Two Weeks Later

Ebuka woke up with a start, breaking out in cold sweat. He checked the clock, it was 6 am.

“Lord, why don’t I have peace?” 

He already knew the answer, he could not get the boy that asked for biscuit and his mother out of his mind. It was as though his mind had photographed them and was determined to flash their picture.

“Is this guilt?”

Ebuka had postponed the execution of the restaurant because his mind was too distracted to focus on it, and as such, could not honour the promise to give Gladys’ sister the job, even if she fit the role. However, ever since he saw her at the entrance of his business place, he had been overwhelmed with a need to help them. He knew Ada’s story. Gladys couldn’t stop talking about how her Christian sister was so foolish, and had ruined her life by marrying the wrong man.

“Why do you have to say “Christian”, as though her Christianity is the reason for her downfall?” Ebuka had asked.

Ever since he gave his life to Christ three years ago, he had been doing his best to get Gladys to believe in Jesus, but he had always failed. She considered everything related to Christianity as a misguided weakness, and concerning her sister, she had said, “Despite all her so-called relationship with God, she still chose the wrong man and messed up her life.”

Messed her life!

Ebuka sighed. 

He was already used to how God spoke to him by now.

“Do you want me to fix her up? Is that it? Is that why I keep seeing her and her son?”

Ebuka sighed, then rose to get his morning exercise done. However, instead of using the gym in his house, he decided to get into the car and drive to his business place, where he could work out and work with some of the clients.

It felt like a good plan. A perfect distraction to forget about Ada and her son.

————————————————————————————————————————–

Even though it was already 7:30 a.m., Ada hoped Richard was still asleep.

Despite the shame, she was grateful to be back in the family house, to have her people around, watching him while she stepped out to make small cash.

Yesterday, he had woken up at 6 a.m. and insisted on following her to the express, where she sold hot meat pie. He had clung to her side the entire time, curious, restless, refusing to be left behind. This morning, as she adjusted the tray on her head, she said a quiet prayer, that she would sell everything she brought before he woke up.

Yesterday, she had made only twenty pieces.

Today, she was trying fifty.

Instead of going to the express, she stayed by the edge of the road, testing her luck closer to home. She lifted her voice, steady and hopeful, calling out to passersby:

“Hot meat pie here!”

Thanks to her mother, who had given her twenty thousand naira, another hand out, Ada was able to start the business. This time, it wasn’t just about getting by. Fletcher was part of the reason she was trying to make her own money. She needed to prove to herself that she could sustain herself and Richard, that she could save enough to move out again, even if it took time.

In the past, whatever they gave her went straight to Richard. Now, she was starting small, painfully small, but she was starting.

“Hot meat pie!” she shouted, her voice rising with the morning traffic, just as a car pulled up beside her.

Ada quickly set the sample aside and reached into her cooler for a fresh piece.

“It’s one thousand naira,” she said, then froze.

“Ebuka!” she gasped.

Embarrassment washed over her in a hot, dizzy rush. How had she forgotten? They all lived in this neighbourhood. His house was just the next street, close enough that she should have known better than to stand here, shouting prices by the roadside.

Of course he would pass this road.

She felt suddenly exposed. A trained chef. A professional cook. Reduced to selling roadside snacks in the same neighbourhood where people knew her, knew what she used to do, and knew what she had lost.

“Would you like one?” she asked, forcing the words past the tightness in her chest.

“Can I buy everything you have here so we can go somewhere and talk?” Ebuka asked. He was still reeling from the sight of her. He had never imagined things had become this bad.

“You can buy only what you need,” Ada said calmly, surprised by her own steadiness. “If you want to talk, you can honour our interview. I’ve been trying to speak with you for over a month now.”

“In that case,” Ebuka said, “come into my car with your things. Let’s talk.”

“This is my peak period,” Ada replied, gripping the edge of her cooler. “If I don’t sell everything before the work-hour rush, I’ll have to take it back home.”

“Ada, get into the car. We need to talk,” Ebuka said, his voice firm, leaving little room for argument.

She sighed. Then, reluctantly, she carried her wares to the trunk of his car and slid into the passenger seat.

As soon as the door closed, Ebuka drove off.

—————————————————————————————————————————-

It started out as the most awkward conversation she had ever had in her life, but something about being with Ebuka in this coffee shop, opened her mouth and got her talking about the greatest mistake of her life; marrying Justus and how it ruined her.

“If not for Richard, I would have been lost.”

Ada didn’t know why she felt comfortable opening up to him, he was practically a stranger, but she had bottled things up for so long, she needed an outlet.

“I don’t know how I was that stupid, how I let him use me like that, or how I threw away my career, but I feel so buried.”

Ebuka reached for her hand from across the table. Her hands felt really small in his own; small and safe.

“It’s time to stop feeling stupid, and move on.” Ebuka said.

“I am so broken, I don’t have the strength to move. I am just getting by, trying to survive with my son! Moving on takes more strength than I have.”

“That is why you have Jesus!” Ebuka assured her. “If there is anything I have repeatedly heard about you from Gladys, it is that you are a Christian. Are you going to be a bad example of who Christ died for? Or have you forgotten that you are Christ’s ambassador? You must find strength to live a victorious life. Lean on Jesus.”

