Coincidences

Leonard Winter...I met Daryl Gilbert while we were undergraduate students. I can't remember vividly how we met, but we became very close friends afterward. It was 2009.

Facebook had just been launched, and its noise was in the air everywhere you went. It was a remarkable breakthrough for any web and mobile application at the time. I later joined Facebook in April 2011. As it was, Facebook was initially designed to help friends and loved ones keep in touch and make new friends from all over the world. In less than two years, Facebook became a household name amongst everyone alive. In 2004, I left high school; it was almost impossible to reconnect with old classmates and childhood friends. That year, we had our graduation send forth, but I stayed at home that very day. The reason was that I didn't prepare myself to attend the ceremony. I didn't get a new outfit to wear. I felt it was going to be an extra financial burden on my parents, So I played the mortal kombat ultimate video game throughout that day.

Being absent at the send-forth meant I wasn't going to have the opportunity at least to exchange contacts with my classmates. Six years later, Facebook made that reconnect a reality. Over eighty percent of my classmates were on Facebook as long as I could remember their names. I also added Daryl to my friends list. As usual, profile checking was the thing to do when a new friend is added, or a new friend request is accepted. At least you want to know the history of your new friend or acquaintance. So, Daryl's profile read Leonard Winter high school, St. James metropolis.

Well, his high school was in the St. James metropolis. I just forgot about it (forgot? Not the name of the school anyway) because I never dreamt of coming in contact with the school, and neither do I have intentions or plans of going to St. James at any time. I had been raised in a local community in Mona's harbor. I did all my schooling in Mona's harbor. We had graduated from college eight years after. I was preparing for my wedding. In fact, the wedding date has been fixed, and my younger brother is supposed to be my best man. We were looking for accommodation to give us shelter from Wednesday night to the evening of the wedding day.

Nobody was coming to mind. I remembered I could at least contact my former set mate, Leslie Ashkel. He had been with us in the same college but in the faculty of sciences. As a result of transportation costs, I had chosen him as a substitute for my best man. In the cause of our conversation for the wedding preparation, he had said he resided in Dennis Melford boulevard, St. James metropolis. Well, I'm not a St. Jamesian. I didn't grow up there. But, my fiancée had said Leslie was our best option to accommodate us. I had contacted him earlier on concerning the need at hand. He agreed to be of help.

We boarded different transit buses from Mona's harbor and Gilmont city, respectively, with my younger brother and me. We met at Brad's town around 07:38 pm on Tuesday. My fiancée would later catch up with us. My phone battery was almost flat. The journey from Gilmont city to St.James metropolis lasted almost ten hours. On getting to Brad's town, I had called Leslie severally, and he wasn't picking up his calls. I got frustrated, and I thought maybe he didn't want us to come to his house. He later picked me up and told me to start coming. At that time, my fiancée had joined us. Together, we set out to go to Leslie's house.

We got to Leslie's residence at about 08:27 pm. He wasn't back from work. We sat outside the premises of his residence. It was a three-story building with blocks of two-bedroom flats on each floor. We were there for the first time, So it was difficult to locate his apartment. All the descriptions we made of the children we saw on the premises; could not match the person we were looking for. We became confused; it seemed we had gotten to the wrong place. Nevertheless, the address he had earlier sent bore a resemblance to the residence of a friend of my fiancée's. She said she had been here before. The wife of this friend of hers had just delivered a baby girl a couple of months ago. I had requested we go and see them while we waited for Leslie's return. She objected, stating that the friend was out of the city for a job and that the wife wasn't acquainted with her.

It was the most stressful journey I had embarked on all my life. I was so exhausted. I wished I was at home at that time. I had access to a comfortable bedroom, a water closet, and food at my disposal. I could eat whatever I could lay my hands on. Here I am, so famished, having an understanding that I won't get the comfort I needed that weekend. Well, these are things we do for love. Our wedding had been slated for that Saturday. Beside me was my younger brother, Shane. I could see the rage on his face and shoulders; I saw arrogance and pride. He had been brought up with a silver spoon. Too much comfort, I thought. We discussed the neighborhood and what we had seen. How people brag about what they are and what they have. Hearing them speak, you'd think they live in a paradise like they were living in heaven on earth.

