A Promise From My Heart

52.

A phone call from Big Mummy woke me up on a day I had chosen not to go out because I did not want to interact with people. I had a knowledge of her reason for calling. It was almost two weeks since I communicated with Sheryl about anything concerning the wedding. I ghosted Sheryl and blocked her line everywhere so she won't reach me. My meeting with Faith was also cancelled. I kept postponing Aunt Sabr's request to see me so that she can show me sketches, her ideas and the materials for both my nikkah and walimah outfits. Aunt Sabr stayed back in Nigeria after the wedding date was chosen to help with the preparations from Amir's side.

I was not ready to continue planning anything concerning the wedding. They were too much for my emotional state. Nothing would be right and choices would be poorly made. A break was what I needed. So, I went on with other life activities and ignored that. I had a collaboration with a garden centre. It was an event called paint and plant. People come to paint a flower pot and plant any kind of flower they want into it. It was a great way to marry my love for painting and planting. That gave me a new idea. I suddenly found comfort in painting flower pots, something my mother and I never thought of.

"Assalamu alaikum, ma." I greeted as I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes.

She replied my greeting with a grumble then roared out. "Why have you not been answering Sheryl's calls? She phoned me last night and told me you have not been answering her messages and phone calls. You even blocked her lines. She has not heard anything from you. Even Hadiza said the same thing. What's wrong with you?"

"Big Mummy, I don't think I can do this now." I decided to come out clean rather than dodge. "Can we put a pause on the whole preparation and arrangement for now?"

"Pause on what?"

"I am not in the right state of mind to plan a wedding now."

"God will put you in the right state of mind. Which kind of talk is that? That's why I told you to pray harder this time. Don't allow awon aye to get you. I understand you are having cold feet." I rolled my eyes. This was not even cold feet. When I experienced cold feet, it was four days to the nikkah. "It is normal. It is just cold feet."

"I do not just want to do this right now." I insisted knowing fully well she won't understand.

"You have to do this. What will happen to the asoebi we have bought?"

"Big Mummy, I am not saying I don't want to get married again. I just want to take a recess from the preparations."

"Sheryl is worried. And we are not stopping anything. What time will we have to plan everything? It is just three months away."

"I will call Sheryl. I will talk to her at my own time."

"Call her immediately you end this call!" It was an order I was not going to obey.

"Okay, ma." I accepted just to stop her from nagging.

"Before I forget, when is Amir coming to Nigeria?"

"Next week."

"That's good. I have made an appointment with my Alfa. You both have marriage counselling to do with him. It is important." It was one good thing she did for us because it was one of the many counselling that helped us through our marriage.

"When will that be?"

"As soon as he comes, you will both start."

"Okay, ma"

"Give Sheryl a call." She said one last time before she ended the call.

I dragged myself out of bed, managed to go through my routine unrushed. I took my bath, ate and completed a painting I had neglected for some days. When it was time for zuhr, I checked on my grandmother downstairs. She was praying so I had to leave. Being off salat, I decided to make use of my time for something else. Dad had gone out for business, Wasilat and Kenny had left for the market, and TY had returned back to school. My grandmother and me were the only occupants in the house.

My heart led me to my parents' room. There, I cleaned and arranged the room thoroughly. I unearthed comfort and peace in doing that. It reminded of the days my mother was alive and how reluctant I was to clean the space I did effortlessly. Their room would never have been disorganised. Mum was organised and neat which dad was not. Many years ago, it was an issue but as they grew together, my mother chose her battles and ignored that part of him. Everything was in the right place which also reflected in her life. Her wardrobe was always put in order. I cannot tell which of her children took that part of her. Obviously not me.

I decided to organise my father's side of the wardrobe. I derived joy from doing it knowing he would appreciate my effort put into it. My mother's side still had some of her clothes, those expensive laces, her geles, asooke, asoofi and Ankara we had refused to give out. We felt we would need them. I found a brand new lace material which I think sister Amatullah might love. She could use it to sew anything. I went through my mother's remaining clothes. There, I found a black head gear and shoulder piece and an asooke that would go right with it.

They were everything I wanted; the colours, feel of the material and rich texture. Maybe this was why other choices never appealed to me. Something was missing in them and I could not tell what it was. But holding my mother's clothes to my chest, made me feel like I had more of her in me. I knew I would be more beautiful in it. The vintage aso-oke would bring out any style it would be designed into. I felt closer than ever to my mother. The choice felt right like it was meant to be. I knew at that instant I have found what was missing.

My grandmother was about to get her afternoon nap when I walked into her room with my mother's jewellery box in hand.

"Doyinsola mi." She welcomed me which was followed with strings of praises with my oriki.

I greeted her properly then sat beside her on the bed. The bed was as hard as a rock. It had no flexibility. If I should sleep on it, I would wake up with severe body pain.

"I wanted to choose jewelleries for my engagement from mum's jewellery box. So, I thought we could do it together." It was my way of bonding with Alhaja, an unspoken manner to let her know her contribution mattered a lot.

My mother purchased and wore a lot of gold ornaments. She would have worn the finest and most expensive if she could afford them. Sometimes, she sold some of them when she needed money but many were stored for us instead. She wanted us to have them like an heirloom.

Alhaja and I went through the box. I could recall some of mum's jewelleries and where she had worn them to. We found two sets, one silver and the other gold, my grandmother could wear for the upcoming nuptial. They matched her skin tone and stood out on them. It pleased me to know TY could also find something there. She did not have to purchase new ones.

"This would look good on you." My grandmother placed a gold necklace against my chest. "It is pretty on you." She commended, her eyes tattled with approval.

"I will wear this then." I accepted, holding the heavy pendant to my chest. My eyes gazed into the mirror of the box where my reflection was. I tilted my shoulders from left to right for a better view angle. The necklace crafted in yellow gold was a flattering choice for my warm undertone.

"Oh this." My grandmother picked a coral bead.

I recognised the coral beads from years of my mother wearing them to parties. She wore them with finesse. I brought out the wrist beads that came with it.

"I know this." I told my grandmother.

"It was given to me by my mother. I gave it to my daughter. Well, you will have to take it. You can wear it with your outfit for your engagement." My grandmother lowered the coral necklace down my head. She adjusted it against my chest with gentleness. "Your mother was a beautiful bride" Her smile snitched her thoughts. She had revisited a memory she cherished and a time well spent. "And I am sure you will also be a beautiful bride."

My grandmother was right! I was indeed a show stopper.

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