Dangerous Love Read Online Free

hand, walked briskly down the corridor, and acknowledged greetings as he went out into the street. The compound people stared at them, some even cheered. Children trailed behind them excitedly. Then they were gone. To a party, to a meeting, or something. It was not often the man went out like that. He was something of a natural showman, but ever since Omovo’s mother died and his business began to fall to pieces and his two sons were turned out of the house, there had been no occasion for being a showman. This was a departure. He seemed to be celebrating life again with his new wife. But Omovo knew otherwise; he saw beneath the dignity, the fine clothes, and the feathered hat to the bright crack within and a threatening void.
    Omovo, feeling abandoned, tried not to think of anything. His mind whirled lightly. The bulb swung gently. The wind whistled through the compound. Mosquitoes attacked in squads. And the children howled. Omovo felt very far away from the life about him. A keen, ill-defined revolt simmered and died away within him. The perfume still hung in the air. The compound throbbed with its characteristic jangling noises.
    He did not put the lights on in his room when he went in. He tried hard to sleep. The room changed shape and the darkness pressed on his mind like an incubus. The old decrepit fan whirling on the table blew back the stale sweaty smells in the room. And the whirling fan blades became disconnected sounds and images of unrest in his mind. And then, as if from a great distance, he heard the disconnected sounds stop. The noises of the compound which filtered into the room suddenly died away. And he was glad because nothing, not even the darkness, could claim him. As he dropped farther and farther away into the bright void, he had the curious sensation that he was dying and that everything was dying with him.

3
    They both walked in silence. They had been silent ever since she came up to him where he stood beside the mechanic’s workshop, touched him lightly on the shoulder, and said: ‘Omovo, I’m here. Let’s go.’
    The Badagry Road stretched like a mirage before them. It was well tarred. It was also full of treacherous potholes. Cars of various makes and in various stages of decay drove past noisily, and left sickening fumes in the air.
    They were silent when they crossed the road. Cars whistled past close to them. Omovo brushed his hand against hers. She half turned towards him, her mouth opened as if to speak. But she decided against it and slipped her fingers into his. The two hands were linked for a moment and when he pretended to scratch an itch on his head, they disengaged lightly.
    The sky was clear and clean; a spaceless blue dome. The air was fickle. One moment it was light-tipped, fresh, and the next it was full of smoke and gasoline fumes. Birds swooped past twittering, and he felt their presence keenly. Then they were black specks scattered in the canvas of the sky. He was suddenly touched with a sense of things that were irrevocably lost, of places that cannot be reached.
    â€˜I had a dream, Omovo.’
    Her voice came as a surprise. It was there, had gone, and wasn’t there anymore. Her face shadowed over. He held his breath, his heart beating a little faster, as he waited for her to speak.
    â€˜Ifeyiwa, you were saying...?’
    â€˜I’m not even sure whether I was dreaming,’ she said.
    â€˜Well, say it then. I am listening.’
    There was silence. And then even that was destroyed. Cars went past. A helicopter flew overhead and motorcyclists roared down the sun-drenched road. She began to speak.
    â€˜I was in a hall. The hall changed into a coffin. The rats began to chew at me in the coffin. I fought my way out and found myself in a forest. The trees were ugly. As I tried to find my way out of the forest everything changed back into the hall. This time there was nothing except the sound of something scratching and chewing. I wasn’t