Divisions

Burnts

Chioma's POV

Sitting here, with my hand on my head, legs crossed and my right hand typing away, it's difficult forming a straight thought procession. I want to write about me and Mikaila, the love that slipped through the shards and snares snaked around my stone cold heart but like I said, I can't form a straight thought, how to begin, where to begin, and don't even tell me to start from the beginning because it began with silliest of all things, an emoji.

A message pops up from WhatsApp and I click on it immediately, but I'm disappointed. It's not Mikaila but a late reply from a friend. She wants me to call her as she's low on airtime, I type back that I had no airtime as well or I won't be as restless as I currently was.

The last time I had talked with Mikaila was on a video call yesterday, some minutes past nine in the morning which had been short sef, since my mom had shouted that I should stop laughing to myself and wash the clothes. Before I was done washing, the stupid phone had gone off and been low until now.

I leave another message for Him and drop the phone to wash the vegetables.

Being the first daughter, as well as the first child was sure as hell not the best position in a Nigerian family, especially when you had only but little younger ones acting as rats who knew only how to scatter and tear papers rather than help in any of the house chores.

"Mommy, can I go back to school since the election won't be today anymore?"

"Because?" I think she's been expecting me to say that since dad told us about the postponement of the presidential election.

"Because I have a lot to catch up on in school"

"Like?"

"Some clothes to wash, books to read and to prepare for next week's classes. Lectures will begin in earnest next week, I want to be ready." What would you have done if the election had pulled through? I tell the annoying voice in my head to shut up and smile expectantly at mom.

"Go and ask your dad"

I grumpily rinse my hands of the veggies pretending I didn't see mom's warning look. I should have gone straight to ask dad rather than go through the interrogation first.

"Daddy"

"Daddy" I called again and knocked

The noise of the radio in the room reduces, my clue to talk.

"Can I go to school since the election didn't pull through?"

"Why! Do you have lectures today?"

I step back from the door subconsciously. Why did he have to shout always?

"No, but there are many things ..."

"Chioma"

"Yes daddy"

"You're on your own"

Mom smiles at me when I'm back to the kitchen and all hopes of me asking her to beg dad to let me go vanishes. She didn't want me going back to school too.

Good. Just good.

"What did he say?"

"No" I snatch my phone from the shelf and head to my room. I didn't have to watch her laugh at me, after all we were almost done with the cooking.

Slamming the door, I made sure to lock it, mom could be so annoying, she would follow me into the room just for the fun of seeing me get more surly.

I was being too childish I know, but there was just no way around it. There was hardly a time I could talk freely with Mikaila without the consciousness of my little battery going off and him visiting was way out of the question.