Against society [AMBW]

Chapter Thirty Four

W9~Friday-Saturday
A month later- December

"Is that the jollo rice?" He points at a square bowl on the theatre room floor.

"You mean Jollof." I cover my mouth with my hand, concealing my laughter.

"Jollof..." He repeats.

"Yes, and this is ofada stew also known as designer stew. Plantain. Ogbono soup and pounded yam. And finally, gizzard mix." I point out each dish one by one.

"You eat lizard?"

"No, I said gizzard." I face palm due to his oblivious state. I guess it's cute, but he has a lot to learn.

"Oh." He stares at the food as if it's about to move. Now, I understand at first some of our food's presentation doesn't look appetizing, but at the end of the day, it always tastes great.

"What do you want to start with?"

"Joloff rice." The fact that I made him wait a month until I acted upon my promise could be seen as cruel, however what I'm about to next could be worse.

"Alright, so that will be last." I move the bowl furthest away from ourselves sat against the wall at the bottom of the screen.

"Wae?" His lips form a pout and I actually kind of feel bad. I just don't want him to be so addicted to it.

"Because... you're obsessed. Try something else first." I plead.

"Fuck you!" His face hardens with annoyance and pure over exaggeration. It's as if I'm talking to a child. Am I?

"Frick you too."

He pinches my cheeks, as his face rests. Although we were just playing, the way he switches up his emotions is funny. I scrunch my nose at his gesture. One of my biggest pet peeves is being pinched, I don't care how gentle or painful, I don't want it.

"What?!"

"You're so cute, jagi."

"For goodness sake! Just choose one!"

"Gizzard." He points at the colourful dish in the middle of all dishes. It's really my favourite. The taste of gizzard floods my brain with memories from far back up to now. However, I hate when the person cooking has the audacity to give me a 1 to 8 ration of gizzard to plantain! At that point I don't even care for it!

I grab a fork and pick up a few pieces of gizzard, using my hand underneath in case of any dropping.

"You know I can feed myself." He rolls his eyes, yet doesn't stop me... how ironic.

"Just open your mouth."

As he does so, I slide the fork into his mouth and back out. Moving back a little bit, I watch his face metaphorically shape shift. He starts off with confusion to possible excitement.

With a sly grin, I raise my eyebrows, "It's good, right?"

"Not as good as jollof rice but it's alright." The words leaving his mouth shocks me. How could one be so shallow! This Take-out is the only place with the best gizzard I've tried; it's the only place not cooking the gizzard as if it's rubber.

"Fine. Just eat your jollof rice." I grab the bowl and place it down in front of him.

I watch him examine my face slowly, causing his eyes to widen as if he's done something wrong.

"Last." He places the bowl back into the previous space and grabs the pounded yam and ogbono soup. He looks back down to me and smiles making me feel weird. I hate sympathy, it wasn't even my intention to sound so stern.