Infinite Endings

Part one: Chapter 1

'A, aren't you going to bed?' my best friend, Hadeefa asks.

'I told Usman I'd be awake, besides, I've not finished my drawing' I tell her through the phone, to which my other 'best friend'- Habeel grunts. We both ignore him.

'Okay, oo' Amira murmurs sarcastically 'You better sleep if you're feeling sleepy. Don't ever stay awake for any man, if you feel sleepy, sleep, if he called after you fell asleep, he's calling too late.'

'Exactly,' Habeel says.

Habeel and I have known each other since my memories became solid, which is the eighth grade, we've stuck together since. Hadeefa, I've known not as long, we met in my first year of high school, and Usman who's the last person in our friend group, and isn't on our usual facetime call today, I met four years ago, foundation year of university. Both Hadeefa and Habeel insisted we were acquainted, because I'd moved miles away from home, and knew literally no one, technically, it's six, I met him two years prior to moving, as he was a friend of Amira's, but we only became friend that first year of college.

'You guys, Usman is just a friend I'm waiting for, what's this situation ship advice.' Habeel coughs, at the same time, I hear his roommate yell a question at him which makes Habeel mute and excuse himself from the call.

'Okay, for the first time ever, Mikael has perfect timing. A, I love you, and you know I'm always real with you... you and Usman... aren't just friends'

I cut in.

'Hadeefa! I know' I let out a groan 'I don't know what I'm going to do.'

'But you have to do something," Hadeefa whines.

'Can we not have this conversation?' I say, putting down the pencil in my hand; I don't feel like drawing anymore.

'You have week, we'll be having this conversation again' she sighs, "I'm off to bed, end the call when Usman calls you' Amira says resigned from our conversation, and true to her words, she's asleep by the time Habeel returns, which is all of ten minutes.

'Hey, Amra, is Hadeefa asleep?' he whispers.

'Yeah, you're good, she's gone.' I am laying on my mattress pulling at a loose hair strand. My twists are in a bonnet and I'm in silk a matching pajama set. My friends are right, I'm not one of the girls who stay up late for a guy.

'Amra. You know, loving him is fine. You are allowed. And not loving him is also fine, anything that brings you peace.'

'I know.' That is all I whisper to Habeel as I stare at my ceiling.

'Good.' He says, then goes back to playing whatever game he plays. The three of us stay that way for another hour, Habeel playing his game with his roommate, Mikael, Hadeefa, asleep and me, thinking.

Habeel leaves the call first, it's a bit past one in the morning, I've dragged my ass to my bathroom to do skincare when he tells me he's going. And then 10 minutes later, when Usman calls, I end the call with Hadeefa and pick up Usman's call the second time he rings me up.

'Hi'

Hi' me.

'How are you?' he asks, I hear a shuffle, then a thud on his bed.

'I'm good. You?' I ask.

He sighs. Then goes quite for a long while. When he finally speaks, it's a whisper, a loud whisper since both our houses are silent.

'She didn't have anything to eat today. They've been at it since dawn. I took Jamal and Adija to our grandparents. And he's just left.'

He stops to take a breath before speaking to me, and I imagine his eyes hoarding worry and emotion 'What am I going to do Am?'

'Make her something to eat, make sure she has the food, and tuck her into bed.'

I hear him take a sharp breath, then shuffle and I assume he's on his way to the kitchen. We switch to facetime.

'All the maids are asleep' he says exasperatedly, his long fingers going down the length of his face.

'Well, Usman, I guess we're going to cook.' I joke, which works because he laughs a bit and I smile in return.

By the end of our cooking session, Usman made pancakes and soup. I suggested pancakes for comfort and soup as a backup in case his mother tries to use the fact that it's too late to have pancakes as an excuse to not eat.

'I don't know how they taste, but I'll give you an A for presentation!'

'I cook you know, I only needed help with measurements...'

'Which is literally half of cooking,' I reply with laughter. Go and give your mother her food'

Before moving out of the kitchen to take the food up to his mother, Usman stares at me for a good minute and smiles then says, 'don't end the call, just switch to audio?'

And I do, switch to audio.

When Usman gets to his mother's doors he knocks on the door, and I don't hear his mom respond, asking him to come in, regardless I hear him push open a door, walk a bit and then open another, and then his voice comes through the phone.

'Umna, I got you something to eat' he says in Hausa, the native language of most northern Nigerians.

'I hear shuffling, and then his mother's hoarse voice 'Khalifa na, sit down' he puts down the plates of food, and sits down.

'Pancakes.' Umna says, breathing in sharply, as if only realizing she's starving.

I hear Usman serve some into a plate for his mom and then it's quiet.

'Adama didn't make this and Andras has gone home, did you cook?'

Usman doesn't say anything, so I assume he nods.

'Eat with me Khalifa' He doesn't argue, and they eat.

I tidy up after myself, closing the caps of my serums, and trashing the packs of used face masks.

After a couple of minutes, Usman clears his throat. That's his 'I want to have a serious and uncomfortable but necessary conversation'.

'Umna...'

His mother cuts in, speaking gently in Hausa 'Khalifa na, allow me eat this pancake with you, and to sleep. We'll have this conversation tomorrow. Now, eat.'

'Who helped you make this, I mean you can cook, but it's so fluffy and not too sweet' she chews 'you know if there is an amarya...' wife.

'Umna' Usman groans. 'I did have help, but I'm just 27, are you so excited to get rid of me?'

Umna laughs, and ignoring him, she says 'You blushed, do you like this person, the one who has this amazing pancake recipe. Because I already like her.'

I imagine Usman rolling his eyes with a smile. 'How do you know it's not a guy'

'You don't blush when speaking about your male friends' pause 'and I just know'

Sure,' Usman says, as I fall asleep to his and his mother's banter and laughter. 

.

.

.

Nafisah.