Stitched
Mayowa Ojo
6/10/20265 min read
Knock knock. Before I could give a response, Fatai poked his head into the cubicle I had for an office while I was on the phone with my fiancée, Lola.
Either oblivious or impervious to all the daggers I sent his way with my looks, he yelled, “Madam Felicia is here,” before stepping back out to continue working.
He had no idea I was about to fire him for his fast piling heap of sins in my workshop. No doubt, he was very skilled but I was not about to allow a guy with no formal training preach a message of indispensability to me in my own office.
I’d just spent the last half hour reiterating and informing Lola of all his old and new atrocities and she listened patiently, as always. She could tell from the second we got on the call that something was off with me. I guess five years of dating does that to a couple. We knew each other so well that I’d be envious of us if I were an on-looker.
Lola was not keen on me firing Fatai until there was a suitable replacement and I agreed. She quickly reminded me of a price quote I was supposed to give to her for one of her colleagues; She had sent me a whatsapp picture with the style and fabric her friend wanted.
Lola was always so supportive of my business; patronising me and insisting on payment every so often. Then there was the issue of making her work colleagues patronize me too.
Part of the reasons why firing Fatai was a painful decision was that he really did know his onions. His habit of playing disappearing acts was just no longer acceptable.
The cheek of him though! The only reason he got up to inform me of Felicia’s presence was because she was always lavish toward him every time she visited. She really was no madam unless of course, you went by her size.
Felicia was young and could easily be misunderstood as a runs girl because of her flashy lifestyle. In truth, she was a power house from money and of money. She knew how to make it and she made a lot of it.
“Okay babe, no wahala. We’ll talk later. Felicia is here now. Enjoy the rest of your day,” I said to Lola and then I got off the phone with her.
I used to think I was high energy until I met Felicia. In spite of her size she was very bubbly; like she would explode with excitement every time, speaking in a high pitched voice that took some getting used to. I braced myself as I stepped out to meet her.
****************
She jumped up as soon as she saw me and gave me a generous bear hug. I almost choked but I smiled. She was one of my highest-paying customers and she really was nice. Choking in her embrace was a small price to pay!
When I managed to tear myself away from her, I saw a fine guy (when me, a TDH guy sees another guy that is TYH I have to be humble enough to accept that fine pass fine) who happened to be her younger brother, Bobby. She’s told me so much about him that I felt like I knew him already.
Sure guy. Down to earth and easy to get along with.
“There’s this fabric I just got that you will absolutely love, Yinka,” Felicia said as she produced the fabric from her bag.
I tried very hard not to gawk but how could I not? That fabric could pay the rent of my shop twice and she wanted me to cut it up and sew it. I gulped.
“Wait first, I can see Bobby is getting tired of this drama. He needs to leave so let’s sort him out first,” Felicia said.
“Oga Bobby, what do you want to have made for you?”
He smiled. “Abeg, bone that oga matter. I’m not here for myself though. I want to make something for my girlfriend.”
“Ah! Mr. lover man. Nice move. Okay what’s the occasion?”
“It’s her birthday next month. I have a picture of the design I know she wants. That’s about as far as I can help you.”
I smiled. That was code for, Find the fabric and colour and make the style look great on her. He passed his phone to me to see the design on a model.
“I know this design. My fiancée’s colleague wants to make the exact same thing or is she the one sef? Is her name Patience?”
“Not at all.”
I gave him the cost for making the outfit along with the cost of getting the fabric and then I remembered that he was not the recipient else I’d have asked Fatai to take his measurement while I attended to Felicia.
“Do you know her stats though?”
“Nah! How na? We’ve only been going out for about three months.”
“Ah. How am I supposed to make the dress if I don’t have her measurement?”
“But you can use her picture to gauge her size now, Yinkaaaa! Help my brother here,” Felicia chipped in.
She was right. I’d done that several times and ninety-nine percent of the time I was spot on so I asked him to show me a picture of his girlfriend.
I stared hard at the image in front of me, confusion setting in as I wondered why he handed me my phone.
“This is my phone now.”
“Dude your phone is over there on the table. This is mine.”
“How did you get Lola’s picture on your phone?”
“How do you know Lola?”
“She’s my fiancée. Is she the girlfriend you want to make the cloth for?”
Bobby was quiet. We looked at each other and for a second I wanted to laugh. That was the part in the movies where guys would break into a fight over a girl but there was no need for that.
“She told me she could not be too serious with me yet cos there’s someone else but she didn’t exactly say go away.”
I was quiet. How can you even process your thoughts and be coherent? I wondered.
“Wait, she said the guy was a microbiologist. You can’t be the same person… you're a tailor?”
“I have a first degree and masters in Microbiology,” I whispered, unable to speak audibly.
I tried. Oh, I tried but I could not hold it. As the first tear drop slipped from the corner of my left eye I cursed my tear glands for betraying me. By the time the second eye was full of tears, I was done cursing and was just in disarray. Five years, five years! I chanted like a mantra. I’d invested five years of my life into that relationship. Plans were already underway for our wedding in ten months’ time.
All the Hows and Ifs kept popping up in my head like a computer malfunctioning due to a virus infection; they just wouldn’t go away.
“I’m sorry bro,” Bobby said. “This chic is as good as a murderer.”
Felicia walked up to me and hugged me tight. I wanted her to squeeze me till I choked and died. I never knew I could hurt that much and so quickly. Always felt I was tough and could handle anything but not this one.
I felt stitched. Not in the mended type of way but in the cloth running through the sewing machine as the needle punctures holes in the fabric in the name of stitching.
************
That was a month ago. The fact that I’d spent the past seven years sewing and stitching fabric pieces did not prepare or qualify me to stitch my heart.
Bobby said he would break up with her and he did before he left my workshop but I did not care.
I haven’t spoken with her since then even though she has called a thousand times. There’s just nothing to say. I sent her a text to end the relationship after Bobby showed me their whatsapp chat which I emailed to myself as evidence.
Felicia says to count myself lucky for dodging a bullet. I see her point but it doesn’t feel that way; not right now. It feels more like I’ve been run over by a BRT bus and then dragged around town by street dogs. I’m in pieces and there’s no professional to stitch me back together.