That night, I dreamed of Daniel. In the dream, we were in a swanky restaurant, eating oysters and drinking chilled champagne from long stemmed flutes, with a violinist playing a rendition of Celine Dion’s ‘My heart will go on’. I thoroughly enjoyed myself in the dream.
It was when I woke up in the middle of the night that I realized I’ve got it bad for Daniel. The dream was the last nail in the coffin. After tossing and turning for another twenty minutes with more sleep nowhere on the horizon, I got up and wandered to the kitchen.
I got out a bottle of coke from the fridge, opened the cap and took a long, satisfying swallow. I really should give up this soda drink called Coca-Cola, but it’s oh, so addictive.
After that intake of caffeine, I knew I wasn’t going to sleep anymore, so instead of daydreaming about what I couldn’t have, I decided to get some work done. I switched on my laptop and started browsing for some lovely designs I could use on the job.
After about an hour, I had accumulated some I found promising and my eyes were starting to dim. It was a little after 5 a.m. and I could still catch some much needed sleep. I needed to be sharp and on point for the meeting I have with Daniel at 9 a.m.
I dragged myself to my bed and crawled under the covers. Few seconds later, I was out cold. Oh, blissful slumber!
I didn’t feel so blissful when I woke up three hours later. I checked my bedside clock and saw it was a good twenty minutes after eight. I jumped up as if someone lit a fire beneath me. No, no, no, this is not happening again, I groaned.
I ran into the bathroom, almost tore my nightie off me in my hurry, and hopped into the shower. It was the fastest bath of my life.
I quickly dressed up in a flowered free flowing gown, belted it at the waist to give it a bit of definition and style, and I put on a pair of black low-heeled sandals. By then, it was eight thirty. I grabbed my car keys, praying frantically that there won’t be any horrendous traffic to deal with on the way. I barely had enough time to get there as it is. And to say that I had planned this so well; oh, you know what they say about the best laid plans.
Exactly thirty minutes later, I pulled into the car park. I clutched my bag and the folder I needed for the meeting and got out of the car. The car park was some distance from the office complex, so I had to run the rest of the way. I was in great shape, I wasn’t breathing too hard when I got to the receptionist.
“Hi.” I breathed fast. “I’m here for a 9’0 clock meeting with Mr. Daniel Omalu.” I smiled.
The lady just stood there, staring at me with an incredulous look on her face, her mouth wide open. I wondered what her problem was. Was I speaking French?
“Miss Ella Bendel to see Mr. Daniel Omalu, please.” I repeated.
She finally closed her mouth and found her tongue. “Mad….am,” she stammered, “Your hair…your fa…ce…you look a fright.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked. I turned to the glassed wall and checked my reflection. It was then I noticed my hair and face. I had not remembered to apply any make-up on my face, but that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was I still had the hair cap I slept with snugly placed on my head. No make-up, no earrings, and a head full of uncombed hair. I stared at myself in horror. Oh, for the love of God!
Damage control was needed. “Do you have a comb, please?” I asked the receptionist.
She shook her head in the negative.
“Nothing to salvage this?” I indicated the whole of my head.
“I’m sorry.” She said.
“It’s not your fault.” I answered her. “Oh well, I’ll just have to brave it.”
She looked at me with such pity, I almost laughed. I can’t wait to see the look on Daniel’s face. On the other hand, I’d rather be anywhere but here.
I faced the elevator as someone going to the gallows. I pushed the button and entered when it opened. I was the only one in and it felt as if I was facing the firing squad.
Story by Maggie smart