<I am mine, before I am anyone else's>
|Jadesola|
Sunday, 15th August
"HOW IS married life treating you, Ola?" Mom asked as she inclined forward to grab two cans of maltina from the pack lying on the table. She pushed one into my hands despite the negative shake of my head. Mothers.
"Simi, do you even need to ask?!" Aunty Sasha butted in, fanning her heavily made-up face with her white hand fan. The numerous bangles on her wrists jangled. "Are you not seeing how my daughter is glowing?! Married life is treating her as it should. Very very well."
Mother and a few others close by, including my grandma, laughed.
Today marked our 20th annual, august meeting for the Anyalewechi family living in diaspora. All relatives, both from my grandfather's side, the Igbos and my grand-mother's, the Yorubas were present. About twenty women were gathered in the hotel's large hall. Most of them, people I hardly knew or ever saw.
"Mummy!" objected Olayinka, a light blush coating her cheeks. Shy now that she was the center of attention, she turned to my mother. "Ma, Jayden has been treating me perfectly well."
"That's good, my dear." Mom smiled, nodding as she cranked open her malt. "I'm very happy to hear that. He needs to take even better care of you now that you're pregnant."
Like every other elderly woman present, my mother was attired in an expensive, golden iro and buba. A red gele tied up her beautiful look and whenever her teeth widened in a broad smile, I was enveloped with the urge to stand, screaming proudly, "That's my gorgeous mother, y'all!"
Olayinka beamed brightly, rubbing her three months old belly. "He is. I always have to beg him to allow me to do some chores in the house."
Again, everyone hooted in laughter and fussed over her once more. Me? I never said a word, choosing to remain silent and ignore her betraying ass.
Situated on the high table, I was sandwiched between my mother and grandma. Opposite, Olayinka and Aunt Sasha flanked them, next was Ada, my best friend and first cousin who had just flown in from Nigeria, then her mother.
Various drinks manned the table and feets away, were other elegantly dressed women in traditional garbs, doing the usual. Gossiping and munching on the snacks being shared.
Grandma leaned forward and tapped Mom on her shoulder. "Simisola, tell the caterers to get the food ready so that we can commence this meeting as everyone eats. O mọ ounje jẹ ki awọn obirin wọnyi gba."
"O dara, iya," Mom replied and stood, clutching her maltina. She adjusted her wrapper before heading into one of the open rooms beyond.
Grandma relaxed, perched on her high pedestal as she bobbed her head to the Yoruba traditional song playing from the speaker. Whenever we had a meeting like this, all our other relatives called her Big Mummy, despite the enmity warring within both tribes.
Since we were stalling, I focused on the lemon I licked.
"Jadesola," Ada's surprised voice called, her round face in full view now that my mom's seat was vacant. "When did you start licking lemons?"
"I don't know. I've been having cravings for them." I chuckled lightly, shrugging. Once I was in the presence of my fellow Nigerians, I tended to lower my guard down, my accent always peeking through as I spoke.
Giggling, she tilted her neck to the side, her bone-straight wig flowing over her bare shoulders. "Okay o. I'm suspecting you shaa, after that your marriage to your white man."
YOU ARE READING
On His Terms
Romance"You can have me, Kian," I whispered, elation that my plan was coming into play, making my voice low. "Are you sure? Because you don't know, Jade. You," a deep groan escaped him, the rumble of his words vibrating against the arch of my throat, "don...
