Read Online Season of Crimson Blossoms by Abubakar Adam Ibrahim - Free Book Online Page A

Binta, her back to him already, moved further away. ‘I am not a ’ yar iska .’
    Reza frowned. ‘Well, I never said you were. I think very highly of you, you understand?’
    â€˜I don’t want you making assumptions about me because of what happened. I am a decent, respectable woman, you know.I have never been with any man other than my husband, God rest his soul.’
    â€˜I understand that, trust me. I would never think of you in such a light.’ He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. ‘I don’t understand how this thing happened.’
    She sighed. ‘Since the last time you came and … I have been thinking people could look at me and see fornication written across my forehead. Or perceive its smell on me.’
    He chuckled. ‘You smell nice. And there is nothing written on your forehead.’
    â€˜No, you don’t understand. You may be used to such things. I am not. The first few days, I was overcome by guilt and shame. I couldn’t attend classes at the madrasa for fear people would know what had happened. And when you didn’t come back I thought you despised me for what had happened, what I let happen. And then a week passed and I thought oh, well perhaps I wasn’t even good enough for him. What could he possibly do with a hag like me?’
    â€˜No, no, you are not a hag, stop saying that.’ He reached across the bed and put an arm around her. ‘And I don’t despise you. I thought you despised me for taking advantage of you and I had no idea what to expect if I came back. I didn’t plan for any of this to happen, you understand.’
    â€˜No one must ever know about this.’
    â€˜They won’t hear it from me. I promise.’
    She sighed. ‘So, why do they call you Reza anyway?’
    He scoffed and moved away from her, turning his back to her. ‘It was a long time ago. I was young then.’
    She turned and looked at his tight muscles and saw how well chiselled his body was, reminding her how young he was, and how old she had become. She drew the sheets over her bosom.
    â€˜I have many brothers, from the same father, you understand.’ He cleared his throat, as if to cough away the dust the years had cast on these unvisited memories. For a while he was silent.
    â€˜They always made fun of me, because my … because my … because I was different, you understand.’
    She reached out and stroked his back, tracing the scythe-shaped scars.
    â€˜They always said bad things about … you know, they werealways saying bad things, you understand. So one day, when we finished from school, Bulama came to say things to me. He is older than me and he was always picking fights because … he was always fighting me because I allowed him to. But I had had some grass then, my first time, and I was feeling … you know, bold, you understand. So I gave him a good beating. He picked up a stone but I cut him with a blade, made a huge gash on his arm. His mother Talatu said that my father had given birth to an accursed razor. She started calling me Reza to mock me. But I didn’t mind.’
    â€˜So that was how.’
    When he turned and smiled, she saw how ruggedly handsome he was. They looked into each other’s faces, their eyes saying the things their hearts were thinking, things they would not voice.
    Binta looked away first, thinking how insane it was that she had just slept with someone who reminded her of her first son, who was probably younger than Yaro had been when he died. She covered her face with her palms. ‘How far did you go, with school I mean?’
    He sighed. ‘I was expelled in my final year in secondary school.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜I broke a teacher’s nose.’ He shook his head. ‘He wanted to flog me on the assembly ground because they found me dealing weed to some students.’
    â€˜So, what stopped you from going back and