Written by Idayat Jinadu
“Let’s talk,” the therapist began, crossing her legs and uncapping a pen.
“Talk about what?” answered Mojisola.
“Is there anything on your mind?”
“Nothing much.” Mojisola raised her head and stared at the white asbestos ceiling of the room. “Just running around for the wedding, that’s all.” Mojisola looked back down and licked her lips.
“Tell me about that.”
“About running around for the wedding?”
“Yes, tell me.”
“Well, it’s just making some calls to ensure everything runs smoothly. The lady making the cake called to confirm whether it should be whipped cream or butter icing, even though I had specifically told her on the day we booked that it should be whipped cream because that’s what the bride wants.”
“Did you confirm it was whipped cream, not butter icing?”
Mojisola folded her arms across her chest and unfolded it. She sat upright on the chair and dusted the hem of the linen shirt she wore.
“No, I told the lady it was butter icing.”
****
Mojisola had been standing in the rain for an hour, waiting for Adesoye. She folded her arms above her head to protect her hair from the rain while hissing furiously and muttering about what she would do when she catches Adesoye. At the moment her mind crossed over to leave the rain and find her way home, the headlights of Adesoye’s car cast a glow on her face and the puddles of water on the pavement. The car slowed and stopped when it got to where Mojisola stood. Adesoye rolled down the window of the passenger’s seat and screamed at Mojisola to come inside, trying to drown out the rain.
“You know the things you do aren’t funny at all?” Mojisola retorted inside the car as she dried her cornrows with her hands. “You told me you would be with me in 15 minutes when I called you an hour ago. Instead, I had to wait for you under the rain. This is not fair at all, Adesoye.”
“Ore mi, I’m so sorry. It’s the designer who delayed me. She added pearls to the sleeve of my wedding dress when I specifically told her I only wanted it on the bodice. Can you imagine? I was so angry. She said she thought it looked better on the sleeves, and I had to ask her if she was the bride. If you don’t supervise these people, they end up doing absolute nonsense. That is why I took so long, my friend. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know rain would fall too. Mabinu.” Adesoye tried to embrace Mojisola.
“Leave me alone. You always have a story to tell.”
“Ahn ahn, you know I love you.”
“Go away with your yeye love.”
“To cheer you up, let’s go and eat Jollof rice and chicken at Mnemosyne.”
“After eating it, I will consider forgiving you.”
“What’s wrong with you? If I wooze you, you will forgive me, aunty.” Adesoye laughed as she started the car. Mojisola laughed in response and said, “I will eat at the restaurant and also take food home. All on you.”
“I accept, my madam.”
“You have no choice but to accept.” Their laughter filled the car, then Mojisola added, “how about the groom? I hope he’s fine.”
“Yes, yes, he is. He went for his suit fittings too, and I hope he doesn’t encounter any of the wahala I did today. I don’t even know when I became a bridezilla.”
“Sorry, my love. You know Nigerians, if you don’t monitor them, they do nonsense.”
“Seeee. I have warned her to be very careful with my wedding dress, or else ma fi imu e fun fere. I go use her nose blow whistle.”
“Whistle ko, blow blow ni,” said Mojisola, using the seatbelt.
“Sweetheart, what about the cake, are you on it? Remember I said whipped cream, not butter icing?” Adesoye asked, taking her eyes off the road and looking at Mojisola.
“Yes, definitely, trust me. Your cake is fine in my hands.”
“Of course, my sweet; I trust you.”
****
Mojisola and Adesoye met as roommates at the University of Ibadan. Adesoye required light to sleep because she had recurring nightmares, and on nights without electricity, she managed her reading lamp. The light hurt Mojisola’s eyes, and even when she managed to sleep, it was restless. Adesoye and Mojisola bickered about the light. Adesoye hissed at Mojisola and called her a witch. Mojisola hit Adesoye. Adesoye did the same. Mojisola’s room was changed.
