“This woman is not picking up. It’s like she wants to be mad.”

Fikayo was vibrating in anger, shaking both legs. It was Monday evening already but the client from Friday was yet to send her money. Fire was seating beside her in bed and crossed her legs, her feet tucked beneath her thighs. She remained silent as she watched her sister fume. Few moments later, Fikayo was on her feet pacing the width of Fire’s room, her face scrunched up.

“Fikayo, calm down. Maybe she’s somewhere she cannot pick the call in. Why not send a text message? And then we’ll wait and see how it goes. Okay?” came her sister’s soft voice.

“Ah I’ve done mistake o,” she hissed, halting her movement. She faced Fire hands akimbo, tapping her right foot on the ground incessantly.

“I can’t let go of eight thousand naira. Eight K!” she exclaimed, leaning towards her sister.

“Calm down,” Fire said. “Even if you can’t get the money from her, I’ll give it to you. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t tell me not to worry,” she snapped, turning her face to the side.

“Then stop stomping your foot on the ground, biko. This anger solves nothing. Thank God you know the lady’s house, although I’ll advise you go when you’ve cooled down if not you might just get beaten up. You don’t know the kind of person she is. Ehn, she could be a werey o, like you said. I won’t clean your wounds when they beat you black and blue.”

“You’re not helping,” Fikayo cried out in a loud voice.

A smile graced Fire’s face as she shifted on the bed.
“Fiks, you might want to keep your voice down unless of course you want to invite mummy into the matter. “
Fire let out a laugh at her sister’s deepened frown. She rose and walked to her, then pulled her into a hug. Fikayo’s arms hung idly at her sides as she stubbornly refused to hug her back.

Fire chuckled and rubbed her back, cradling her head on her shoulder.
“Sorry, mama. I’ll give you the money if you can’t get it back.”

Fikayo drew back from the embrace, nodding in a child like manner.

Fire held unto her hand. “Look, as a business woman, you have to have tough skin. Things like this are bound to happen especially in this line of business. You’re dealing with all kinds of women. Brace up for things like this and probably worse. You’ve learnt your lesson, that’s what is important.” She shrugged and continued.

“Smile, Fiks, I love you,” Fire declared and Fikayo felt the urge to cry. Her eyes began to water. She wanted to open up to her sister but didn’t know how to or if she should. Her sister drew her in again, patting her back before withdrawing to wipe her tears away with both her thumbs.

Tell her, Just tell her, she implored herself.
“Umm Fire, I...Uh when,” she hesitated. Settling back at the edge of the bed, she avoided her sister’s gaze.

“What’s up?” She could hear the concern in her voice but couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth, as though it had been taped. She shook her head dumbly.

“Fikayo, you know you can tell me anything. Absolutely anything. What’s on your mind?” Fire probed but she didn’t budge.

“Fikayo, talk to me, there’s something wrong!”

“I’m good, Fire,” she said in a low voice, standing. “I want to get something to eat. A snack or any umm anything Iono.”

She left quickly, afraid she would blurt it out. She was afraid of keeping it to herself and dealing with it alone forever. She was also afraid of letting it out. She was too afraid.

Back in her room, behind her locked door, tears flowed freely. She lit a cigarette. As she took puffs and blew out the smoke, she imagined she was blowing away the memories that hunted her, the pain that stole her happiness.

***
It was the second Sunday in May and she arrived at her favourite client’s residence at 2pm to make both Kaima and her mother’s hair. Kaima wanted simple thin cornrows she could place her wigs over while Mrs Nnadi wanted medium sized bra length braids.
She was served jollof rice and peppered turkey and did not hesitate to break the turkey bones. She was quite comfortable with them and did not feel the need to ‘form’ in order to impress them. Yes, she had a little crush on Ike but even that couldn’t stop her from crushing the bones.

“I can see you like the food,” Pastor Nnadi said. He was the coolest Pastor she had ever met...not like she had met many anyway.

She grinned. “Yes, sir. It’s absolutely delicious.”

“Ike did a good job then,” Kaima said, smirking at her brother who had been quiet. He seemed to be a man of few words. For a minute, she wondered what he thought of her. She wanted to get his attention.

“Ike cooked these?! Wow. You dey cook o!”

The room was filled with laughter, including Ike’s.

“Thanks.” He met her eyes and she smiled, suddenly becoming shy. She wasn’t one to be shy, what was wrong with her? She couldn’t let this boy get into her head.

