Adam was the first name that came to mind when I was asked for a name, and Adam147 was the only available username with lesser numbers. Adam's interest includes traveling, reading, performing surgery, cooking, and Wizkhalifa. His bio says, Breathing... As you do.

In the first picture Adam posted, he wore a lab coat with a stethoscope around his neck. His smile couldn't be detached from his face. The caption said I am here to save lives, not reform. Later, I changed it to, A smile a day lengthens your life. I slept on it and changed it back to the first caption.

In the second picture, he perched on a Lamborghini and wore a turtle neck cardigan carrying a white chihuahua, which he calls Mercy in the caption, like a baby.

In the third picture, a lamp hovered over an opened chest cut enough for the heart to be visible and Adam, clad for surgery, flashed a gloved thumb up. His smile could be felt behind his facemask.

Adam made his first post after uploading the fifth picture. The post was about prostate cancer. After reading googled files on the illness, I typed: out of one hundred men, twenty will get prostate cancer and five will die from it. I copy and paste some tested preventions and clicked send.

The next post was a simple, 'Happy Sunday' with a smiling emoticon.

On Tuesday, Adam made a post about feminism and women empowerment. But I propped more on the nonjudgemental acceptance of men as feminists and attempted to explain that a male feminist would not be biased.
Maybe, it was the hashtags I used or the content of the post or the flashy cars in the third and fourth pictures, maybe it was one of those things, but, something attracted traffic to the post. The comments were unending and the messages kept pouring.

It took me four days to upload another picture.

I checked the profiles of the women who messaged Adam, and most of them identified as feminists. They called me: Handsome. Charming. Prince. Hey. Dude. Nice body. Few gays tried their luck too.

I replied to the ones who overlooked frivolous things and queried me about one sickness or the other. After attending to two people with materials gathered online, I felt guilty and decided to only post to the public and minimize my reply.

The Facebook profile is now seven months old and contributing to my portion of joblessness, I have carefully built it to resemble a doctor's profile-A feminist doctor who likes animals, smiles to show evenly aligned white teeth in sun-bleached pictures, drives flashy cars, and seems physical, spiritually, emotionally and otherwisely fit.

I raise my head from my phone to see a black Benz parked on the lawn before the front door. On cue, dad's cologne wafts into my nose. He was just here or is still around here. The thought barely crosses before a sudden yell jolts me out of my skin. My phone falls to the floor as my hands raise in shock.

"Got you!" he laughs. A black face cap covers his grey afro but the base puffs out below the cap.

He is laughing, but not too hard, and because he doesn't seem into it, it embodies little to no mirth. He is desperate. He hasn't pranked me in years.

He grabs my phone from the floor. "Opss. Your screen has spoilt." He cowers like a kid who faulted. "I didn't mean to, I will get a new one."

"No. Let me see." I take the phone from him. By spoilt, he means cracks wired through the screen. I tap the screen and it unlocks. I tap on other icons to verify the sensitivity of the touchpad and it works just fine. It occurs to me that I do not remember the password for Adam's profile and if anything should happen to my phone I will lose everything.

"It is fine." I lock the screen and face him.

"Hanna told me you went to the mall."

"Yes, I needed to get a brush."

He embraces me and because of the abruptness of the hug, it takes a while before I wrap my hands around him. With my eyes close and his cologne around me, I feel like a kid again, oblivious to the horrors of the world, when the love I knew was pure and my innocence was intact.

"Okay," he breaks off and I notice the undisguised tears on his face which he wipes with the back of his hand. "That was needed." He smiles and wipes tears again.

"What is the problem?" I move closer.

"Nothing. I am just happy to have you as my daughter, and your mum would have been very proud of you."

Yup, definitely moving again.

"Are we moving again?"

"What? No." He guilts trips. He knows it is what he does. "You know, today is our anniversary. Remember?"

Anniversary? Today? May 22? Shit! I know the amnesia is in effect, so I smile and hug him again only to hide my perplexed face.

"Let us go inside, it seems like it wants to rain again." And when he leaves me, he points out my stained shirt like he just notices it. "Did you go to the store like this?"

I shrug.

"And... Why are you not using the estate rides?"

"I have been sitting at home all day, thought it would be nice to stretch my legs."

"That is good. Do you girls exercise at all?"

I nod. "But, not every time." Holding my hands, we walk inside. His palm is like soft bread.

Inside is warm and smells of Jollof rice. Music also plays on a low. The dining table is set and accommodates steaming varieties in trays and covered bowls.
Yetu is at the dining with Chimdi and they speak below the music. Hanna's voice is audible from the kitchen as she sings along to Alicia Keys' Girl on Fire.

"Zere. Zere." Yetu stands and after he hugs me, he compares our height. "You are getting tall. That is Good. Heeehh, Dan, can you see... This girl is almost at my shoulder."

"She has a message to deliver to the sky," Dad says and it tickles their fancy.

"Abeg," Hanna carries a steaming chicken in a tray, "Don't be too tall ohh, girls are not meant to be too tall." she drops the tray among other things

"We can be anyhow." Chimdi defends.

"Shut up abeg, set out the plates," Hanma replies.

"But it is true." Chimdi supports.

"Note taken. I don't have your strength. Just set out the plates. Zere, get the eggs from the kitchen."

In the kitchen, I examine my phone again and in the process I end up on Facebook, skimming a new constructive comment made on my feminist post. Seven months and it still attracts traffic.

"Zere, are you laying the egg?" Chimdi yells from the dining.

I pick up the bowl of already peeled eggs and move back to the dining, taking the last spot beside Chimdi.

Dad doesn't thank 'God' for the food but he says a few words over the food. Hanna dishes the rice and only the fork and the ceramic plates talk.

Yetu sneeze and Dad says, bless you.

"Zere has started painting again," Chimdi says.

"I can see," Dad points to my shirt with his fork. "So, what is it this time?"

Words hook in my mouth. Chimdi and Hanna are equally speechless. I can tell Chimdi wishes she said nothing.

"That is another thousand dollars for you." Yetu saves the conversation.

"No, no, my girl is now a big girl even you testified to that. She gets five now!"

"Five what?" I ask.

"Thousand. Five thousand dollars. Of course, your art is worth more than that."

My eyes widen, Chimdi and Hanna fall agape.

"So, what are you drawing this time?"

I stammer "A... A fac... I don't know yet, it is still a blur."

"I will like to see it.

I pick a glass of water because it is impossible to talk while drinking water. I sip it gently until Hanna asks Dad about his work.

That let me off the hook because dad gets engrossed when talking about work-whatever work is at that moment.

As he eats, he talks and they pay attention but it gives me room to gently drift out, pressing my phone under the table. I am not reading comments or replying to messages, I am on your mum's profile about to message her with Adam's profile. And you better hope she replies.

D E S I R E S

Next chapter on 29/5/22