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Two Worlds - Season 1 - Episode 47
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Source: olaxali
The gateman approached with two cans of Legend. Beer. Richard did not drink beer.
“Bring something softer,” he told the gateman.

“Oga, na only dis ones dey inside fridge.”
He did a deep exhale and took a can of Legend. “Take the other. Use some money with you to buy something soft from one of the nearby shops. Be fast about it.”
“Okay.” He hurried to his cabin.
“I thought you didn’t take alcohol.” She gave him a half-look as he slugged the drink. Some of the foamy liquid dripped down his beard and fell to the lavenders.
“Sometimes one or two can do good. I’m not a complete teetotaller. I used to take little in the army days, but declined when I started business.” He emptied the can and dumped it on the ground. Some of the remnant liquid in it flowed out onto the ground.
“Why did you pick it up again?”
“Like I said, sometimes a little did good.”
There was no need asking what kind of good it did.

She examined the flowers pods. Some were opened and were already browned. “I should start picking some seeds.” She parted a sunflower’s drooped head open and picked out its seeds.
“I have some dry seeds at the garage. I think they are still viable.”
“Thanks. But these will do. Some of the plants are already dispersing seeds.
He picked some seeds from the due hibiscuses heads. “It’s good you came. You haven’t stepped a foot on this ground since you left.” He dropped the seeds in the polythene bag and threw hands to the rear of her head. He dug his hands into her cornrows and ran fingers through, bringing life to each of the rows. She could not tell him to stop. It was a hair rub, and that was not a bad thing. It was not a bad thing. It was not.


“How is your wife?” she asked, if that would remind him he had a wife.
“My wife is at the shop,” he muttered, and drew her head closer to his. He held it tightly with firm hands and brushed his lips with hers, wetted them and glued them to his. She could taste her own daiquiri gloss on his lips and savoured it for the moment, even though his breath smelled of beer. Sometimes, the beer actually did good. Blooming lavenders with perfect narrow leaves began budding in her head. They were alone in the world and it felt good to be alone, tasting the only juice the world could offer—a juice that wasn’t hers, but another woman’s. She struggled to get her head off. “What are you doing, Rick?”
“I kissed you.” Her reflection glowed in the black spot of his eyes.

“You’re married, Rick. You’re a married man.”
“You don’t have to remind me.”
“And you’re a Christian.”
“What do you know about Christianity?” His eyes did not move an inch from her.
“Enough to know that married Christian men don’t kiss other women than their wives.”
“Then you should also know that sometimes they face temptations and are not always strong enough to resist, and sometimes they have to balance both worlds and pray God forgives them.”
It was her fault. She should have gone to a flower shop. She knew this would happen. The voice that told her couldn’t be clearer.
She put some seeds in her bag and tied the bag. “I should be leaving. You’re drunk, Rick.”
“A can of beer is too small to get anyone drunk. I’m not drunk.”
It was the beer. Yes, it was the beer. She sprung up and stepped on a shrubby stalk. “I’m leaving.”
“What about your drink?”
She grabbed her bag. “Have it with your wife.”
She stalked to the gate and jammed the gateman, who was just outside the gate, holding a can of Malt.
“Madam, kini? wetin happen?” He helped open the gate from outside.

Not attending to the gateman, she continued her walk. Outside the compound, she touched her lips. Something had happened to them. Something not bad.

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