Grace (BWWM)

Chapter Nineteen

This chapter was originally part of the previous one but due to the length, I broke it into two parts. Also, there is some Nigerian lingo here (and in the next chapter as well) so I have provided explanations to them (in alphabetical order) at the end of both chapters. Forgive me if I missed anything, and feel free to let me know.

Enjoy!

♣

The others must be there already. Victoria absolutely hates tardiness and doesn't put up with the notorious Nigerian time. As such, she invites everyone three hours before the party started so that everyone who would normally be late would actually be there on time. Her plan always works, and when we get to the park, we're one of the last ones.

"She's not going to be happy," I mutter.

"That's why I made her favorite this time," Grace says, talking about the sausage rolls in one of the trays we're bringing. "I needed a good bribe."

"Or maybe we should just get here on time next time," I say, and she looks at me as if that's an absurd statement.

"I'm Nigerian, Joe."

"Silly me, I must have forgotten."

"Eh hen, don't ever go forgetting that," she says, pretending to be stern, but she cracks a smile. "I'll try to do that next time," she says, and the twins and I exchange a look, knowing full well we'll be late next year again.

"Right," I say. We hop out of the car and follow the loud music and the smells. Children run past, a few of them prostrating and greeting all of us. Grace asks them about their parents and the kids point to the main area where most of everyone is. We cross the lush green grass and finally reaching the place where all of the hustle and bustle is.

Loud greetings are exchanged, and hugs are shared with welcoming smiles. I remember the first time I came and how everyone had stared, amazed that I could dance and that I ate their now-familiar cuisine. That automatically won them over, and now I'm a more than welcomed guest as an oyinbo man—a white man.

I set the food down and move to the elders, prostrating and winning their hearts as I do every year. This never ceases to amaze them. I ask about their well-being once they usher me back up and we exchange greetings. I then move on to greet Victoria and her husband, Kayode.

Rose is helping a few of the younger kids out with plating their food, but she spots me and comes over with a smile to greet me. I ask her about school, as I'm still in front of her parents. I make sure to congratulate her on her many achievements, noting how her mother glows at that. But I also see how her dad glances at his daughter, noting her robotic responses.

Rose is living for her mother, but not herself. She's planning to go to medical school, already looking into internships she can do with hospitals in the area while in med school to gain experience. She's in all the honor classes her school can offer,and she's also taken up a job in a hospital as a nursing assistant, planning to climb the ladder in that way.

I can't even bring myself to smile. These things would make a parent proud, but it's obvious that her heart isn't in them. I remember Austin would always ask her what she wanted to do, and she would respond that she wantedto be a nurse—a midwife. But unfortunately, she thinks that's not good enough for her mother.

Her parents had immigrated here and worked so hard to make this life that they now have. They struggled back in Nigeria, and they struggled their first few years here, holding multiple jobs at the same time to save up money to afford the things they needed. Rose doesn't take that for granted, especially with how often her mother brings it up.

I've spoken to Kayode about this, and he's expressed that he's fine with his daughter's dream job. He wants her to be successful, but he also wants her to be happy. Because he's a few years younger than me, I was able to advise him to be careful with the situation and let Rose know his thoughts. This is one place that my age is an advantage. If I were younger, I wouldn't be able to advise him like I did; their culture places a lot of emphasis on respect.