ᴡᴀʟʟғʟᴏᴡᴇʀ

3 | Reasonable conversation

I just didn't have a definite answer.

Maybe because I saw her looking distressed and so out of it after hearing her laugh like she had zero worries or maybe, it was something else.

Sympathy? Benevolence?

Damn, I wasn't even close to being sympathetic or benevolent! Khalid once said I could pass a dying man and wouldn't give two fucks cos I was always minding my business.

Groaning for the umpteenth time that day, I kicked the damn basket. I was thankful she didn't recognize me, thankful I'd slid on the shirt once I'd left the beach. If not, that would have been a whole different case.

I didn't want to come off as a creep who'd stared at her and was also offering her a ride.

Shaking off the chills that ran down my body, I headed to the bathroom. The island was big enough to keep us in separate locations. I hoped, crossing my fingers and counting on never seeing her again.

After a quick bath, I headed downstairs and straight to the kitchen on only a grey sweatpant.

Mum would flip if she found me shirtless in the middle of her sacred kitchen.

She'd start her sixty minutes lecture on blood, bones and cold weathers.

Mrs Mary, our house keeper had already prepared dinner and it was only four-thirty. Mum loved having dinner at six, anything more would have her stuffing fruits into her body. I guess keeping fit came with a price.

I opened the first stainless lid and holy shit! My nose got assaulted with an aroma that could cause worms to leap for joy.

She'd prepared fishstew. A favorite of mum and I.

I didn't need a soothsayer to let me know that there was vegetable and egg sauce and white rice next to it.

Sitting down, I stacked my plate and was set to dig in before Mrs Mary entered the kitchen, all dressed and ready to leave.

"Good evening ma." I greeted, with my mouth full. Table manners flying off the window.

She smiled fondly at me, as she took in the sight of me enjoying her food.

Mrs Mary was a woman of few words and that was one out of the numerous reasons why I liked her. She wasn't a chatterbox like most house keepers were, she reserved that energy to make the meanest dishes.

Although she had no blood ties with us, mum treated her like family and since we weren't in touch with our relatives in Nigeria, mum usually invited her and her family over during festive periods.

I wasn't complaining. As far they knew their limits with me.

"Evening Soma. How's the food?"

"Delicious!" I mouthed, giving her a thumbs up.

"I'm glad you like it." She beamed. "Eat slowly dear."

I grinned, while she headed to the sink.

"You going already?"

"Yes." She answered, while washing her hands. She always did that. "See you tomorrow."

After drying her hands, she turned to me.

"Lock up."

I nodded, not bothering to correct her that the Baba would see to it.

After eating to my satisfaction, I craved a fresh drink which led me to the fridge. Where I laid my eyes to my greatest nightmare.

I might be exaggerating a little, but God, I hated shopping malls.

On the fridge was a sticky note, with mum's handwriting listing out orders.