“Add more water to those yams,” Fikayo’s mother instructed.

She did so swiftly. Her heart was heavy, knowing her father would be home soon. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she had convinced herself that it would now be easier to face him but it did not seem so. Here in the kitchen with her mother and sister, cooking his favourite meal, she thought of spitting in his food, putting too much salt or even poisoning him. Yes, she was now a Christian but it did cross her mind. The hatred she harboured for him was still existent, probably even intensified.

“Fikayo, taste the egusi to see if the salt is okay.”

The salt was okay. She was tempted to pour more salt into it. The man did not deserve to eat talk more of a sumptuous meal of pounded yam and egusi soup. Good reasoning overshadowed her evil thoughts so she added the right amount of extra spices.

Sweat beads dotted her forehead as she carried the dishes to the dining table an hour later. They had had to make cat fish pepper soup after pounding the yams. Her mother wanted her father happy.

“Maybe then he’ll see no reason to go outside again. No man can resist good food,” she had said, her face shiny with sweat, her hands hitting the pestle on the yam in the mortar.

She wondered what degree of foolishness her mother had attained, maybe a master’s degree or a doctorate. She was most likely a PhD holder in foolishness. If good food was enough for her father, wouldn’t it have kept him home all these years? The man was a psycho. Simple.

“How are you, Fikayo?” her pot bellied father asked, his gaze fixed on the newspaper in his hand, his glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

“Fine sir.”

She placed the dishware containing the pepper soup right before him, straightening up afterwards. He nodded, flipping the newspapers. If only she could empty the pepper soup on his ugly face; pepper will dance in his eyes and she will dance internally too.

“Yes, you have to fill Babcock’s application form this weekend.” He informed, looking up at her. Their eyes met for a second and she threw daggers at him in that short time, before shifting her gaze to the table.

“Okay, sir,” she responded simply.

“I’m spending a lot on you girls. You have to do well academically. I don’t want average results. See how your sister finished with a first class. That’s what I want and I must get that.”

Of course, Gbenga Adeyele gets what Gbenga Adeyele wants!

She pursed her lips, willing herself not to speak. Her tongue could be as sharp as a knife’s blade. She turned to leave but his voice stopped her in her tracks.

“You told your mother,” his tone was hard and she imagined him glaring at her back. She did not turn around. “She told me. She doesn’t believe you,” he laughed in mockery.

“Get me some water now,” he finished.

Her feet were glued to the floor for a few seconds, tears blurring her vision.
She heard him chuckle lowly. “Make it quick, lady.”

She inhaled deeply, taking quick steps to her room. Behind the closed door, she pulled out a cigarette pack and brought a stick. Her heart beating wildly, she pulled open her bedside drawer taking out a lighter.

I can’t believe I’m about to do this
I shouldn’t be doing this

“I can’t be free,” she whispered. “I can’t. I need this,” she cried, lowering her form on the bed.

You have been made righteous. You have been set free. Christ has redeemed you from the curse of sin. You have power over it. Believe it. Declare it.

Those words replayed in her head as she lit the stick that was already in between her lips.
Romans six – these words floated into her mind. Romans six? She didn’t own a bible. She threw the lighter to the floor, picked up her phone and searched the scripture. She started reading and stopped at the fourth verse.

Therefore we were buried with Him through baptism into death, that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life.

Newness of life. She read speedily, her body trembling, the cigarette stick still in her mouth. Halfway through the chapter, she removed the cigarette from her mouth, holding it in her other hand. The penultimate verse struck her and she felt a wave of strength overcome her.

Having been set free from sin
Slaves of God
Fruit to holiness

She was free from sin, dead to it and alive to God in Christ. She was no longer held bound by a lit cigarette stick. She didn’t need to feel high to be at peace. She was free. Tears gushed out of her eyes like rain on a June morning, her body quivering.

***
“You’re so annoying, Fire!” she shouted, bending her mouth into a pout. Fire tried to hug her. She hit her hand and hissed, pushing her away.

“If you’re not going with me then don’t hug me, silly.”

Fire grinned. “See your tiny mouth,” she reached for her mouth and squeezed it. Fikayo struggled to pull her hand down. “I’m not your mate, young lady. Say sorry.”

“No,” her voice came out muffled. Fire slapped her mouth before removing her hand.

“Please go with me, Fiiiiireeee, my darling sister,” she pleaded, looking at her sister with puppy dog eyes.

“Kò lè work my dear. You’ll be fine. Bring food from the party for me,” she laughed, bending to hit her thigh.

Fikayo glared at her in feign anger.

“Let’s pick out your outfit, baby.”

Fire threw her wardrobe open and began searching through, flinging some clothes on the bed.

