PERFECT MATCH

29 - Fuck!

Some Igbo words are written in italics with interpretations following them.

Mabel's POV

Tossing lazily in my bed, a tired yawn left my mouth as I threw the comforter off me. Stretching out my hand, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. Muffling another tired yawn with my fingers over my mouth, I forced my eyes open and flipped my eyes over to my phone —it was nine thirty am. Sliding off the bed, I slipped into my crocs and walked to my window, pulling the curtains open. 

Unlike other Mondays, the sun wasn't shining neither had the clouds gathered.  With a disappointed sigh, I rubbed my sleepy eyes and dragged my feet into the bathroom. Reaching my sink, I placed my phone on the counter and threw a handful of water on my face. After rinsing my face, I dried it with a towel and stared at my reflection.  My skin glowed, cheeks chubby, and my head thrummed with a slight headache.  From the tank top that I wore, I noticed my breasts had become fuller. Surprised, my fingers grazed the area to feel my breasts, it felt softer and fuller against my hands. My body was changing and I didn't know what was going on.

Immediately, my belly churned with hunger and for some reason the only thing I craved was spicy food. I had a vision of eating all kinds of fried chicken, vegetable soup, curry sauce and suya. I wanted everything all at once.

Dragging my feet as I descended the stairs, I was pretty tired for someone who had just woken up. The house was quiet and from the hallway, a few steps away from the kitchen I salivated just by perceiving the aroma of fried eggs.

My mother had her back facing me, stirring whatever she was frying. The aroma of fried sausages and fresh coffee beans filled the air and I wanted to taste it immediately. Sneaking up behind her, I gave her a hug. Chuckling under her breath, she turned to give me a warm smile. Releasing her from my grip, I chuckled and she flipped the pancakes on the pan.

"Good morning mummy." Reaching the fridge, I grabbed a bottle of water.  Turning from the fridge, I saw that she was now frying some plantains, the hot oil bubbling. There was scrambled eggs, plantains and fried sausages plated on the kitchen counter beside her.

"Good morning dearie." The oven chimed and she turned it off immediately, taking out the fresh bread that was baked golden–brown, my stomach churned.  "How was your night?"  She was back to the gas cooker, looming over the plantains and turning them over.

Swallowing the water in my mouth, I wiped the droplet by the side of my lips and closed the bottle.  "Very good," I headed to the stools surrounding the kitchen island and jumped on one of it.  "The best I've slept in weeks actually."

She sighed, giving me an eye roll before turning off the gas and plating the plantains.  "Told you you were being too hard on yourself. Now look at you, you look like you've fallen sick." Her arms folded as she gave me a look of concern.

"That's why I'm taking a break today. What about Ada, did she go to work already?"

"Not at all, she decided to hit the gym. That got me thinking if you guys planned to stay home today."

I shook my head in disagreement but she didn't see because she was at the sink, washing some fresh grapes, oranges and avocados. Whipping my eyes around, the bread was still exposed and yet to be toasted, the coffee beans were yet to be brewed and I knew my mother was still going to make some fresh orange juice.

Sliding off the stool, I washed my hands at the sink, dried it and went to place the bread under the slicer. My mother was had plated the grapes and sliced the avocados, she was now making some fresh orange juice.

"Mama would be joining us for breakfast."

"Why wouldn't she just move in with us? She practically spends her whole time here." I asked, watching the bread toast.