The Bride in the Grill

At nine forty on a Friday night, Emeka Obi was fanning his grill with a piece of cardboard when a bride fell into his stall.

She came in sideways, through the gap between the tarpaulin and the table, in a cloud of white tulle, a veil half torn off, one shoe missing. She landed on his sack of onions and lay there, gasping.

"Madam?" said Emeka.

"Shh!"

"You are on my onions."

"I know! Be quiet!" She rolled off, snatched at her skirt, and crouched behind the cooler. She was perhaps twenty-six, with a round determined face, hair in an elaborate braided crown, and mascara running down both cheeks. "Please. Don't look at me."

"I cannot avoid it. You are in my shop."

"Just... act normal."

"What is normal?"

"I don't know! Sell suya!"

He shrugged. He turned back to the grill. The meat sizzled, fragrant with ginger and groundnut and pepper. A line of customers stood waiting, mostly security guards from the Hilton and a few taxi drivers. Behind the stall, across the road, the hotel blazed with lights. A red carpet unrolled from the entrance. A crowd of photographers jostled by the door.

"Two hundred naira," he said, to the nearest guard.

"Oga, who is she?"

"Who?"

"The woman behind your cooler."

"There is no woman."

"I can see her veil."

Emeka looked down. A tiny tail of white lace was sticking out from under the table. He sighed. He flicked a tea towel over it.

"That is a napkin."

"It's moving."

"It is a very lively napkin."

The guard squinted. Then sirens rang out from the Hilton forecourt. A black convoy swept up the drive, four SUVs with flashing blue lights. Doors slammed. Men in dark suits poured out, speaking into radios.

"Find her," a voice roared. "She cannot have got far."

"Ah," said Emeka. "That explains it."

The bride behind the cooler made a small strangled noise.

"Madam," he said quietly, over his shoulder, "are you perhaps the Senate President's daughter?"

"How..."

"The wedding is on every television in Nigeria." He flipped a stick of meat. "Zuwaira Danjuma and the Minister's son. The wedding of the decade."

"It is a disaster."

"For whom?"

"For me." Her voice cracked. "He is a horrible man. He is forty-one. He has a wife in Dubai. He told my father he wanted a young bride to improve his image."

Emeka's hands stilled. "Your father agreed?"

"My father is a Senate President. He agrees with anyone who has money." She wiped her face. "I told him I'd rather be dead. He said I was being theatrical."

A black-suited man marched along the pavement, scanning the stalls. He reached Emeka's. He stopped.

"You," he said. "Suya boy."

"Yes, sir?"

"Have you seen a woman in a wedding dress?"

Emeka wrapped a stick of suya in newspaper, tied it with string, and handed it over. "One hundred naira, sir."

The man glared. "I asked you a question."

"I am a poor man, sir. I see only meat." He smiled. "If I see a bride, I will tell you."

The man grunted. He tossed a coin on the counter, grabbed the suya and moved on. Emeka waited until his footsteps had faded. Then he lifted the tea towel.

"They've gone."

The Senate President's daughter looked up. She was shaking. Her face was streaked and swollen. But her eyes were wide and brown and fierce, and when she met his gaze, he felt something unexpected click inside him, like a key in a lock.

"Why did you do that?" she whispered.

"Do what?"

"Lie. For me. You don't know me."

"No." He handed her a stick of suya. "But you were on my onions."

She stared at it. Then, in spite of everything, she laughed. It was a damp hiccup of a laugh, startled out of her. She took the stick and bit into it. Her eyes closed.

"Oh my God."

"It is the pepper."

"It is incredible."

"I know."

"I haven't eaten all day." She swallowed. "I was too nervous."

"Then eat." He pushed over a stool. "You can hide here until the convoy leaves. I'll keep watch."

"I don't even know your name."

"Emeka."

"Zuwaira."

"I know."

She smiled. It transformed her face. For a moment, in the smoke and the neon, with torn tulle trailing over his onion sack, the Senate President's daughter looked exactly like a girl on a first date.