Short Story

SUSAN DIARY (Engulfed) By Ajayi Abiola

Written by Editor

Anchor: Hello viewers! Welcome to today’s episode of Susan’s diary…

The journey to Tunde’s room seem unnerving. Various thoughts flashed through my mind as I walked.

‘Should I do this? Is this worth it? Will it change his perspective about me? What if it doesn’t end well? But then, what if he feels the same way?’.

I am not one to wonder ‘what ifs’. I am not one to do nothing. I believe if I’d regret anything at all, it should be what I didn’t do, not what I did. I’d rather bear the consequences of my actions than wonder what could have happened if I’d not been brave enough to dare.

‘I can do this’, I thought to myself. I took a deep breath as I knocked on Tunde’s door. I almost changed my mind and bolted to freedom, which in this case is the comfort of my room or anywhere else as long as it doesn’t have Tunde in it.

‘Eeeermmm, who’s there?’, Tunde answered lazily, I could hear his footsteps from the other side as he shuffled towards the door.

‘It’s Susan’ I answered feebly, biting my finger nails. My palm is all sweaty from anxiety. I could swear I literally have cold feet.

Although mom doesn’t encourage us staying in the same room all alone, and we’ve always sticked to that rule, but that day was an exception.

Opening the door, Tunde pulled me into his room. Looking at him in the dim room light, the evening sun filtering through the sides of the curtains, he looked breathtaking. He must have been sleeping before I entered because I could see the bedspread lines on one side of his face. His face, God! That face is perfect, if I could just trace my finger along his sharp jawline and ….

‘Susan? ‘

I could hear his sonorous baritone even in my fairway la-la land of Tunde fantasy.

‘Uh!? What?’ I exclaimed, a bit destabilised as his voice jostled me back to reality.

‘Susan, what is it? He asked. ‘Are you having fever again?’ Worry coloured his voice as this spread a warm feeling all over my body. Tunde is worried about me! Me!

‘I’m fine’. I replied, brushing a stray stare of hair behind my head as we sat in his bed.

‘ This one you’re in my room today, I hope nothing is wrong ooo’

I looked into his eyes and nodded slightly. I tried commanding my tongue to speak, but it didn’t yield to my call.

‘Hey Susan, you said you wanted to see me’ he asked.

I looked at him with admiration, the way one would look at an adorable baby and within me, I knew I could never stop loving this young man.

‘Yes, Tunde’ I finally found my tongue, although the squeaky voice doesn’t quite sound like mine.

‘it’s now or never Susan, just rip off the plaster, you can do it. You’re a strong, independent woman’ I assured myself inwardly.

‘Errm, You see? Actually…’ I started stammering and uttering a torrent of gibberish, the words wouldn’t come out and I started sweating like a woman in travail.

Tunde looked at me, gave a reassuring smile that told me he was ready to listen.

‘I…am…I’m in love!’ I finally blurted. ‘Tunde! I think I’m in love, or do I just feel like I’m in love?..’ I prattled on.

‘Oh really!?, that’s it? You got me worried for a second. Thought you were pregnant or something ‘ he laughed.

‘This isn’t funny Tunde? why are you laughing ? I asked as I jumped up from the bed angrily.

‘Love is a beautiful thing, this love na for you and me, will you be my Juliet and I’ll be your Romeo, my love’ he sang off tune as he took my hands and pulled me back to the bed.

‘So tell me, who’s the lucky guy?’ he asked, after I stopped sulking.
Uh-oh, the lucky guy? Tunde just threw a punch in my face with this question. After his show of affection with the song earlier, I thought he had gotten the gist.

‘The lucky guy… well, He’s someone you
know’, I said robbing my eyes ‘I mean, he’s not someone you know, He’s just a random person’ I replied.

‘I would really love to meet your prince charming’, he said smiling. Every word, shattering the already broken pieces of my heart…

The moment I left Tunde’s room, I became highly dejected. I cried my eyes out because I felt so filthy… ‘How could Tunde not get the gist’, I wondered. ‘I’m sure he got the gist, he is just a bloody pretender’ I concluded.
I was full of fury and at the same time, confused… Can what I feel for Tunde be called love? How do I overcome all these?

Anchor: Thank you for staying with us❤
Let’s keep our comments rolling in…
ajayih.abiolar@gmail.com

#Storieswithinourwalls
#Susan’sdiary
#Connectingties
#Rebuildinghomes
#Engulfed

About the author

Editor

Bada Yusuf Amoo holds B.A in Literature in English from Obafemi Awolowo University, he is the publisher of thespeakingheart.com. He started the website in 2015, he has published both his works and other budding writers and poets on the website. He is a public commentators and his articles are on different websites.