Diary of the Crazy Shaniqua Bello

Log Sixty-three: PATHETIC

SIXTY-THREE

Wednesday

9:50 pm

Dear, Diary

I've not been home for 2 dinners now, but I know from my years of living and experiences that we eat dinner at 7:30 so when Shantel casually waltzed into my room to inform me about dinner at past 9 I shot up from the bed at surprise—only for me to step downstairs to find a feast on our dining table—where the heck had the full chicken erupted from.

"What's the occasion?" I asked in confusion as I pulled out my chair.

"Do we have to state the obvious abi what's wrong with this one now?" Mummy said before gesturing at the one who called himself my boss but was burying himself inside mummy's Jollof rice.

"You didn't cook anything like this for my birthday oo—wasn't it Eba and the leftover okra soup we ate that evening?" I asked Shantel who looked like she was too busy learning how to tear up a drumstick from Elvis. Pathetic.

"Ah, this girl, you don't forget the past!" Mummy laughed like I hadn't just called her out on her wickedness, and I watched Elvis chuckle along with her—and of course, Shantel joined.

Elvis didn't have to state that he wasn't used to talking while eating so we ate in silence except for the occasional "hmm" and "yummy" compliments he paid my mother.

"I'll help you with the dishes." He immediately suggested when Shantel clearly informed me that she was closed for the day and that she'd been doing my job for 2 days now—like I was eating dinner with them.

"No, it's fine." I declined but he didn't look like he was about to give up as he rose and began grabbing the plates I couldn't handle.

"Maybe I should help..." Shantel cleared her throat but my mother asked her to sweep the corridor if she wanted to help and that was when Shantel remembered that she had an Instagram Live with a few fans.

"You don't have to." I pleaded with Elvis as I began to scrub the soapy sponge on one of the dishes while he anticipated rinsing it with clean water.

"I want to. It's been years since I last washed a dish."

"Unbelievable!" I heard myself say and I was about to apologize for my rude note of sarcasm when I saw his lips curve into a small smile.

"Don't worry—now I know where you get your sharp mouth from now," he whispered the words, sharp mouth as he gestured at my mother who looked like she was struggling with the scarf on her head.

We also did the dishes in silence and to be honest, he looked like he was enjoying the experience. Anyway, I was clearing the empty sink when I heard him say,

"Can we run over tomorrow's day in my room before you call it a night?"

In my room? Hope this guy wasn't planning to stay longer? "My room Koh, my home ni"

"Sure. No problem. I'll just finish up and join you," I threw him a small smile and he thanked me for "everything", before leaving the kitchen.

I think I spent minutes thinking about him with a napkin in my hands and my head in the clouds.

Now, that's pathetic.

Shaniqua

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