At 300 level, a keke maruwa hit Adesoye. Mojisola was passing by when it happened. She aided Adesoye to the hospital, and throughout the two weeks Adesoye spent there, Mojisola cooked, washed, and took class notes for Adesoye. They became inseparable.
After their NYSC, Adesoye introduced her boyfriend to Mojisola. Mojisola swapped stories with him, like the time Adesoye wore two different shoes to work without realising it.
“Adesoye can be very forgetful,” the boyfriend responded to Mojisola’s story, folding Adesoye’s hand in his.
“Oh yes,” was Mojisola’s response, pulling the thread in her blouse as she watched him kiss Adesoye.
On a Saturday afternoon, Mojisola called Adesoye to ask when she was coming to pick her up for their weekly cinema date, which they had never missed. Adesoye didn’t answer the first time. She answered the second time, sounding like she was still in bed.
“Adesoye, don’t tell me you haven’t even had your bath.”
“I’m so sorry, Moji. I kind of slept off and didn’t set my alarm.”
“But you know today is Saturday. You know what it means. You have never slept off before, Adesoye. Just tell me the truth, there is more to this.”
“Okay, okay, let me confess. My baby came over last night and we kinda, you know, didn’t sleep overnight.” Adesoye yawned. “You know I told you he travelled for business and I haven’t seen him in 4 days. So he came over when he got back yesterday evening and we spent the night together.”
“Alright, I hear you. I’m waiting for you. Please hurry. You know we are seeing that new movie today and I don’t want to miss it. It’s showing at 3:30 pm and this is past 2 already, so be fast.”
“Ermm, actually, Moji, can you go alone today?”
“What?”
“My baby is still here and he said he has something planned this afternoon. I want to stay with him and see what he has planned. My mind has been racing since he told me. What if he wants to propose Moji? Oh my God!”
“What? Propose? Wait, you can’t come to see the movie with me?”
“I’m so sorry, Moji. I want to be with my baby today; I haven’t seen him for a while. We can see the movie next week together, what do you say?”
“Wow, see how disposable I am.”
“What? Why would you say that? It’s just today, and my boyfriend is important to me too. I’m sorry I can’t make it, Moji, but I will be with you next weekend. I promise. Pinky promise.”
“Alright.”
“I love you, okay?”
“Yeah, me too. Love you.”
****
When Mojisola was fifteen, a doctor said her mother was not going to die. He reported that he had got her blood sugar under control and she was responding to treatment.
“By tomorrow evening, she will be fine enough to follow you home. Just make sure she takes her drugs and stays away from the food I listed on this slip,” he said, passing the slip to her father. “I also listed the food she can eat. If she follows all the instructions, she will be good as new.”
Mojisola liked the phrase “good as new”. She rolled it on her tongue. If her mother recovered completely, she would resume doing Mojisola’s hair every Saturday evening and take her to Mr Biggs every Sunday after church. Her mother had stumbled and fallen while doing Mojisola’s hair. Perhaps if she hadn’t pestered her mother to do her hair, she wouldn’t have had to stay at the hospital for a whole week. Mojisola wanted her to be good as new. The following evening, her mother followed them home. She did Mojisola’s hair again, patewo with base. They went to Mr Biggs on Sunday after church, and even her father, who disliked the congregation, followed them that Sunday and they enjoyed Mr Biggs’ meat pie together as a family. Mojisola slept beside her mother and she had left the lights on in case her mother needed to pee in the middle of the night. But the light only allowed her to see her mother’s face clearly in death.
****
“Why did you tell the lady it was butter icing?” The therapist asked.
“It slipped my mind. I…urm… I forgot.” Mojisola picked a thread jutting out of her skirt and pulled.
“That’s a very important detail for a close friend’s wedding. What do you think might have caused you to forget?”
Mojisola didn’t respond. She pulled the thread and watched the fabric of the skirt squeeze together. The damage gave her a moment’s relief. She looked up at the therapist and said nothing.
“We can talk about the boyfriend, too,” offered the therapist.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Mojisola scoffed.
