Before you go

Chapter Twelve

Fa'iza Mubarak Hakimi.

I think I might be going crazy. I'm supposed to know for sure if I am or I am not going crazy, considering I am a psychologist but not even Prof told us about anything similar to what I have been experiencing for the past less than forty eight hours.

How can I suddenly have a wet dream over a man I met just yesterday? I have known him for a long time yes, but I haven't really known him quite yet. I sound so stupid, ya Allah!

I have read a lot of smutty books. Dark romance? I'm there. Innocent slow burn? I'm there. Slow romance? I'm there. Punishing heated you know what? I'm there. Heck shy type of smut that doesn't include the nonsense that is in The Perfect Poo, I'm there. And not even once have I even felt too slick. Maybe a little moisture but anything other than that has never happened.

I can read smut with a straight face and without squirming, that's how much unaffected I am by them. And even though I have like a gazillion book boyfriends, I have never even thought about them in anyway before. Just that they are hot and romantic and you know the other word, but never in a twisted way.

And yesterday, after helping Ummi serve her wicked brother in laws and praying Maghrib and Isha together —Allah forgive me —, I went to sleep. And I swear all night, I was having dreams with Kay Bee doing unsayables. And to make it worse, when I woke up, I had to change my bedsheets. Thinking about the fact that I had to wash my sheets in the early hours after Subh because of a dream is really embarrassing.

"Fa'iza! Bring those spices here." I am snapped out of my thoughts by Ummi's voice from the backyard. She's supervising Mary and Sala frying the chicken for the tambaya. I didn't know tambaya took a lot of strength until today. I have been up and on my feet since 9am and it's almost 4pm.

The only breaks I've gotten are prayers breaks. I haven't even had food. Not like I'm even hungry. I'm hardly ever hungry.

"Fa'iza!" I snap out of my thoughts again and look into the small mortar in front of me. The spices are well crushed and the garlic is even starting to turn the whole thing to a paste.

"Ina kawowa." I shout back and take the mortar to Ummi. She looks up at me from the chair sitting on and narrows her eyes.

"Juye shi a cikin can." I pour it into the spicy mix and mix it with the serving spoon.

"Go and get ready. Zakuje da driver ku sayo fruits for the fruit platter and vegetables na coleslaw din. Kinsan baya iya sayo abun da ya kamata. Ruqayya kuma she hates going to the market, gashi su Mary suna aiki." Mary raises her head from the chicken and Ummi looks at her.

"Yes?" Mary shakes her head.

"Nothing ma, I thought you called me." Mary goes back to the chicken she's frying and Ummi turns to me.

"Garki zakuje. Get the list from my room and my purse too." I leave with a nod and start walking up the stairs. I'm just going to add an Abaya to the jeans and shirt I'm wearing.

Going up the stairs, I run into Ruqayya who has been frowning since morning.

"Ina zuwa?" Ruqayya's frown gets deeper.

"Ummi mana. Wai inje," Ruqayya's phone starts ringing and she hisses before taking the stairs down.

Ruqayya has been annoyed since yesterday evening that we have to do everything ourselves when Abba is wealthy enough for Ummi to hire a handful of people to do everything for us while we rest. But Ummi doesn't trust people doing anything for her without her input. So we're stuck with doing it all ourselves.