The chill in the restaurant I find myself waiting for Ola is nothing compared to the chill my heart registers towards him. It is however, enough to make me wish I wore a jacket over the pretty, sleeveless dress he gave me as a gift on my last birthday. Another glance at my wrist reveals again, that I am not wearing a watch. Thus, I am once again, redirected to my phone where I see that only two minutes have passed since I last checked. Strangely, this discovery, rather than calm me, unleashes the anger which seconds ago merely bubbled underneath. My frown deepens, my fake fingernails tap hurriedly, unrhythmically against the glass table, my lips are a straight, blood-red line, my gaze on the restaurant's glass doors is unflinching.
I lift my gaze from the door and look around the restaurant where I have spent a little less than 10 minutes, to check if anyone else is witnessing my moment of rage. I notice that of the over twenty people here, no one is. Apparently, people here are more interested in their food, and/or dates, than in a lone, furious, albeit quite comely lady. How annoying! Ridiculously, this incites my anger. Another quick glance at my wrist...
Sighing impatiently, I return my gaze to the door. Unlike most females, I really do not mind being kept waiting for some minutes. However, my patience is unusually very thin today; I can not fathom why. Delicatetly, I finger the ring Ola gave me weeks ago on bended knee and consider returning it to him. Just then, as if summoned by the ring, I see him purposefully making his way towards the restaurant.
Where is his car? I wonder.
As he enters, his scent reaches me before he does, replacing the chill in my heart with a warm rush of love. He gets to the table, gives me the usual forehead kiss and launches into an explanation. I don't listen. Oddly, I focus on rekindling my anger.
"Are you going to continue apologising, or are we going to eat?"
His stung look pierces my heart. My eyes remain cold however.
"I'm sorry" he says, picking up the menu. "By the way, you look absolutely gorgeous; you make the dress look more beautiful. His grin is reaching both ears. "So what are you having?"
"I'm not hungry"
He calmly places the menu on the table. He is not grinning now.
"Becky, is this about the delay? I apologized-"
"Oh! And the anger is supposed to magically disappear because 'you apologized'?"
"- and explained to you. And no, that shouldn't 'disappear' your anger, but it should calm you a lit-”
"Ola, this is my calm -"
"This is not your calm, Rebecca. This is not even you. I apologised, did I not? Fine! I am deeply sorry I was fifteen minutes late, even though on several occasions, you have kept me waiting for much longer".
Silence. Then, "Baby, I am sorry for losing it. What can I do to make things right again?"
I stare at him. I have a lot to say. First, he is wrong; his lateness was by twelve minutes, not fifteen. Then, how dare he bring up the past? How dare he recount to me my past offences? I don't say any of these though. I only reply his last question.
"Go to hell".
A voice of reason tells me I am being unreasonable and unnecessarily difficult; I should take back what I said and apologise immediately. I do neither.
He picks the menu again. "It's a long way to hell, I might as well eat first".
I pick my bag. "Perfect. I'm leaving". His head is bent.
"I'm leaving", I repeat. He doesn't look up. He is still looking at the menu when I leave.
I have almost completed the long walk to the door when I remember that my dear fiancé arrived here on foot, and I am about to leave with my car. Forgetting my initial anger, I turn back immediately nd bump into a huge wall of chest- his.
What the..?!
My astonishment is turned to bewilderment when he hurriedly removes his already unbuttoned shirt and ties it around my waist, whispering urgently, "Your period...you are on! ".
"I am not!", for the umpteenth time that day, I speak without thinking.
"Except you had that part of your dress dyed blood red, you are honey".
Ignoring his sarcasm, I quickly check- to confirm that this is not one of his silly pranks. When I feel the tell tale dampness, a sharp gasp escapes my lips; my eyes g wide with shock.
"Let's go", Ola says, taking my hand. Dazed and confused, I allow myself to be led.
I feel the stares on our back as we leave.
Outside, still stunned, I have an overwhelming urge to cry, but I restrain myself. I figure I have caused us enough embarrassment. He senses my unease and gently squeezes my hand. This is all I need.
The tears come with a force that abruptly halts my zombie-like walk. Ola, surprised by the tears, pulls me to himself and coos comforting words into my hair. In between sobs, I try to explain...
“I've never been so embarrassed in my whole liiife!” Hiccup. “How could I have been so careless?!!” Hiccup. “I didn't even know the stuff was coming ooout!!!” Prolonged wail.
Ola tries to console me. Since I went through a lot of stress the previous month, the period came earlier than it should have, he reasons. Also, the stain is not so bad, people did not even notice.
I hear the smile in his voice; I know he is lying through his teeth. Finally, the tears subside and I raise my head.
Do you want to go another round?, he asks me.
I shake my head no. I notice the impression of my make-up on his T-shirt, he does too. It’s not so bad I tell him, people will not even notice. Smiling, he shakes his head. We both know the tears are actually part of my 'period drama'- as he not-so-fondly calls it- and we have been through several crying spells before now, but he says nothing. He tenderly wipes my face with the shirttail hanging from my waist.
"Congratulations", he says "you ruined my T-shirt, my shirt and this lovely dress all in one day. We should drink to this". I ignore him.
We get to the car. He gives me the usual forehead kiss, says he is leaving. I ask where to. To hell, you sent me there earlier, remember? he teases.
Indeed, I remember- my unusual impatience, my irrational anger, my terrible, my overall (s)assiness. At some point, I even considered returning his ring! How could I have been that way to my Ola? Although, now I know that all of that was mere 'period drama', this realisation does not stop the pain that tightens my chest and threatens to choke me.
Lips trembling, tears welling in my eyes, I clasp my hands and try to steady my shaky voice.
"Olaolu, I am so sorry. For everything".My voice shakes still, despite my efforts.
Seeing the warning signs of another uncontrollable outburst,Ola is shaking his head pleadingly.
"No, baby don't... It's fine. I was kidding, I'm here. Forever and alw-”
The tears come again, in torrents. This time, it is more emotions than hormones.
I think.