Here comes the man we have been waiting for, brother Leslie. He was an average-height man in his early thirties. Round head, plump, and a face like that of a buffoon. We exchanged pleasantries, and a brief introduction of my company was made. "Welcome, Sir," I said. "This is my fiancée, Katy Hanks, and my younger brother, Shane Bishop. Guys, this is brother Leslie." He responded with a handshake with Shane. We went upstairs to his apartment as he led the way. The environment was

unkempt. As we walked up the stairs, on their veranda, I saw children's clothes that looked like rags hanging on a rope line, tensioned on two nails that were fastened to a wall.

Finally, we got to the door that led inside the house. It was secured with old-fashioned burglary proof. One he had mastered how to open (Same I found difficult to lock the next day). We got into the house, and a short corridor from the entrance led to the sitting room. Before the sitting room, on the left was a toilet and bathroom. Mehn! The house was untidy (poultry wasn't as untidy as it was).

The curtains were very dirty like they'd never been washed in the last six years. Towards the window facing the opposite street was a bookshelf with all the books unarranged. The cushion in the sitting room was so moist, like it had been a combination of dust and sweat percolating into it over the years. I tell you, there was no trace of ambiance or aesthetics in the house.

My God, how can somebody be this careless (do I say carefree?), I thought. I wasn't much of a fashionable person, but I couldn't be this indolent to allow my apartment to become very unkempt to this point. Well, we've gotten to know where we will be spending the next three days till after my wedding day. It was time for my fiancée to leave for her parent's house in the other part of the city. She thanked Leslie for accommodating us. We all stood up and left. It was about 09:28 pm now. We had taken the tailgate as we walked my fiancée to

the major road. While we walked, my fiancée and Leslie dominated the conversation (maybe because they had both been raised up in St. James Metropolis. I felt bad or may be jealous. This woman was going to be my wife); they should have also carried myself and my brother along. It was late that night. So, we couldn't get a clear view of the street while we took that walk. We were to leave for Albert's town in the afternoon the next day. We had to know where to get a bus that would take us to our destination. Early the next morning, I decided to take a walk from the head gate down the street. It was a long walk. I hadn't taken any meal for breakfast.

On both sides of the road were lock-up shops (many of which the owners were yet to open for business). At other points on the road were women selling fried plantain cakes, and some were selling yam and potatoes. Vehicles started plying the road with heavy traffic as the day broke more. As I continued walking, I felt I should turn back and find my way back home. But, I walked on since I had a goal to know where that road terminated. There were vehicles coming from a sharp bend ahead of me. I had thought that maybe the road had ended there and then, a commencement of a differently new road. No, it was a continuation of the same road I had started my walk initially (this, I got to know as I approached the bend). I continued walking, observing the neighborhoods as I got passed each building. The keen eyes of onlookers as if they had seen a foreigner.

While I looked onward and forward to reach my destination, there was a building with protruding fence, and the gate was not in view immediately. As I approached the end of the fence, I managed to look at the gate; behold, it was Leonard Winter High School. Waw! This must be the high school Daryl attended. Truly, I was this excited! Who would have thought on a day like this, I'll get to see and be at where Leonard Winter was located? "This life," I said to myself. What a coincidence! I should have taken a selfie as evidence Daryl should see. I got to the end of the road. Its exit was leading back to the expressway at the rear and in front was the bus stop we had alighted the previous night.

4
191
View all 4 likes
support@nairapen.com
+14047026965
.

Create An Ad Like Th...

Give your skills and business more visibility with NairaPen Ads. We'll...

View details
Dr Abiodun Anifow...

You may also like

Exports (chapter Two)

A continuation of this fascinating tale...The rooms smelled of danger, there were no physi...

1656625659.jpg
Oscar Okparaji
1 year ago

The Four W’s To A Success...

We have here a strong community of writers, are you thinking Of ways to monetize your writ...

1653942952.jpeg
Oshiogwemo Syntyc...
2 years ago

Finding A Place (chapter...

We had our first calc exam on Monday. I didn't have any problem with it. After class, Shei...

1654946831.jpg
Aribisala Emmanue...
2 years ago

Allgeric To Gravity-pots

An article that explains Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome(POTS).

1650504237.webp
Ayinkè The Author
2 years ago

Facebook Crush.

It's social media love. Surprise, looking at my phone screen, thinking, who's that girl, a...

1653317034.jpg
Garba Sidi
2 years ago
Comments (0)

There are currently no comments for this article. Be the first to comment.

Support this Writer
Secured Payment in Dollars

$