The Precious Figure

Chapter 13

It was three months into our relationship and Najib would be meeting my mother for the first time. Shouldn't I be elated? I should but I didn't feel that way. For the past few weeks, I'd been feeling insecure about our relationship. There was no one to talk because no one would understand how I felt...not even Najib.

Everything seemed too perfect... in fact, too perfect that I started to worry about the uncertainty.'What if something happens and our perfect relationship ends just like that?' I would think.

I had the unusual feeling that Najib was hiding things from me...but what it was, I had no idea about.

"Have you made the beef stew?" My mom startled me from my thought as she entered the kitchen.

"I'll do so after I make the amala," I replied.

"You said amala and efo riro is his favourite?"

"Yes, it is."

"Je kodun oo, like the soup you made three days ago. I almost bit my tongue while eating," my mom laughed. "First impression matters oo. You know this is the first time that he'll be visiting."

"I will, mom."

"Okay...I'll clean the tables in the living room," she said, leaving the kitchen.

Efo riro and amala was a meal that was prepared at least once a week. Suddenly, I became jittery.

'What if I add extra salt...or it becomes too peppery? Najib has once complained of having ulcer symptoms once...' I thought.

I steamed the beef and left for the room. I knew that Najib would have called and I was right. I was about his dial his number when his call came in. "I'm a bit nervous. What if your mom doesn't like me?" he said in a hurried and nervous tone.

"She will like you...at least when she meets you in person. You're a nice man, you know?" I couldn't help but smile.

"Now you're making me blush. Anyways, I'm in front of your gate. I'll be at your door entrance any moment from now."

Immediately, I hung up and changed into nice clothes. I informed my mom that Najib was around and she hurried to change into a presentable outfit.

Two minutes later, we were welcoming Najib into our living room and he was sitting on the chair beside the door. I served a bottle of Malt and placed a plate of groundnut in front of him. Najib greeted my mom and soon, they started to converse.

I returned to the kitchen, desperate to ensure no lump appeared in the mixed yam flour. I served the meal and we all assembled in the dining room.

"So you said your father produces movies?" my mom asked, pouring cold zobo from a large jug. We had just completed our lunch, where Najib couldn't stop commenting on the food's unique taste.