Citrus

twenty-one

Bisola

I sat down crossed legged facing Sewa as we dug into our suya, licking our lips and pummeling it down with very cold Fanta.

It was Friday and I had just returned from a hectic day at work, strolling to Sewa's house to have some quality rest before I headed home luckily, I ran into Sewa eating a huge nylon of suya a friend had bought for her and decided to join her too.

"This thing is sweet sha," Sewa says as she chews and swallows, gulping down her drink. I nodded my head in response and again buried my toothpick in the depths of the pieces of meat, spices, and fresh onions, savoring the taste as I brought it into my mouth.

Nothing could surpass suya.

It's been a few days since the incident with John, and we hadn't said a word to each other ever since. Something told me he was avoiding me, although I didn't know the reason why. If we saw each other it was just the normal pleasantries and nothing more. To be honest, it was starting to bother me.

Sewa emptied her bottle and rubbed her belly as she was done, "That was delicious,"

"Yep," I nod my head in approval dropping the toothpick on the rumpled newspaper. There was still lots of meat left but I was full, and so was Sewa. We could keep it and eat it later.

"How far?" Sewa asks, resting her back on the wood of the edge of her bed, "It's been long since I saw you sef,"

"It's just work," I wasn't in the mood to tell her what had transpired with John if felt wrong to do so, "this week was hectic,"

"I know right!" Sewa exclaimed, frowning, "and transportation was high this week. Can you imagine, from here to Apapa 500?!"

I chuckled under my breath and squared my shoulder's slightly, "The struggle is real my dear-"

Sewa's door barging open cut me off.

And it was only one person who could throttle into Sewa's house without any form of warning.

Araoluwa.

"Babes, how far nau, did you miss me?"

A petite young lady wearing a straight wig, ridiculously revealing gown, and heavily jeweled throat and fingers stood before us with a cheeky smile on her face. Then she looked down at the nylon between me and Sewa, and let out a large cry.

"Wetin beret no go see for Mercy Chimeye's head-you people are eating suya and you couldn't call me,"

I rolled my eyes and saw Sewa do the same too.

Araoluwa ran towards us, her very high heels-how the hell does she even walk with that?- slapping the tiles as she grabbed the nylon away from us and unraveled it.

Sewa sent her a dirty glance, "Better don't finish it o!"

Araoluwa eyed her and began eating the suya in large amounts. Sewa snarled and grabbed the nylon from her manicured hands.

Araoluwa pursed her lips to form a pout, "Babe nau, what's all that one,"

"Go and tell your filthy rich senator Femi to buy suya for you and leave mine alone," said Sewa as she placed the nylon on the nightstand.

"Babe, I come back from Abuja and this is how you treat me?" exclaimed Ara once more, "It's not even Femi anymore sef, that man is too old, and he has a wife,"

"When will you change Dara," says Sewa with distaste in her voice, calling Ara by her secondary school nickname, "From man to man, doesn't it ever tire you?"