The interior of the house didn't suprise Sugar as much. It was big and seemed expensive but the only difference was that this house actually looked lived in. Most fancy house she usually got to see the interior of usually looked like a show room.
Here the sofa was mustard and the armchair was teal and there was just a mixture of stuff like that theat didn't look like they'd go together normally but it just looked good. The persian rug in the middle was stark white but the tiles were a shade of brown that resembled wood. Dark wood.
A grey flannel was draped on the armchair that he plopped on lazily. He rubbed his already red eyes with his thumb and index fingers. It made Sugar want to get out of his hair as soon as possible.
"Can you hear me?" He asked
Sugar shook her head shifting her weight to her left foot.
"I said you can drop it on the center table. I'll take it into the kitchen later" he repeated
"Sorry. You have to check the plates and sign that you got them" Sugar said dropping the basket on the table
"Whatever" he said standing up. He wobbled a little on his feet and stretched. He walked to the table she had placed the basket on. Beside it she placed the receipt book. Sugar had already filled out the details of the receipt, the man just had to sign in two places on two separate pieces of paper.
"Sign here please" Sugar mumured
He picked up the pen and scribbled on the paper.
Sugar mumbled her thanks as she tore the receipt off the clipboard and placing the sheet in the basket stop one of the plastic containers.
"I hope you order again soon" Sugar said the line that she had said over and of to a million clients, "I'll be leaving." sugar gestured to the door.
"Sure", the man said as he blinked, shook his headand gripped the edge of the counter tightly.
Sugar stared at him worried, ''Are you Okay? " she asked
"Yeah... uhmm.... "he murmured something in cohesive, his fingers slipped off the edge he was holding and he came crashing down to the ground.
"Jesus!" Sugar screamed. In seconds her clipboard was on the floor and she was by his side.
"Hey" she called as she tapped him. "hey" she shook him "is he passed out or... " she mumbled, "I don't even know his name"
She fussed searching for something. Anything. How to wake him up, who to call? Her leg was hurting but she wasn't going to leave him here passed out. She put her nose to his face. He didn't smell of alcohol. So he wasn't drunk.
"Water. Water" she mumbled. Scrambling to her feet she searched the kitchen for a plate or anytype of container. Not finding any easily accessible, she settles for a cup she found lying on the work top.
She filled the cup with water and soon she was crouched down beside him again.
She sprinkled the water on his forehead deciding that drenching his hole face in a glass of water wasn't a good idea.
He didn't stir.
Oh God is he dead?
Her brain began the endless journey into the process that was talking to herself. Sugar knew she had an active imagination. She knew she spaced out often. It wasn't had to pray that this wasn't one of those moments. That she wouldn't be snapped back to reality and she that she had drenched the guy who's name she didn't know in water.
She sprinkled more on his face
He didn't move.
He's dead. Her brain registered.
He's very dead. He's about to start decaying. I should run out of here.
The third time, he gasped and coughed. His eyes opened lazily.
Oh thank God. Her Brian registered again
"Sit up" she said to him as she helped him to sit up, "Are you okay?"
He didn't answer
"do you need anything? Water, for instance?"
He stared at her, didn't say a word.
Sugar got another glass filled it with water and gave it to him to drink.
He drank it hesitantly.
She stared as he got up from the floor a and rubbed his eyes. He gripped the edge of the work top again. Sugar suspected he was still a bit woozy.
But he was awake. She had to go. She was in pain and she was pretty sure her limb had begun to swell.
"Uhm..." She began as she watched the man make his way back to the armchair he was sitting on initially. She followed him as she spoke, "if you're fine I have to get going." She said
"Mmh mmh" he shook his head, "Stay"
"What?" Sugar replied, "No I can't"
"Why? Do you have anymore deliveries for the day?"
"No but erm... " She stopped when she noticed he was staring at her.
"Why are you limping?" He asked his brows furrowed.
"Nothing it's nothing." She argued
"You're limping. Are you in pain?" he asked. He almost sounded concerned. Sugar shook the thought off her mind.
"I have to go" she mumbled making for the door again.
"Wait." he held her hand, "Thank you. For helping me. Can I pay you?"
"Please." he said, "you look like you're in pain and I want to say thank you. "
"You said thank you already. You can just buy more from the company to show your gratitude. I need a job to survive." she limped towards the door, "Enjoy your meal" she said as she opened the door and stepped out. The taxi meter was running and she was sure she was going to pay almost ten thousand naira.
"Shit" she cursed as she limped as fast as she could to the taxi. She was careful not to rest all her weight on her right leg.
"Thank you you for keeping you waiting"
"It's no problem. The meter is running" the cab driver replied
"Ikorodu" she replied shutting the door. The man moved back into the road, headed back to the mainland.
The meter read 7500 at this point and she was pleasantly surprised that it wasn't higher than that.
Sugar leaned back against the back rest of the car and closed her eyes willing herself to dream.
What would be if she had met "Mr faints a lot" at other events.
Maybe she'd be a waitress at a place he'd been eating at and she'd spilled water on his shirt.
Or they'd reach out for the last cartons of milk from the aisle at shop rite at the same time.
Or he'd almost run her over with his car like they did in the movies.
She sighed. Those movies. The girls were perfect looking even if they didn't think they were and she hated that.
There was no place for a disabled girl in a story like that.
She pursed her lips and blew air out of them softly.
A wish would always be that...
YOU ARE READING
Just a Little SugarGeneral Fiction
Updates every Sunday 😉 Sugar has always been bullied. Her name didn't help matters at all. Why her mother called her Sugar she had no idea. Maybe it was her inclination to the sweets. Her love for confectionery and baking. Sugar had problems. Her...