed where he laid, Kevwe smiled. Though the thrill of seeing his wife’s nakedness had waned with time, still it did not deny him the natural response typical of a heterosexual male.
“I wonder what Lawrence and Modupe are up to right now,” Ese said as she joined her husband in bed. Her lips was almost touching his ear when she had said those words.
“Well, I’ve been friends with Lawrence for a while. I think I have an idea what the dude is old and bad enough to do.”
“Really?” she said, her lips even closer to his ear. “Tell me.”
“Wouldn’t you prefer if I showed you?”
“You can? Please, show me—all of it!”
“Here we go!” Kevwe said, pulling her close. Then he took a position above her. Ese spread her arms and legs as Kevwe unbuttoned the nightgown. As he pulled down her panties, Kevwe noticed a little piece of paper the panties had concealed. Kevwe’s heart skipped a beat. Kevwe remembered the last time Ese had done such, about five years ago. Back then she had written: I’M PREGNANT.
Ese laughed softly. “Hey, I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you are thinking. That method is so—five years ago. Trust me, when I get pregnant again I will find some other way to tell you.” Kevwe stared at her face as she spoke. Her eyes had been closed while she spoke. He smiled at her beauty.
Kevwe opened the paper. It read:
Lawrence had winked at you when he gave you the title, great adviser! Explain.