One Hour to the Altar

"No," said Temi.

"I have not said anything yet."

"You have a face that is about to say something, and the answer is no."

Kachi Okonkwo sat across from her and folded his hands. He did it carefully, the way people do when they are used to being obeyed and are trying, with effort, to ask. "Your mother is in Lagos University Teaching Hospital. Ward C. Kidney failure. The dialysis costs three hundred and eighty thousand naira per session, three times a week, and the transplant list will take years. You have been paying for it by planning weddings, selling your car, and borrowing from a cooperative that charges thirty percent."

The room went very quiet.

"You looked into my family," Temi said.

"I looked into everyone connected to today. It is called due diligence." He did not blink. "I am not proud of it, and I am not going to threaten you with it. I am offering you a contract. Marry me today. Stay married for twelve months. At the end, an annulment, quiet and dignified. In return, fifty million naira, and your mother's treatment, transplant included, in the best hospital in Lagos or abroad, whichever the doctors recommend."

Temi heard her own heartbeat. It sounded like someone walking down a staircase.

"That is insane."

"Yes."

"That is also... that is... you do not even know me."

"I know you built a six hundred seat ballroom from nothing in nineteen days when the Eze wedding collapsed. I know you refuse tips from drivers. I know you cried in the car park at the end of the Balogun funeral, because you still believe in people. I know you are tired." He paused. "I do not need a wife who loves me. I need a wife who is honest, calm under pressure, and kind to staff. Kindness is rarer than money. I can only buy one of them."

Her eyes burned. She hated him for noticing. She hated more that he was right about the car park.

"What if I say no?"

"Then I will lose my grandmother's company, and you will lose a client, and neither of us will ever speak of this again." His voice stayed level but his thumb pressed hard into his palm. "But I think you would regret it. And I would. More than I have words for."

"Why me? You could pay any woman in this city."

"Any woman in this city would sell the story to a blog before the honeymoon. You would not."

Temi stood and went to the window. The lagoon was turning pink where the sun came up through the haze. Somewhere below, a delivery truck was reversing, beeping. Somewhere across the city, in Ward C, her mother was asleep with a tube in her arm and a little photo of Temi on the locker.

"I need to call the hospital," she said.

"Of course."

"I need to see it in writing."

"My lawyer is downstairs. He is the most boring man in Nigeria. He will draft it in forty minutes."

"I need..." She turned around. "I need you to promise me something."

"If I can."

"You will not touch me. You will not use my mother's treatment as a leash. And if I say stop, at any point, we stop, and the money still goes to the hospital."

Kachi was silent. Then he stood, crossed the room, and offered his hand. It was warm, steady, and not as cold as his face.

"You have my word," he said. "And Miss Adebayo? Thank you."

She shook it, and instantly felt that she had signed away something she did not have the name for yet.

Outside the door, Bola was crouched with her ear pressed to the wood, whisper-screaming into a phone. "Auntie, I am telling you. She is saying yes. She is saying yes to Kachi Okonkwo. No, I am not joking. Go and tell the church!"

Temi opened the door. Bola fell into the room.

"Bola," said Temi, with great calm. "Find me a dress."