“Hmm, alright. Let’s talk about the cake then. Do you like butter icing or whipped cream?”
“Whipped cream.”
“Alright. You were in charge of the cake; why did you order a variant you don’t even like?”
“Well, I thought it would be nice to try butter icing, and Adesoye might enjoy it too.”
“But she told you whipped cream. She mentioned it three times, you told me that.”
“Yes.”
“So why butter icing?”
Mojisola looked for another thread on her skirt, but she didn’t find any. She clenched her fist and unclenched it. She looked up at the therapist, raised her chin to blink away the tears that pushed at her eyes, looked down at the therapist, and then burst into tears.
“It’s because I don’t want her to leave me, okay? I don’t! Is that what you want to hear? I ordered butter icing, even though I knew Adesoye hates it!” Mojisola hit her palms on her thigh repeatedly and bit her tongue to draw more pain. The therapist offered her a box of tissues and she accepted them. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
“How do you feel?”
“I don’t know.” Mojisola’s voice was hoarse. “I just think that I’ve betrayed Adesoye. She would never do to me what I did to her. I feel so terrible.”
“You were afraid she wouldn’t be your friend anymore.”
Mojisola stared at the therapist behind red eyes for a long minute and whispered, “Is it too much to ask that I want Adesoye in my life forever?”
“She’s in your life. She won’t leave you.”
“I’ve heard that before. When I was fifteen, my mother fell very sick and the doctor promised me that she wouldn’t leave me. Yet she did. My mother left me.” Mojisola tried to smoothen the part of her skirt she had damaged. “So, pardon me if I have a hard time believing a boyfriend wouldn’t take Adesoye from me as well.”
“What is the boyfriend’s name?”
“I don’t remember.” Mojisola stared at the stool between her and the therapist. “I never cared to know. Adesoye must have mentioned it once, but I forgot immediately. It’s a profoundly unremarkable name. I wonder how someone could bear a name that another person could forget in an instant. I have a remarkable memory, you know. Yet, the name of the boyfriend couldn’t even stay in my head. I wonder what drew Adesoye to a man with such a boring name when it could have been Adesoye and Mojisola forever. Now there’s a boyfriend and very soon a husband. Whenever I call her to hang out, she’s always with him. She calls him ‘baby’. She’s always with her baby, so she can’t hang out. Once, the so-called ‘baby’ picked up the phone and said he and Adesoye were at the beach. She has a life that doesn’t include me anymore. I called her later to ask why she didn’t invite me to the beach and said she didn’t want to disturb me. She used to disturb me for everything, but now that her boyfriend is around, she doesn’t want to disturb me anymore. She might as well tell me that the boyfriend is her new best friend. She did, actually. I saw her Instagram post of them and in the caption, she called him her best friend. Her best friend. Wonders shall never end.” Mojisola swallowed and crossed her leg. She uncrossed them. She looked at the therapist, then looked away.
The minute hand of the clock ticked and ticked and ticked.
“Our session for today is over.” The therapist’s voice drowned the clock.
“Alright.” Mojisola stood up and carried her bag from the carpeted floor where she had placed it.
“I will see you next week,” the therapist said.
Mojisola muttered a thank you and walked out of the office. She took her phone from her bag and dialled Adesoye’s number.
“Adesoye, I’m inside the SL building, can you come and pick me up?”
“Alright, I will be with you in 15 minutes.”
“Thank you, dear. I will be waiting outside.” Mojisola cut the call and walked to the entrance of the building. She stopped by a mirror in the corridor and examined her face. Her eyes were no longer red, but her face was puffy. She brought out her lip gloss and reapplied it. She stepped out of the building and stood on the terrace. It was raining. Mojisola cast a look at the dry lobby with its active television. She bit her lower lip, held her bag tightly, and stepped into the rain. She walked a short distance and stopped. She cowered her arms above her head and waited for Adesoye in the rain that fell harder each passing second.
