Sharon Nwokedi knew she’d made a collosal error the moment she stepped into the room. It was more than the fact that she was standing in the biggest event centre in Lekki, when Mrs. Uju told her that it was only going to be a “small gathering with the girls.” It was more than the fact that every single woman as far as her eyes could see was draped in all the luxurious designer brands known to man. It was more than the blinding lights from the overhead chandelier, and the nearly smothering scent of ouds and flowery perfumes.
It was the tension that could be cut with a knife. The hostility and animosity that remained a thick aura even with the overly cheerful smiles and chattering of the women. She could feel its potency almost to the point of palpability. Sharon immediately felt like a fish out of water, and she hated it. She began to think fast. Maybe no one had noticed her, and she could make a hasty exit? Grateful for her quick thinking, she began to turn.
“Mrs. Nwokedi, you made it!” An excited voice called her back. Gritting her teeth, she had a ready-made smile on her face as she turned.
“Ah, Mrs. Adeniran, I only had to. You made it nearly impossible to refuse.”
She hoped Mrs. Adeniran took no offence, but the petite, dark-skinned woman only chuckled heartily. “Oh, you’re delightful, Mrs. Nwokedi. This is why I said you’ll make an excellent addition to us. You make the most hilarious jokes.”
Sharon didn’t remotely consider what she said a joke in any form, but she was glad no offence was taken. With her attempt at disappearing now outside the window, she only had to survive through whatever was about to take place.
“Come come,” Mrs. Adeniran was still talking. “I’m sure the ladies are dying to meet you.” She held Sharon’s hand through a stream of waiters till she got to the centre of the room that held what must have been the largest round table Sharon had ever seen. Like everywhere else in the event centre, the table and chairs around it screamed opulence with its gold and wine red furnishings. The chairs were nearly filled with the women who talked animatedly to themselves.
The February sun had nothing on these women who had on the thickest layers of make-up, and many a woman in large Chanel sunglasses that covered half of their faces. The table was filled with all manner of edible delights but it remained untouched in front of the ladies, like they were waiting on who would take the first bite, and dare to be called a glutton. This was truly the survival of the richest. Sharon chuckled darkly to herself. Boy, was she in for a night.
“Is there an issue, Mrs. Nwokedi?” Sharon looked up to see a score of eyes riveted on her. Mrs. Adeniran must have tried to introduce her.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sharon said, smiling at the grimacing bunch. Just randomly wondering what my son is up to. For some reason, that was the best thing she could have said, as the ladies faces for the first time broke into genuine smiles, somewhat, and nods of approval. Sharon felt herself visibly relax.
“My dear o,” a chubby woman with barely hidden tribal marks a few seats to her left said. “You’re not the only one. Just the other day I was lamenting on whether my poor Junior could find African restaurants that would serve proper banga soup. You know that’s his favourite.” The women laughed around her, but Sharon swore she could hear a sprinkle of snickering.
“Okay everyone,” Mrs. Adeniran took over. “This is Mrs. Nwokedi. The wife of the Oil magnate that just moved into my estate.” With a little clap, she gestured to Sharon to continue.
“Good evening, everyone. I’m Mrs. Sharon Nwokedi, but I’d prefer if you called me Sharon. I was introduced to this amazing gathering by Mrs. Ade —”
“No o, my dear. You’re Mrs. Nwokedi,” a slightly older woman at the other side of the table remarked, interrupting Sharon.
“I’m sorry?”
“I said, you’re Mrs. Nwokedi, not Sharon. Over here, we address ourselves by our husband’s names. You know if not for them, this whole gathering won’t be possible, so...”
Sharon looked around her to see the sage nods of approval from every woman in the room, including Mrs. Adeniran. Wow, she really was in enemy territory. Nevertheless, she smiled and asked for permission to continue.
“So, as I was saying, Mrs. Adeniran here is my neighbour and she invited me here to meet with you all as a collective unit. I hope that whatever is our cause here, we’ll make beautiful memories with one another.”
There were a smattering of awwnns around the room. Confident that she’d made a good impression on these women, Sharon nodded at Mrs. Adeniran to indicate that she was done speaking.
Ten minutes later, and Sharon wondered for the umpteenth time how she found herself among these women. After introductions, the women mostly gushed about their billionaire husbands and their antics, as well as those of their children abroad. The fact that every woman had at least one child abroad was not lost on Sharon. She suspected that it was an unsaid criterion to being part of the group.
“They should do and let us leave already,” a woman beside her muttered in Tiv language. Sharon was surprised as she hadn’t expected someone who spoke her mother tongue to be here.
“It must get tiring,” Sharon said to the woman in Tiv, eliciting a smile from her. Soon enough, they began chattering like old friends. Finally, she made a connection. Sharon knew that these women’s only attraction to her stemmed from their understanding that she was like them. Women who came from and spoke money. But it was all a lie. In reality, they couldn’t have been further from the truth. Nevertheless, no one had to know. Not until she completed her mission.
Jhymi🖤
Inspired by the Freewriters' Daily Prompt.
Image created with Meta AI.
