I dashed through the door of Michigan airport, scanned for free seats and picked up one, the foremost bench on a row of three; directly opposite the counter of the flight attendant. There I dragged my luggage and perched.
I flashed my left wrist at eyesight and reckoned that I was an hour early, so I did what I loved best...
Most couples walking into the airport were worlds apart with sullen looks, hardly matching dress - rainbow colours, and easy to note - equal share of luggage responsibility or best; Carry your luggage! - no gentleman gestures attached.
Some minutes later, a magical couple walked in, the atmosphere was charged. The male was Hispanic with an infectious smile while the female was African - ebony - with a perfect Coca-Cola sculpt body with both on Ankara fabric, locked hands and equal paced like a military parade standard.
Then, it echoed in my heart, - "An African is capable of anything!" - so I placed my ticket on my chest and clutched it tenderly as I reminisced...
****
"On getting to the American museum - popularly called T. Roosevelt museum - the venue for our PHD class, I quickly stood in front of the glass door, rubbed my lips together, adjusted my cream coloured gown at both side of my hips and rushed in.
At John D. Rockefeller's archives; the crowd was familiar, so I searched for my girls - Natasha and Anastasia - and I spotted them.
They were engrossed with a particular black guide with easy giggling and flirtation but I was disgusted at their taste.
So I texted Anastasia, she got the text and her face bloomed. So she whispered to Natasha and they waved towards me with girlish aplomb. Then it happened, the black guide flashed his gaze towards me, held mine for a while with a flawless grin and looked away.
I melted on the spot and couldn't help but fantasized about us together throughout the class. At the end of the class, my girls came over and we chatted.
Then, he walked towards us, waved at Natasha and Anastasia and left the museum. I was lost in thoughts, as I stared at him.
"Rose!!!" Natasha called.
"What?" I responded with a jerk.
"Why are you staring at him like that?" Natasha inquired.
"Or should I say - Do you like him?" Anastasia asked in a coquettish manner.
"Nope - gush! A mere library guide!" I snapped.
"Who told you that he is a guide, he is a fellow student from Nigeria!" Natasha cuts in.
"Oh, really, a tourist!" I said shocked.
"Uh-huh! So do you want to ask him out?" Anastasia asked as they started laughing.
"Yuck! He only reminded me of a black janitor in my high school, who was a pervert!" I replied with disgust.
"Rose and her weird thoughts!" Anastasia said smacking me on the buttocks as we playfully left the museum.
***
Later that day, when the sun was drowsy, I jogged; close to a bend, I was joined by a black male;
"Hey! I remember you!" He exclaimed as he back-pedaled.
"Uhm; I don't!" I replied feigning displeasure.
"Oh, yes! A friend of Natasha and Anastasia, at the museum - remember?" He asked with childlike sincerity.
"Oh, you! Hi!" I said taking my headphone off as we jogged at equal pace.
"I am Chike - Afam Chike!" He said with a captivating smile with enchanted dimples.
"Rose - Rose Anderson! Your name is rather short for a typical African!" I remarked smiling.
"Rose, this African is from Nigeria. And over there, names mean a lot!" He retorted rather unflappable.
"So you are a tourist?" I asked.
"Kind of; I am actually hoping to extend my stay from six months to permanent residency!" He said smiling with assurance.
"By swaying an unsuspecting white citizen with love, marriage and then permanent residency?" I poked.
"Of course not! I am a descent human. I actually want my work to be patented in America. Which usually comes with the additional perk of citizenship!" He replied with a smile.
"Oh, that's good!" I said with admiration.
As we jogged, we talked on myriads of things bothering Africa - Nigeria in particular - from internet fraud, bad government and ritual and at a crossroads we stopped.
He pulled me to himself, I frozed;
"So can I have your digits?" He asked staring into my eyes.
I just handed him my phone, like one under a spell and after sometime, he returned it and instantly it rang.
"That's my number; I would call you!" He said smiling as he dashed off like an athlete.
****
A day later, I met Chike outside Detroit love garden, we hugged tenderly and went into the garden hand in hand. After hours of touring the garden, we sat at a bench covered with colourful tendrils and spoke at length;
"You know Rose, I won't forgive myself if I don't do this!" He said with drowsy eyes, he lean forward and we kissed; tenderly and then greedily with energetic caressing and at that moment, I squirt.
So I jerked away slowly,
"Rose I love you!" He said passionately.
"I love you too Chike!" I responded with unease.
"Chike, can I use the restroom?" I asked awkwardly.
"Why?" He asked rather startled.
"Girlish wetness!" I replied with unexpected spontaneity.
"Ok! Let me walk you there!" He said as we both stood up and walked to the restroom.
After spending sometime in the restroom, using the dryer to dry my wet pants, I heard a mild chatter outside and later heard Chike screaming in pain. Then, I quickly dressed up and rushed out.
There I met Chike lying on the floor face down with a police officer pressing him to the ground while the other officer walked towards me;
"Good evening! I am an officer, we are here because of a burglary attack at the jewelry shop, opposite this garden. Eyewitness description fits this man!" The officer said with finesse pointing at Chike.
"Oh!" I said with deep shock.
"So, is he any acquittance of yours?" The officer asked, instantly Chike forced his head up and said;
"Rose tell them that I am innocent!" Chike shouted with unease.
"Yes; kind of. But you know that a black man is capable of anything!" I replied with poise.
"Ok, then! Come on! Move it!" The officer shouted as he hurled Chike into the car and drove off.
****
After the trial, with not enough evidence of conviction, Chike was deported back to Nigeria on charges of unruly behaviour and theft.
Then, a month later, the actual perpetrator, a Detroit born white male delinquent, was caught. He testified of carrying out the act using a minstrel costume and was sentenced accordingly."
Then, I was brought back to reality,
"Aren't you going to Nigeria?" A nubile black damsel asked.
"Yes; I am!" I replied slowly.
"See!" She said pointing at the opposite direction.
Instantly, I rose up, picked up my luggage and dashed off like a lunatic.