It was a cosy bar where guys dropped in after a long day and ordered bowls of hot pepper soup and alcohol while they talked with friends, smoking, chattering, vomiting, tripping on their feet. It was night and the bar was dark, only lit by a big fancy red bulb on the ceiling in the middle of the bar. The air in the room smelt of cigarette smoke and fresh catfish pepper soup from a table in the corner where three young men sat around a small table. Two of them were dressed in regular skin-tight T-shirts and jeans, but the third, Dumbo, was dressed in a finely sewed senator jumper that had a gold coated chain attached and hanging down the end of his breast pocket. The bar girl set down bottles of Heineken and dropped an opener on their table. Turning to leave, she winked at Dumbo before catwalking away, the catchy red waist beads around her hip visible above her shorts.
“I think she just passed you a message Dumbo,” Alex, one of the guys said. Dumbo looked at his face, his dreadlock punk hairstyle gave him a more rugged look aside the large scar on his right temple that he’d claimed to have sustained in a car accident instead of a fight like people often affirmed. Dumbo ignored the comment leaving his friends chuckling mockingly. “Tell me you don’t do bar girls again. This Sister you’re getting married to might just make a dearly beloved Brother out of you boy!” Alex added before he and Segun roared with laughter. Segun, fiddling with a bitter kola with his left fingers, peeled it, threw it into the air and let it fall back into his palm.
Dumbo chuckled. “Her name is Rebekah,” he said in a serious tone rubbing the golden ring on his finger with his thumb. An expensive imported ring that his father gave him only a day before. He glanced back at the bar girl standing at an extreme table. She winked again.
“See you see Isaac,” Segun responded reaching across the table for the opener. Alex roared with laughter again. “Correct!” Segun added shaking the bottle before popping it open. It foamed and he let it pour on the ground in between his legs. He put a cigarette stick to his lips and spoke from one side of his mouth. “An old cargo like you cannot be changed by a woman.”
“I’ve changed. I tell you,” Dumbo replied confidently.
“I really thought you’d marry a girl like that,” Alex said pointing at the bar girl. “You know, birds of a feather…”
“I can’t marry a bar girl.”
“Let’s just have a round of Heineken and talk about Isaac later,” Segun cut in. They all laughed.
“Now you’re talking. I just wanted a last hang out with you guys before I finally drop. No more bar nights,” Dumbo declared as he poured the drink for himself.
“Sure, sure,” Alex said nudging Segun’s elbow with his. Segun smiled. He turned around and tried signaling the bar girl but she was out of sight. He got up and went to the counter. Dumbo and Segun just discussed in hushed tones before he returned with beer bottles. He leant over the table, his silver necklace dangling from his neck. “Guys, guys, show dey o. Night Girl is dancing tonight,” he informed his friends excitedly. He placed three bottles of strong beer on the table. “To commemorate our hang outs, we’ll have a second round of beer,” he added.
“Ah, no, no. Rebekah could call me anytime now. I can’t be in a bar and pick her call, I’m leaving now after this bottle,” Dumbo said raising his Heineken. “I’m drunk already.”
“You can’t leave, the show is about to start. I told you, Night Girl is dancing tonight! The time is 8pm, the bar would soon be full. No miss am guy! One last show, man!” Alex persuaded. Dumbo turned and looked towards the door, people were coming in.
“I’m about to marry a priest’s daughter, if anyone sees me watching a bar show like this, ha! Rebekah’s parents would flip. Marriage cancelled, and mehn! I love Rebekah,” Dumbo told them.
“Ah, we know. We know. Calm down, we’re only watching, not mingling,” Alex said popping the beer bottles. They all looked up to the ceiling as the room got blasted with light from other coloured bulbs. The lights were fully on now and the front of the bar was cleared. The DJ set up his speaker at the right end of the room and someone took up the microphone to introduce the performance. Dumbo looked around the bar stealthily to see if anyone familiar was near. Sinking comfortably in his seat, he relaxed to enjoy the show.
The performer, a dancer who went by the club name Night Girl, was introduced and the DJ rolled the tape while the dancer stepped in with a short scarf around her waist which she loosed and threw towards a couple of men in the front seat, her near naked body revealed for all to see. Her face was concealed under a fancy mask, her usual look when dancing in clubs. Her assistant passed a tray around to collect money for her. On getting to Dumbo’s table, he dipped his hand in his pocket and found nothing, only cards. He smiled at the lady with the tray as he pulled off his golden ring and dropped it on the tray.
After spending a much longer time than he had anticipated, Dumbo got up to leave since the show was over. He walked out of the bar with his friends and they just stood staring at the moon. “Who’s flashing a torch at us?” Alex asked Dumbo.
“It must be that bike man I argued with this morning. He’ve come for his money,” Segun replied. Dumbo slapped him behind the head, staggering a bit.
“That’s the moon you idiots!” he said. He shook his head sadly. “I’m surrounded by fools,” he added placing his elbow on Segun’s shoulder.
“Oh yes… it’s true. It’s the moon. But… Why does it seem so far away?” Alex asked Dumbo as they looked. Three drunk men, standing around in the dark night.
“I don’t know, we’ll get it down one day,” Dumbo replied.
“Not someday. Today! I can shoot it down, I can!” Alex went on staggering. Segun dipped his hand in his pocket and took out the bitter kola he’d been playing with. He aimed at the moon
and took his shot. He missed. The moon remained where it was, looking down at them.
“See? You’ve gotten me drunk,” Dumbo said beating his own chest, “a graduate like me. Do you know how much I am worth?” He went on peering at his friends in his dizziness. “Bad, bad, bad friends like you,” he pointed, “baddest boys like us!” He shouted, raising both hands into the air. They all hailed noisily.
The bar had closed up and all the guests were gone. Dumbo looked back at the bar, there at the entrance was the crazy dancer, Night Girl. She had pulled on a proper dress and taken off her fancy mask. Though Dumbo was drunk, he could tell she was the one because she was wearing a ring–his ring, and her assistant, the tray girl was standing with her, holding the tray. But when she turned towards the drunken men, it wasn’t just the dancer, it was a familiar face. Rebekah. Or was it not? He couldn’t believe it. Dumbo wiped his face with his palm to see clearer, he staggered nearer and nearer till he stumbled and fell just beside her.
“Oh God, a drunkard,” she scampered away from him. She walked away disgusted. Dumbo thought it was Rebekah’s voice. Hallucination? A drunkard cannot be trusted. He laid there, surely he would be sought and found fallen in front of a bar and everyone would know he’s a helpless drunkard. But, maybe it wouldn’t matter because Rebekah was already wearing his ring.
Peace Nkeiruka Maduako
Peace Nkeiruka Maduako is a Nigerian writer, a fictionist often inspired by paintings and art that tell stories in themselves. She dreams to create works that will reach the soul of people worldwide. She has been published on Kalahari Review, SweetycatPress anthologies, Brigitte Poirson Chapbook, SpillWords Press, Screen Crust Magazine, ClayJar Review and more. She resides in Owerri, Imo state and is on Facebook as Peace Nkeiruka.
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