JANNAH

7: DIARY

Would they really meet again? Was he going to ever call her? Was he married? Was he even a full Nigerian that his eyes were like that? Jannah doubted that, even his coherent slick English didn't sound like Nigerian. Maybe he was a Somali or an Ethiopian or an African American. Perhaps, those eyes were only contact lens, only God knows but she had never been so flummoxed about someone. And ridiculously intrigued.

Jannah let out a sigh, looking up at the rubber ceiling in her bedroom. Why was she even thinking about him? She let out a silent hiss.

If only abbiey hadn't turned in early, she wouldn't be this bored out of her mind. Watching tv was not her scene, she was sure if Amatullah was here, she would probably be standing in the middle of the room displaying her crazy dance moves and disturbing her to join her. Or chatting her ears off.

Gosh! She missed amatullah more than words can say.

Tears rolled down the side of her face, soaking her pillow, "Oh Amatu if i knew you were going to leave us this soon, I would've never laughed and made fun of your dance moves and called you tolotolo, I would've joined you each time of those moments, have fun with you, laugh our heads off without a care in the world even if the whole neighborhood were going to hear us... gosh!"

Jannah sobbed, she was really running mad, from thinking of a man she barely knew to talking out loud to herself.

She wiped her tears and lifted herself up from the bed. Opening her drawer to pick out a nightie, her eyes fell on the book peeking under her heap of clothes.

She picked it out and ran her fingers over the cover page, which was a picture of amatullah, the biggest cheshire smile on her face. Just below it 'Amatu's diary, do not touch!' written in a flawless cursive handwriting.

It was jannah's, and she could still remember when amatullah brought the book to her, nagging her to do the writing on the cover page.

"Ya Jannah, i want it in that your cursive handwriting, i want it to be so perfect."

Jannah looked up then, from the sketch she was making on the table in her room, pencils, rulers, cleaner and whatnot alongside, she glared at Amatullah, "What's wrong with your handwriting? Girl, leave me alone, i want to finish up this sketch before tomorrow."

Amatullah pouted, her bushy brows scrunching, "You were just making fun of my handwriting here yesterday, saying it looks like some ants parading. Please write it for me."

Jannah rolled her eyes and took the book, seeing the cover page, she let out a soft chuckle, "Humhh! This kind posh diary, you even have your picture on it, i want to be like you when i grow up."

"Ya jannah!" Amatullah whined, "Stop goofing on me."

"Ha'an, look at you whining like a baby, oya sorry, what is it you want me to write on it?"

"Amatu's diary, do not touch."

Jannah nodded and took a purple marker from her markers cup, she did the writing with such precision it almost looked engraved out of a computer.

Amatullah jumped delightfully and squeezed her in a hug, "Thank you so so much my Ya jannah, now i can write all the thoughts I can't speak out to someone."

Jannah's brows drew together, she squinted her eye, "And here i am thinking you tell me literally everything?"

Amatullah shrugged with a smile, "True but there are still some things, a thing or two this diary will only get to hear. You see this do not touch, it means nobody should touch it, even you." She paused, as if marshaling her thought, then she spoke, "Do you know when you can touch it and even read all the things there?"