THINGS IN BETWEEN

3

This is absolute nonsense, I grumbled holding on tight to my hand bag while trying to withstand the pain that was running through my leg and the receptionist kept asking me if I have an appointment with my aunty.

"I do," I answered feeling insulted. Does she think I will come all the way here without being invited? She tapped on the keyboard placed before her and asked for my name.

"Tamilore, Tamilore Oyetayo," I replied and grimaced.

"Sorry but your name isn't on the list of people she is expecting today," She said and looked away from me.

"Can't you at least call her? She told me to come, she has even been expecting me but I had some things to attend to."

"All the same, your name is not here. I have been given strict instructions not to let strangers in," She replied.

"Any means of identification?" She asked me and I dipped my hand into my bag, remembering the card she had forgotten on the chair the day she came to visit. I gave it to her and watched her open her mouth agape as she called her using the intercom.

"Okay ma, I will let her in ma." She muttered almost going down on her kneels. I kept thanking my stars that I was wise enough to keep the card.

She handed me another golden coloured card to swipe by the door, without even apologising for the delay and literarily snatched it out of her reach and hurriedly walked to the lift that took me to the first floor. I  swiped the card on the surface of the door as instructed and the door opened. I followed the flowery rugged passage and came face to face with my aunty who was seated behind an office table, Her face plastered with a foundation slightly different from her dark skin colour, her eyes pierced through me like inferred light as I approached her. At a corner of the room were several awards placed on a shelf. Wow! She must be really hard working, I thought as I quickened my steps towards her. A few steps away from where she sat were too cushion chairs.

"Finally you are here," She announced joyously and placed her hand on the table as she helped her self up from the chair. She walked closer to me and looked me all over. From the packing gel hair style on my head to my pointed, dusty, heeled black shoes.

"Good afternoon ma," I greeted her and knelt down like a respectful Yoruba girl that I am.

"I can see you are smarter than I thought,"

"I don't understand that ma." I asked uncertain of what she meant by me being smart.

"You found what I left for you." She said and  walked to the sofa placed at the far end of the room, she waved to me and I followed her. Stylishly like the drama queen that she is, she sat down on the sofa and I sat opposite her.

"You mean the card?" I asked when I realised that it didn't fall from her bag as I thought, instead she left it there for me to see.

"That is my way of knowing if you are aware of what to do when you can't contact me." She smiled, while I stared at her not finding anything she said funny. She clicked several numbers on the intercom beside her and asked the person at the other side to bring her some refreshments. I looked around and saw a painting on the wall, a painting very much like the one my parents used to own but one of our family members took it along after the funeral.

"I can see you recognize that?" She asked me as soon as she dropped the call. How am I supposed not to recognize what was so dear to my parents. My mum was a lover of good paintings and according to her, she bought that on her first visit to Korea and now it ended up in my aunty's office.

"This used to be in our living room." I stood up, walked to the painting that was hung behind one of the cushion chair and traced it with my fingers. To my mum, this particular painting is a meaning to life. Feeling nostalgic, tears dropped from my eyes and I felt my aunty holding her hand around me.