The Precious Figure

Chapter 3

I laughed unusually but what came out were breaths of air. "Oh...that. Someone dropped Raqibah and me off from school." I replied silently, noting the expression on mom's face.

She scrunched up her face in skepticism. "The red car that was parked outside a few minutes ago?"

I felt a shudder of nervousness. "Yes,...he's a really nice man."

Mom raked her roughly-packed hair and clacked the spoon in the mug. "I never knew you were in the car."

"I was...and he's a nice person," I sang sweetly, swinging my arms and reaching for her hair. "Let me pack this neatly. Have you taken your bath? You've taken your medication?"

Mom's eyes gleamed in happiness. She loved it when I take care of her like a child. "I haven't taken my bath...I'm too tired. I'll take my drugs after eating lunch," she smiled slightly and I was glad that the topic of discussion had been changed.

Mom was a thin and frail-looking woman that was very fair in complexion, but her yellow-coloured skin had begun to fade due to old age. She was average-height with small squinty eyes and bold lips. Mom was a quiet woman; she hardly talked except it was really necessary.

She also wore an Ankara blouse and wrapper, or a long gown. She had a large collection of Ankara outfits and she travelled often to Kano state, to buy new fabrics. Mom had once wished to own a fabric store but it didn't work out. She was so passionate about her business.

She owned a stall where she sold bags of rice and beans. Mom had several employees that worked for her. Her selfless dedication towards the success of her business had made her home-sick. Mom had several responsibilities; to manage the house and ensure that I get the best out of life.

"What will you eat? Rice or amala?" I asked, walking towards the kitchen door. On the table was 'Enjoy Your Life' book, opened at its centre. Mom would read until her eyes turned red and swollen, and she would never visit the eye clinic.

"Let us have amala and okro soup. The dried fish stew should be very peppery oo. I don't want to eat 'pepeye' food that will make me woozy." Mom laughed and I joined.

I was just about to enter the kitchen when I turned to her. "Mom?"

She looked absent-mindedly. "Yes, my daughter?"

"Do I look beautiful? If you were a man, would you see me and like what you see?"

Mom stared at me with arched brows. "What are you saying? What has gotten into you?"

"I'm sorry, let me make this food on time," I replied brusquely, dashing into the kitchen.Mom had no reason to feel awkward about what I said. I've always been the best of daughters; avoiding illicit acts and obeying her at all times. At 23, I don't think that there should be a crime in liking someone.

I placed a pot on fire; picturing the look on Najib's face...his bright captivating his eyes, the movement of his lips when he talked and the shiny-white teeth that were always evident. I felt like the luckiest woman in the world to have such kind of man drop her off at home and compliment her looks. Raqibah was with me and Najib didn't pay attention to her? What is so special about me?