Bichara's Heart: Chapter 6

So much for a family reunion, Rahman thought as he took in the multitude of people – familiar and strange – that filled Nana’s expansive ballroom. She must have invited the whole of Nigeria! He had spotted two Amiras already, dressed the part in royal heirlooms. He sighed. Usually, Nana would receive her guests at the door. She hadn’t done that this time. How was he supposed to find his own family in this crowd?

He stepped into the room, his wife’s palm gently grasping the crook of his elbow. He couldn’t wait for the baby to come. The pregnancy was wearing her down. If she wasn’t getting bigger, he would have thought the baby was draining her blood, it was definitely sapping her energy. She was getting more and more fragile by the day; he was scared to even touch her.

They had just arrived, and Rahman felt exhausted in advance from engaging in draining banter and smiling with people he’d rather not be in the same room with.

“Masoyina!” He caught a flash of silver, a stately turban, as she moved briskly toward them, his grandmother.

“Kaka,” he replied briefly before she pulled him into a full hug. She was too strong for her petite eighty-two-year-old figure. He hoped it meant she had long to live yet. He tried to move out of her grasp, but she held him in, scrutinizing his appearance. She seemed to be satisfied with his grey kaftan two-piece as she smiled up at him. He had ditched the hula even though it was supposed to be a formal event. Nana did not seem to mind.

“So…, it took a grand party to lure you from Rima…, that palace of yours, ba…!” She exclaimed loudly, pausing as she acknowledged Bichara who stood silently by his side. “Ah, kyaun gani! How are our babies?” Nana had this ridiculous notion that they were going to have twins.

Bichara chuckled nervously, walking into Nana’s open arms, and feeling enormously comforted in the kind matriarch’s embrace as she pecked both cheeks. She stepped back and noticed Rahman glancing around them, already itching to be in motion. He was a restless soul, he always needed to be doing something. She, on the other hand, valued precious peace and stillness. They were so different in some ways, and those differences seemed to be creating a hole between them every day. She knew exactly when he spotted a diversion, someone he knew maybe. Times like this, she could read him like a book, other times…

“Who invited him?” She followed his line of sight and was confused for a second until she realized his question was directed at Nana.

“Ahmad is family, Rahman. The Rufais are family. Ni da kaina na gayyace su.” Nana had a knowing look on her face, and Bichara was curious. She knew the Rufai and Bello families had been business partners for about two generations, and friends even longer. Obviously, Rahman and Ahmad did not share the feeling of brotherhood their fathers and grandfathers had. It made sense, Rahman never talked about them. Their names never so much as slipped during any of their conversations which, to be fair, weren’t that many.

“Babban labarai,” Rahman muttered, and Nana excused herself, giving them leave to enjoy the soirée, spotting other important guests stepping in to join the glittering assemblage. He felt Bichara shift uneasily against him and bent his head toward her.

“I need to use the restroom, Rahman,” she voiced softly in French, looking very pale and uncomfortable. He was more than a little concerned.

“Should I come with you?” She shook her head.

“No. Stay. I’ll be fine.” She assured him with a feeble smile. He gave her form a once-over and relented.

“You remember where it is?” She nodded and moved away from his side, eager to get away, expertly maneuvering herself through the crowd of guests. He watched her retreating figure, wondering if he should follow her anyway.

“ Jarababbe.” Rahman flinched. There was only one person in the world who called him that. It was a private joke, one he didn’t want his wife to hear. He glanced in the direction of the call, straight at his cousin. He hadn’t seen Siddiq Abubakar in eleven years and about a month. It felt like an old dream, seeing him in front of him after so long. He had two actual brothers, but Siddiq had been more of a brother to him than anyone in this world. They hugged as soon as he reached him.

“Siddiq…” Rahman trailed off as he grabbed a half-full champagne flute from a passing tray, trying to put himself, his emotions, under control, surprised his cousin did not take one glass for himself. He sincerely never thought he would see him again after he cut off all contact with the family, with him…, and literally vanished during a RuBel-sponsored tour of the Middle East.