“So how was service today?” Mrs Nnadi asked, scooping a spoonful of jollof rice.

“Umm,” she cleared her throat.
She didn’t want to ‘form’ to impress them but that was only with regards to eating etiquettes. She couldn’t let them believe she was not God-fearing even though that was exactly what she was- not God-fearing.

“It was good, ma.”

“What church do you attend?”came Pastor Nnadi’s calm voice.

“Redeemed,” the lie rolled out of her tongue effortlessly.

She desperately hoped they didn’t ask of her parish. If they did, she’d be tongue-tied and her cover will be blown.

“That’s good,” he nodded and silence fell.

When they were done eating, she attempted to carry her plates to the kitchen but was stopped by Pastor Nnadi.

“Koko, help her with that,” he instructed. Kosi pouted as she rose from her seat. Ike and Kosi cleared the table while Kaima went to get everything they needed for their hairdos.
She started with Kaima’s cornrows and was done in about forty five minutes.

“Kosisochukwu!” Mrs Nnadi called out when she was about to start her hair. There was no response so she yelled again.

“Maaaaa!” Kosi shouted back in response. She ran in seconds later.

“Baby, come and help us with the attachments.”

“Oooooh,” Kosi whined, tramping loudly.

“Iremide, please, your sister is busy.”
It intrigued her that their mum called them by both their Yoruba and Igbo names.

Kosi folded her arms on her chest and pouted. “Mummy now! I’m watching a movie.”

“Iremide, what’s wrong with you? Common, sit there and help Fikayo with the attachment!” Mrs Nnadi chided.

This was the only time she had seen her close to anger. Fikayo handed the already picked out attachment to Kosi who grudgingly collected it, her face contorted in a deep frown.

“Don’t worry, Koko. I’ll do it. Go watch your movie,” Ike said, standing at the entrance. Kosi did not wait one second before flinging the extensions in her hand on the chair and running inside.

“Look at how she just carelessly threw the extensions. I’ll deal with her later!” Mrs Nnadi expressed, frowning.

“Mummy, just leave Koko. You know how she is,” Ike said.

“Stop defending your sister!” his mother snapped. It seemed she wasn’t taking any nonsense today. “She’s been behaving silly today. Better talk to her.”
Ike shook his head slightly, chuckling as he reached Fikayo’s side.

“Hi Fiks,” he greeted, flashing a charming smile.

Oh God, he is so fine! Damn!

“Fiks?” She was surprised he called her by her nickname.

He picked up the attachment and straightened up, the smile still on his face.

“Am I not allowed to call you that?”
She smiled, feeling shy. “You can. I was just wondering where you heard that from.”

“Kaima called you that the last time you were here,” he explained, touching his hair.

While she worked, Ike popped random questions like when and how she learnt braiding, if she combined the business with school. She wondered why he was suddenly interested in talking to her. Perhaps he liked her, she mused. It seemed farfetched, she later concluded. There was no way in hell he could like someone as ordinary as her.

By five thirty pm, she was done with the job and left for home almost immediately. She didn’t want a repeat of what had happened the last time and that made her board an okada instead of tricycles or shuttle buses.

At home, Fire unlocked the door for her and greeted her before walking into the kitchen. Fikayo followed suit and found their mother stirring a pot of soup on fire.

“Good evening, ma,” she bent her knees slightly.

“Pèlé, how are you? You came early today. When will you start sharing this money you’re making with us?”

Fikayo chuckled, shaking her head.

“Mummy abeg o, the money is for me and Fiks,” Fire joked, laughing hard.

“Oya, go and change so you can join us in the kitchen,” her mother instructed.

“Mummy, I’m tired. I need to rest. Fire will continue helping you. Please, ma,” she pleaded, making a tired face in hopes that it would convince her mother to let her go. There was no way in hell she was going to join them in cooking when her back was aching from bending and her feet, from standing for long.

“Lai lai,” her mother shook her head. “Drop your bag, change and come and join us. You’re going to eat part of this food so you have to.”

“I’d rather not eat then. I’ll just take cornflakes or something,” she said defiantly.

Her mum was being unfair to her. Why couldn’t she be considerate? She started walking out of the kitchen.

“You must come back here, Fikayo! Fire, warn your sister not to step on my toes this evening!”

She ignored her mother as she exited the kitchen.

“Let her do her worst,” she said out loud when she was out of earshot.

...
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