Worst Cupid Ever

The Hearing [2]

Blinking awake, Genevieve rubbed her eyes and sleepily stared at the ceiling for a solid minute. There was that feeling, like a vital memory lingering at the back of her mind, but no matter how hard she pressed, she couldn't recall what it was. Oh well. Sitting up, she glanced about and did a double take. Sitting next to her pillow was a party hat.

"What's this?" Cradling her forehead, she scrunched her brow as she peered at the hat. Why the hell does it feel like I'm forgetting something super important?

Her phone chimed just then, distracting her.

Check your secure folder.

She blinked at the reminder, confusion doubling. She had made it a rule of thumb never to use secure folders. If something was too private, it was better to exist nowhere in a smartphone. And what's the password?

When a few tries didn't work, she shrugged it off and went about her morning, only to remember what went down happened yesterday.

She groaned as she massaged her forehead, "I'm jobless."

Collapsing into her beanbag, she stared at the ceiling again, mind considering strategies. It wasn't as if she were completely jobless. She had her pet project, but it wasn't generating income yet. The other option was to do the walk of shame through the job market. But the thought of brushing up her resume, going through interviews, rejection emails, and repeating until final success. Ugh. She groaned again and shut her eyes before a shot of rage blasted through her. All this wouldn't have happened if her mother hadn't meddled. Always meddling!

She pushed to her feet. I should call and give her a piece of my mind. Then what? Genevieve deflated into the bean bag. Going into the ring with a seasoned politician would gain nothing but tears and soul-crushing belittlement. She could never win a battle of words with her mum.

When her phone rang, she glanced at the screen and smiled.

"Troublemaker, what's up?"

Lisa laughed. "I'm good." She paused, the sound of a ruffle in the background.

Genevieve checked the time—a few minutes past seven. Her cousin wasn't an early bird, so what's with the morning call?

"You said I should tell you to get a paper and a pen."

"Huh?" Genevieve sat up, her confusion from before returning. "Zero memory of telling you that."

"You weirdo." Lisa chuckled. "You said you'd likely say you have no memory of saying that. Viv, are you on something?" Her voice lowered. "Don't do drugs. Remember Uncle Tim? Bleating like some randy billy goat, and those atrocious dance moves. Ugh."

Genevieve cackled hard enough to draw tears. "I don't know, though. Woke up to a party hat next to my pillow and a reminder to check my secure folder."

"What sort of strangeness..." Lisa's voice faded. "What happened yesterday? Were you drunk? But you hardly drink."

"I know, right? Super weird. The kitchen is clean, but I think I baked a cake yesterday." Genevieve frowned when she realised something. "This may sound crazy, but the cake tastes exactly like the one you made."

"No way!" Lisa laughed. "Just say you missed the taste and—"

"I'm not kidding." So strange. Though the cake didn't look as ugly as Lisa's, it tasted and smelled the same.

"Bring a slice over and I'd believe you."

"Bring a slice from Lagos to Abuja? Sey wetin happen?"

Genevieve connected her earbuds and went about fixing breakfast and setting up her tab for job hunting. Their conversation spun around the earth and settled on the issue with Genevieve's mum.