A myriad of questions flitted through his mind, directed at the man he thought he knew more than anyone else in the world. He shoved them aside, for now, content with being happy for his return, hoping he hadn’t changed too much. Already, he saw a seriousness in his eyes that was not there before. Siddiq was always the laidback, breezy one who got them both in countless trouble back in the days.

“Cousin…I trust we have a lot to catch up on…” This time, Siddiq’s smile reached his eyes, crinkling the corners. “Like…I heard you now have an exceptionally beautiful, exotic wife.”

Rahman chuckled at his cousin’s not-too-far-off description. “Who told you that? Not back one week, and you’re already privy to rumor mills,” he drawled before taking a full sip of the sweet bubbly. He wondered why they weren’t jumping at each other, why they weren’t more excited to see each other. Maybe it just wasn’t the time and especially not the place to show real reactions.

“Hardly a rumor. Nana’s had me staring at photographs since I got here. I think she’s trying to give me some kind of message… Not back one week, and she’s already trying to get me married. Where is this wife of yours?” Siddiq scanned the faces around them as if he knew how she looked and just where to spot her.

“She’s here somewhere…,” Rahman muttered and looked over in the direction of the two large exits and then around the circular room, past several familiar faces – some nodding in acknowledgment – as he searched for his wife.

She should have been back by now. He found her finally, among a small group of women. He recognized two as his distant cousins, and…was that the Sultan's fourth wife? Bichara probably didn’t recognize any of them. If she was speaking with them, it was Nana’s doing. She was always trying to mix her up with that crowd, but his wife had never felt comfortable in social gatherings.

He watched her awkward movements, smiling nervously and constantly patting her loose white hijab over her ear, probably meaning to brush her lovely curls only he had the honor of seeing, behind her ear, like she always did. She looked stunning. The white gown she picked was his favorite choice too, complementing her pale skin, flattering her body perfectly. So perfect, he was beginning to wish it was for his eyes only. And, the sedate emerald-stone piece around her neck made her light eyes sparkle.

Those eyes met his at that moment as she turned her head, subconsciously responding to his thoughts. There and then, he wanted to pull her to him and take her lips in his.

He heard a throat-clearing sound and remembered who was still beside him. He returned his attention to his cousin, finding his step-sister and her fiancé beside them.

“Sannu dan uwa,” Baraka drawled, her permanent smirk irritating him already. She had her arm around Siddiq, and Rahman remembered being betrayed by his cousin when he started becoming rather too friendly with his overtly brazen half-sister…all those years ago. There seemed to be no love lost between the two now.

“Yar uwa,” he replied, a tad bit sardonic, nodding at Umar Dansuki who was a junior executive at PerSua, his sister’s third engagement in the last three years. Men could smell new inheritance. He wasn’t shocked they usually ran away after a few months though. He was already priming himself to leave their company. “…Siddiq…you’ll stop by Rima soon, ko?”

“I mana!” Siddiq said, pulling his sister closer and kissing her cheek. Umar looked on and Rahman looked away, gulping down the last remains of the sparkling wine. The light vanilla finish made him wish he had picked a sherry instead. “Of course, we’ll see.”

Rahman left their side then, dropping his empty glass on another waiter’s tray. He needed to search for his wife again, but before he could, he was detained by another pair of family members.

Rahman smiled and spread his arms wide to hug his brothers, well, one of them. Hassan and Aliu were the last of his siblings, Aliu, from the same mother as Baraka. His own mother had died shortly after having Hassan. The only thing he remembered of her was her curly long hair and her calm, quiet demeanor, her sweet voice singing Hassan to sleep in the afternoons. When he tried to imagine her now, all he saw was…Bichara.

We took a long break, but we're back now, and with some insight into Rahman's big family. What do you think of Rahman's relationship with his family? Does it tell you anything at all about the kind of person he is? Are you as excited as we are to find out what part Siddiq will play in this story?

Find out more in Chapter 7, coming your way Next Saturday! Make sure you invite a friend because Nana's party isn't over.