The Perfection in Love - Part One

Chapter 15 - The Idiosyncrasies of Irene

Irene put the last clove of garlic in the thick pot of stew. From the breakfast nook area, Dele read, his reading glasses sitting comfortably on the bridge of his nose. Irene had no earthly idea why anyone would need a sitting area with couches near the kitchen. What, were they afraid they would die from the walk to the actual living room? Considering how big the house was, Irene definitely understood the importance of having a sitting area in every room of the house. Not.

"Ku ise o, Irene." Dele called out, his voice an almost-yell.

Irene smiled. "Ose, dear."

"Did Baby K Whatsapp you?" Dele called out loudly again.

"Dele, it would be easier to have a conversation if you were sitting closer o." Irene remarked.

"I know. But this chair is very comfortable. When you finish, come and sit down. We can talk then."

Irene shook her head and turned to chuck a kitchen towel at him. "You are not serious."

From the other side of the room, Dele dodged the towel and laughed uproariously in his Dele-like manner.

Still shaking her head, Irene moved to the double sink to wash the stickiness of the garlic extract off her hands.

"I keep forgetting that this tap is automatic," she said with a hiss.

Dele chuckled. "Ara-oko, just put your hand under it."

Irene rolled her eyes. "Thank you. I am well aware."

She continued. "Why does anyone need a touchless tap anyway? It's a waste of money."

Dele frowned slightly. "Irene..." he chided gently. "It's her matrimonial home. Let her do it however she wants to."

Irene dried her hands with a wad of paper towels. "She is still my baby, Dele."

"I know; but at what point do we hands off?"

"We don't." Irene said simply.

Dele sighed, with the weight of an old argument. He switched to Yoruba. "We have trained her; it's time for her to use that training."

Irene pursed her lips. "Why don't you tell that to Eli the high priest? His sons were not children anymore, yet God expected him to put them right."

"This is not the same thing and you know it. What has Oyin done now that requires us to 'put her right?'" Dele retorted, his fingers bending in air quotes.

Irene eyed him angrily. "You know what, and you know you don't like it too, so don't make me the witch that is always complaining."

Dele sighed resignedly. "Irene, it has been a year now. They are obviously happy together. Leave it be."

"E gba mi o" Irene thought.

"Didn't you see Oyin crying the other day?"

Dele had a patronizing look on his face, and Irene was tempted off to wipe it off with a slap. Here she was, expressing a valid concern and he was looking at her as if she was a child throwing a tantrum.

Dele put his book on the corner stool next to him and beckoned to her, his hand bent in the universal sign for "come here."

That further frustrated Irene; she almost pulled her hair out.

I am not one of your students, she wanted to scream.

Instead, she planted her feet firmly on the ground, and crossed her hands over her chest.