PRESIDENT'S SON AND I

8: Garden Tradition

ZAFIR

We heard the sound of someone gasping and turned to the direction at the same time. There she stood, with her hands dramatically placed on her chest as she stared at us open mouthed. I had totally forgotten about her, honestly. And what the hell was she doing here after I've made it clear that she should do all she could to make sure she avoided meeting me?

The moment our eyes met, she ducked her head down and took a step back. "I'm sorry," she apologized to no one in particular. "I got scared, thinking something happened." She turned to leave, probably after seeing we were fine and that it was just football trying to play with us.

I turned my attention back to the TV and expected the same from Jamal, but trust him to always do what he shouldn't. "Wait, Nasrin!" He called out to her and stood up with the remaining samosa in his hand, which was what caught my attention, actually.

"Where are you taking that to?" I asked him in one breath and he turned to me with a look.

"I'm giving it to her, aren't you full?" He asked and didn't wait for my answer before he walked to her and I was left there, mouth hanging to the floor.

"Jamal, I'm hungry and not full yet." I complained, just when she had strained her hand to collect it from him. She froze midway and stared between me and him and took another step back.

"What do you mean? You've cooked, didn't you?" He asked the last question to her and she nodded her head without meeting my gaze.

"You expect me to eat what she cooked? Please bring the samosa back, if she's hungry, she can eat what she cooked." I don't care if what I've said would hurt her or not, all that I know is, I'm not going to eat what she cooked, ever. And I'm starving.

"Give it to him, I'm full, actually." And she walked back into the room she had supposedly made hers, even though I haven't even told her which room to occupy.

Jamal stared between the closed door and me before he turned and placed it on my laps. "What's this? You're going to ruin my trouser with oil, Jamal!" I complained and placed it on the table before us.

"You just act like a child, Zaf. What's wrong in eating her food, for heaven's sake? Isn't that the use of a maid? And if you don't want to eat it, do you honestly have to say it to her face?"

I shrugged and ignored him. "If you're truly here to watch the football and not to babysit your lady, keep shut and let's watch in peace."

He laughed and lightly smacked my arm. "My lady? She's more of yours now."

"I'd gladly give her back if you want."

"Says the one that can't remember his living room looking like an actual living place until today." I grunted and ignored him. "But if you want, once Mama is back, I'll take her to Mama's home and then you won't have to be tortured anymore."

"I'll go to Lagos myself to thank Mama for that. Thanks, man." He only laughed and this time, it was him that ignored me.

We sat in silence, but whenever our team scored, we would rejoice and I'm sure that was disturbing her. If I was a bit honest, I was even being extra loud on purpose. Whatever it would take to make sure she was having a very hard time, I'd gladly do it.

I almost forgot that I haven't had a drink for the whole of today until Jamal was about to leave, it was already midnight. Because we ended up watching, eating and talking like old times. If I didn't say it was good for my soul, I'd be blatantly lying. Because I so much love being in Jamal's company.

"We should have more nights like today," I blurted before I was able to stop myself. I'm a very honest person. I always made sure I said things the way I felt. There were times when Jamal had to correct my words to some people because I was either too blunt or too honest, and practically, humans appreciated a sprinkle of lie so long as it wasn't too much.