Ada took one of her hands from his to wipe a stray tear.

“When did you become a pro Jesus guy? I thought you were like my sister. Christian only in form.”

Ebuka smiled, knowing what she meant.

“I was like her, but now, things are different. Three years ago, I went on a self-discovery journey. I realised that I was so resentful of my childhood that I thought that God didn’t love me enough to plant me in a happy home. However, now I know better, and so I gave my life to Jesus.”

“What do you know better?” Ada asked curiously.

“I know that in this world, there will be tribulations, but that we are overcomers, and if we trust Jesus to direct our lives we can enjoy the gift of salvation that fills our lives with blessed hope. I used to be so frustrated and alone, but the Lord gave me a great sense of peace and purpose that can only be found in Him.”

Ada sighed, nodding in agreement with him, and he continued.

“You are the beloved of the Lord, Ada. You chose the Lord, and He accepted you. Yahweh will not throw you away just because you made a mistake. Believe in Him. Trust in Him, lean on Him, and you will see Him turn your life around and help you build again.” Ebuka said, letting go of her hand.

“I will try. I will try to find my way back.” Ada said solemnly, remembering the journey that led her into desolation.

As if he could read her mind, Ebuka said, “Stop focusing on the past. Think about the future. You may think you are broken, but it doesn’t matter. God can fix you, and I can be there for you.”

He can be there for her!

The words re-echoed in her ears and she smiled. Ebuka was trying to do a missionary thing with her, but soon, he would get tired of how complicated her life had become. He may be a Christian now, ready to do the good works of faith, but he was not her messiah. However, even without him, she knew that she had to step up her faith game, and stop living a defeated life. Ebuka reminded her of that, and that was enough, or so she thought.

——————————————————————————————————————

Thirty Minutes Later

Ebuka drove away slowly, his eyes catching her in the rear-view mirror as she returned to her spot by the roadside. Ada adjusted her tray, lifted her voice again, and slipped back into the rhythm of selling as though nothing had happened. The sight unsettled him. He told himself he had done enough, bought what he could, listened, even stayed longer than he planned, but the image followed him all the way to the gym. By the time he parked and stepped inside, her face was still with him, her words lingering, her pride refusing to be ignored.

Ebuka knew what he had to do long before he stepped onto the treadmill at the gym.

What troubled him was how to do it.

Ada was not helpless, that much was clear. She carried herself with a quiet pride that made charity feel insulting. He had seen it in the way she stiffened when he offered to buy everything on her tray, how she had clammed up even though he eventually paid for everything anyway.

What still surprised him, though, was the meat pie.

While they were still inside the coffee shop, talking, he had ordered one without thinking. He loved meat pie; it was almost instinctive. At the time, it hadn’t even occurred to him that he was sitting across from someone selling the same thing outside.

It was only when they stepped out and headed toward the car that Ada stopped short and looked at him.

“So you were only trying to pity me?” she asked quietly.

He frowned. “Pity you? How?”

“You offered to buy everything on my tray,” she said, her tone light but guarded, “yet you still bought meat pie inside.”

Realisation hit him all at once.

“Oh my God,” he said. “I honestly forgot. I’m sorry.”

Then he paused, reconsidered, and added, “You know what, let me actually taste your meat pie.”

She hesitated, then went back to her tray and returned with one. He took a bite, and froze.

This was not roadside meat pie.

This was exceptional.

He stared at it, then at her. “Ada… how are you even making any profit from this?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know how to use the wrong ingredients. Even if the profit margin is low, once demand increases, it will still add up.”

He shook his head slowly. “You’re underselling this.”

She smiled faintly. “The good thing is that I didn’t have to buy everything. I used ingredients from my mum’s kitchen, potatoes, spices, even the oven. I only paid for flour and beef.”

Ebuka whistled under his breath. “That’s smart.”

He tried again to buy everything. She refused again. In the end, he bought only three, and she returned to her spot by the roadside, but when he made a transfer to pay, he paid for everything on her tray.

Even though he had dropped her off and driven away, the unease stayed with him.

It felt too familiar. Like the guilt he had felt earlier when Richard asked if he had biscuits in the car, and he didn’t. Leaving Ada there felt the same way, unfinished, unresolved.

At the gym, he gave the remaining meat pies to a few people. Every single one of them loved it.

That was when it clicked.

She wasn’t a charity case.

She was an asset.

On the treadmill, sweat running down his temples, Ebuka found himself smiling. Why rush into a full restaurant commitment when there was a smarter way to bring her on board? A smaller step. A professional one.

Breakfast service.

By the time he finished his workout, he had made up his mind.

He picked up his phone to text her, then realised he didn’t even have her number. He asked Gladys, who sent it immediately. He could have asked his manager; they had Ada’s CV. But it didn’t matter now.

He typed quickly.

Ada, can I see you again today? I know you’ve had a full morning, but I think we need to talk.

Her reply came a few minutes later.

Okay. I will come to your office by noon.

And for the first time that morning, Ebuka felt settled.