From Lasgidi to Las Vegas- where is the love? Part 4

It seemed like the longest flight, ever! Finally, we landed and waved everyone a good time at their final destination. The elderly man walked up to me and said, “Make sure you send him a mail.”

“Oh, thank you, Sir. I will. Do enjoy your holiday.” I responded.

“Oh dear, it is no holiday. I am here for work and would be connecting to far East Asia soon. I wish you all the best and hope to see you with my brother in Lagos, sometime soon.” He smiled; lips turned up, eyes lite up and stepped off the aircraft. I responded with a huge smile as I waived.

“Who is that and what was he talking about?” Folake, my colleague at the aircraft door turned to me and asked.

“I do not know him, really. But I met someone just as I got out of the taxi on arrival at the hotel for briefing last night. Apparently, they know each other. This gentleman relayed a message from him to me” I responded to her curious look, a bit awkwardly and walked away to conduct the landing checks.

An hour later, we arrived at the hotel that would be home for the next few days of layover. Once checked into my room, I unpacked and laid my skirt on the bed, refusing to put it in the closet for fear of losing the note. A quick shower and dressed in a white linen pant and tank top, I sat on the edge of the bed, the light green skirt laid on my laps. I put two fingers in the side pocket of the skirt. I found nothing. A pocket too small for three fingers all at once, I searched frantically for the little note. It was nowhere to be found. Then I searched in my crew bag, par adventure I stowed it there and forgot. I searched the room, the floor, the bathroom and my coffee table- everywhere I had laid my hands on where under search. I found nothing! I sat on the bed, tired, dejected and suddenly feeling sleepy when I heard a knock on my door.

“Girl, come out. Let’s go get breakfast.” Folake called out to me.

“Ok, I will be with you shortly.” I got up from the bed, went into the bathroom, brushed my hair, put on my lip-gloss and joined my colleagues on the corridor. All four of us headed downstairs for breakfast.

“What’s up? Girl, you ain’t saying nothing about the new rule from crew services?” She asked as we walked along the corridor, everyone else chatting happily.

“I am tired and feeling sleepy.” I responded, yawning.

“I know you. You don’t look your usual, happy-go-lucky self. What happened?” She queried me. I ignored her and moved ahead of everyone.

We chose the table at the furthest end of the breakfast room, joining the six other colleagues who were already seated; enjoying their Arabian sweet pastries and tea. I dropped my phone and went to the Chef De Partie. I smiled and accepted the warm handshake of the now familiar, elderly French man who had perfected the art of pastries across the globe and always so warmly welcomed us on arrival to Dubai with his special fruity croissants and chocolat au pain.

“Ca va, mon Cherie?” He asked with a most cheery smile on his face. “Avez-vous vu le monsieur a la recherché pour vous?” He asked, pointing closely behind me.

“Quel monsieur!” I asked, half turning to see who he was calling my attention to.

‘’Oh my world!” I gasped. He was walking towards me, in plain white clothing- a white linen shirt and trousers. His feet showed off a plain, black leather sandal.  His beaming smile was the perfect accessory. I was, simply, swept off my feet at the sight of him.

My heart palpitated rapidly. The distance between us seemed unending as I watched him walked towards me. I leaned backward to keep my feet on the ground and not run towards him. Oh, I was filled with joy at the sight of him, I felt so light all of a sudden I busted into laughter. Finally, the gap closed, he held me so closely, I could barely breath.  His arms around me felt heavenly. I was light headed, no cares in the world. This was where I wanted to be.

“Merci beaucoup, Monsieur Charles. Je l’ai trouve ma belle, merci” He spoke the language fluently.

For a moment, I thought he was someone else. He leaned away from me a little, allowing me to breathe, “I found you.” He spoke so softly.

Hands held together, we turned to Monsieur Charles with giggles like kids. He winked at us and we turned around to find a seat away from my colleagues, just the two of us. There was so much to talk about; a third person would be unwelcomed. We found a table just for two, overlooking the lawn.

“Did you get my note? I got to know from a friend whose brother works with you guys that you would stay in this hotel once I found out you might be headed here or London. I prayed frantically it would be here and not London you were headed. I believe my prayer was expressly answered. That is the friend who gave you my note onboard your flight. I flew another airline here.”  He explained; giving answers to the unasked questions on my mind.

“I lost the note. I never read it. I guess I over-kept somewhere. I thought I had it in my skirt’s side pocket.” I said, laughing at myself.

“That’s ok. I found you and that’s all that matters now.” My name is Chukwudi Onyenso, only son of my parents, the last child after three lovely girls. I can imagine you becoming best friends with them when we welcome you into our family, all dues paid.” He related cheerily.

This time around, I could not help but laugh out loud. “Who in the world asks for a girl’s hand of friendship this way? Anyway, my name is ………..and the rest is history, as you say.

Our friendship grew. Our families met and despite the cultural differences, we were an item, a match made out of this world. He wrote me a note each day no matter where I was across the globe. We travelled together, everywhere, whenever possible. Life was blissful.  To be continued.

Mojereola Mustapha