An ‘I told you so’ for Your Birthday

The story of a broke man who defies all odds to surprise the last girl who served him breakfast — from Joshua Pregbaha

Sola

It takes a lot to amaze me, so I have mad respect for this Tony guy.

One day, out of the blue, this rando sent me a message on Facebook asking me if I knew where my friend, Chidinma, lived. It’s the audacity for me. He went ahead to beg me to give him a chance to explain. Scammers don’t do that, right?

He said that he knew her in Lagos where they were friends for months and they stopped talking when she moved here a few months ago, but he’s in love with her and he misses her and he wants to convince her to give him a chance. He said she’d mentioned me and he scrolled through her friends list to find me. Then he sent me pictures of both of them smiling and having fun.

I can’t lie, I was intrigued, but I knew I still had to be careful. I asked if I could ask her about him and he said yes, but he’d appreciate it if I did it discreetly because he wants to send her a package for her birthday and he wants it to be a surprise.

The cupid in me tingled and fluttered its wings. I walked over to the kitchen where Chidinma was making our dinner and I told her that I was scrolling through her profile when I saw a name on her friend list that I didn’t recognize–Tony Uba. Immediately I mentioned the name, she tried her best but she couldn’t hide the blush.

“He’s no one,” she said.

Yeah, right, I thought to myself then I went back to my phone. I gave him the address and my number so that the delivery man could call me since we live together. I also gave him a list of all her likes and dislikes just so he doesn’t mess up.

All that was three days ago. It’s her birthday today and I’ve been excited since I woke up. I’ve successfully guided the delivery man to the house and he’s knocking on the door now. I tell Chidinma not to worry because I’ll get it.

When I open the door, I’m taken aback at first. I squint then my eyes fly open, then my nostrils and then my mouth. I chuckle before I yell, “CHIDINMA!”

Tony

Most people laugh at me when I say I love to trek and others laugh with me because they think I’m joking. They all laugh for the same reason–they think I’m just using that statement to save face when, in reality, I trek so much because I’m broke.

I trek because I want to die only after I’ve celebrated my one hundred and fiftieth birthday and I still want to be strong and healthy when I get there.

I can’t say they are entirely wrong, though. Money and I are indeed going through a bit of a rough patch in our relationship. It has been especially hard since my father died and I had to pay for the funeral and increase the monthly allowance I send back to my mum and my sisters.

It’s only people in Lagos that laugh at me. People back home think that because I live in Lagos, I’ve made it big. I’ve tried to remind them that I’m only a barber’s apprentice but that just falls on deaf ears. Sometimes I wish they’d laugh at me too. Maybe then I’d have some more money for myself.

The one person who I thank God doesn’t laugh at me, though, is Chidinma.

I’ll never forget the day we met. It was a horrible day. The sun was bright and scalding hot, and there was no power. We hadn’t had any customers all day so we couldn’t put on the generator. My head was banging. I asked my boss if he had any painkillers and he said he didn’t, but he saw a pharmacy that had just opened up when he was coming and he gave me the directions so I picked my trusty legs and trekked.

I had my hand over my eyes to shield them so I didn’t see her until I walked into the little pharmacy and dropped my hand. Chidinma my painkiller, that’s what I call her because immediately my eyes adjusted and she came into focus, my headache disappeared.

“Hello,” she smiled at me.

All the words in my vocabulary disappeared. My mouth had disappointed me but my legs would never. I walked to the counter and placed my hands on it too. I’m not certain what my mouth was doing but I think I was smiling.

“Are you okay?” she asked, still smiling.

After a few seconds, I replied, “Hi”

She started laughing. I didn’t know why but her laughter was infectious so I joined her.

“What can I get for you?”

Whenever she tells this story, she says she’s sure that it was the fairness of her skin that confused me and I agree that because I can’t explain any other way how the next words out of my mouth were “Vitamin C– the yellow one”

That became our inside joke. As time went on, I went more frequently until I was going to see her twice a day–once before work and again during my lunch break. Her smile is the most beautiful sight ever and I love being the cause of it so every time I see her, I make it my mission to make her smile at least once before I leave.

It’s been three months since I saw that smile for the first time and today, I’ve gathered up enough courage to ask her to be my girlfriend, but first, I’m going to make her smile.

I try, hard, but I get nothing. I mean, she has smiled, but it’s different. I can tell something’s wrong so I ask.

Her eyes start to water as she tells me how her friend, Sola, had sent a job application to the company she works with in Abeokuta. The job was too good to be true and she was underqualified but she applied anyway. They called her this morning. She got the job.

I don’t know what to say. This is good news, so why are her eyes watering?

She looks me in the eyes and I don’t know how but she can read my mind. She knows why I’m here. She tells me how, because of a previous experience, she didn’t think that trying a long-distance relationship would be worth it for either of us.

“Abeokuta?” I ask.

“Yes”

“That’s not– that’s not long distance now… I can trek it,” I say, unsure of the words coming out of my mouth.

She chuckles when I say it and pulls me into a hug with tears streaming down her face.

Chidinma

Since I moved to Abeokuta, I’ve tried my best to forget Tony. When it wasn’t working, I gave up and tried to, at least, push him away from the forefront. After a few months, it worked. I still thought about him a lot but at least it wasn’t constant. Ever since Sola mentioned his name, he’s right back to first position. I’ve been hoping he’d text me today, you know, to wish me a happy birthday. Maybe he forgot. Maybe he’s afraid because I told him that it’s better if we don’t speak anymore. Maybe I should text him and remind him that it’s my birth–

“CHIDINMA!”

I roll my eyes when I hear Sola yell my name and interrupt my thoughts. I guess it’s finally time to find out why this girl has been smiling sheepishly at me since morning.

She looks like she’s in shock when I see her. She’s standing behind the door with her brows close to her hairline and her mouth open. She’s gesturing for me to come and see what’s on the other side.

When I get there, I’m confused. All I see is a man with a heavy backpack, covered in sweat and dust.

Then I squint.

Then I scream.

Then I jump on him and squeeze.

I feel his heart beat quickly against my chest matching the tempo of mine, and his heavy, warm breath on my neck.

He whispers into my ear, “I told you I could trek it”

Joshua Pregbaha is a cute Nigerian weirdo who loves Jesus, yoghurt and basketball. He believes that, much like The Proclaimers or Tony, he would walk 500 miles (and 500 more) for love. You can see more of is work at a-cute-weirdo and connect with him on Twitter @JPregbaha.