Mrs Nnadi had invited Fikayo to her husband’s birthday party but she didn’t want to go alone. She’d have to anyway, since Fire was unwilling. Her father had gone only two days after his arrival. Her mother had hoped he would be back the next weekend but her hopes had been dashed. Two weeks had passed now and the woman was back to her gloom. They decided on a pink and white cold shoulder blouse paired with white jean trousers. She wore her pink and grey sneakers and stuffed her pockets with money, her phone in hand. She sprayed some perfume and playfully sprayed some on Fire who hit her hand and hijacked the perfume bottle from her, placing it in its rightful position.

“I hate your perfume,” she twisted her mouth in displeasure. “I don’t know why you like strong fragrances.”

“Whatever. I’m going,” she said with a wave of her hand.

“Wait wait wait,” Fire shouted when she got to the door. “Where’s your wig, Fikayo?”

Fikayo ran a hand over her cornrows, shrugging. “So? I know now. I want to be free.”

“Ehn?”

Fire marched to her dressing table and snatched her curly wig from the chair.

“If that is your definition of freedom, then you cannot be free o!” she exclaimed dramatically, eyes wide.

When she reached her, she sat the wig on her head and adjusted it. She ran her hands over the sides before pulling at her cheeks.

“You need some lip gloss,” she suggested, smiling.

“No,” Fikayo shook her head vehemently. “What I need is to leave this house effective immediately.”

***
Gospel music played softly in the living room where about ten guests were seated. Chairs from the dining had been placed there as the sofas were not enough to seat the guests. People were coming and going, not staying for long. She had expected it to be a full blown party only to find few guests and soft music playing. She had been here for less than an hour and was now in the kitchen with Kaima and two other ladies who were serving guests. Kosi, who was supposed to do the dishes, had run off to binge watch TV shows upstairs so she was doing it in her stead.

One of the ladies dropped two used plates and a glass cup in the sink, her arm slightly brushing hers.

“Well done, dear,” the lady smiled at her before turning to the island where coolers of food where lined.

Fikayo sat on a high stool by the island after clearing the dishes and pulled her phone out of her right pocket. She swiped it open and tapped the Instagram app icon. She tapped on the first story that appeared at the top, tapping and swiping as she viewed the posts. She got to Sharon’s story, a video of her smoking shisha and shaking her butt to a Davido song. She hadn’t smoked for weeks but sometimes felt the urge to do so. Thankfully, she hadn’t succumbed to it but at times like this, she itched to get a grip of a cigarette, light it up and smoke. She tapped on the small icon housing her picture at the top and unfollowed her. She did not need to view posts that would lead her into temptation.

“Hi,” a voice said startling her. She jumped back slightly in fear. Raising her head and meeting his smiling eyes, she chuckled.

“You scared me.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder for a moment and her heart started racing. He drew a stool back beside her and dropped into it.

“You look like a cockroach would scare you,” he teased.

“Then you don’t know anything about me, Ike.”

“Let me let you in on a secret,” he leaned forward towards her. “I am actually terrified of cockroaches.”

“Yes, and of chickens and dogs and cats,” Mrs Nnadi voiced out.

She turned to her, laughing and also admiring the woman’s ageless beauty. Her long dark brown weave framed her face and the red lipstick she applied, which was the only makeup on her face, maybe except powder, made her face pop. Her white shirt dress reached her knee and black flip flops graced her pedicured feet.

“Mum, you look so beautiful,” he complimented, standing to hug and peck her.

“You’ve been in hiding since. What have you been doing in your room?” she questioned, ignoring his compliment.

A lady she hadn’t seen before came to whisper something in Mrs Nnadi’s ear while she kept nodding. When the lady left, she repeated her question.

“Mummy, I was working, stuff I should have done yesterday.”

She frowned. “Kílódé, you’re just an intern. Why do you have so much work?”

He shrugged, touched his ear lobe briefly and let out a breath. His mother rubbed his head affectionately before turning her attention to Kaima who was dishing jollof rice into a white plate.

“Where do you work?” Fikayo asked.
He mentioned the company’s name. It was not familiar to her so she asked what the company did.

“It’s a tech company, so we do software product development, design websites, build systems and stuff like that.”

“Let me guess, you’re studying Computer science?”

He smiled, flashing his dimples and nodded.

“What school?”

“Babcock. How about you? You’re in school?”

She shook her head. “Nah, but I applied to Babcock. Hopefully, I’ll be joining y’all this August.”

Why was he still smiling? The boy smiled too much, just like Fire.

“Uh...you know,” he let out a nervous laugh, playing with his ear. “You’re really beautiful.”



...
Do I smell love in the air?😂😂
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