I let out a reluctant sigh. “I am who I say I am,” I repeat twice as loud.
“And don’t you ever forget it,” she says, dropping her fistful of locs before twisting around to give me a stern look. “I mean it, Yinka. You need to define who you are. Otherwise, people will happily do it for you.”
“I know.” I rub the back of my neck. “It’s just . . . I really like Alex, and I was sure that he liked me too. You’ve seen our messages.”
Nana takes my hand in hers. “Yinka. If it’s meant to be, then it will be. And if not . . .”
I almost snatch my hand away. No. Alex and I have to work. I will not end up sixty and alone, the subject of pity and open prayers until people become too embarrassed at praying for the sixty-year-old singleton to pray any more. A lost cause that becomes the cautionary tale.
I sink under my duvet again. Across the room, my phone vibrates.
“The Universe has heard you,” I hear Nana say after a second. “Yinka. It’s Alex.”
I scramble out of bed so fast that I nearly fall flat on my face. I practically rip my phone from her hand.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Yinka!” Alex cries. “What happened? Where did you go? We waited ages.”
For a moment, I let Alex’s panicky voice wash over me. He actually cares about me. Then I remember that I need to answer his question.
“Sorry, uh, I had an accident.”
In an even more panicky voice, Alex says, “Oh, no, are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I say quickly before he imagines me with a missing leg. “Um, it’s just that time of the month, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh,” says Alex, startled.
Nana shakes her head.
“Well, I hope you’re okay—”
“Yes, much better. And sorry for just leaving like that.”
“Don’t apologize, my sister used to get them bad too. Anyway, you forgot something?”
“I did?” I screw up my face in thought.
“Your jacket,” he replies, and I clutch my head. “Remember you gave it to me? To save you a seat.”
I laugh. “No wonder I felt so chilly after I left the restaurant. So, do you have it on you?”
“Yup. I’m wearing it now. Just kidding. It’s still here. Chilling on the chair I saved for you, but I’m about to head home now.”
I’m so caught up in the moment that I say, “Well, can I come over and pick it up? Maybe during the week?” I amend quickly, rubbing my neck.
“Hmm. This week might be tricky. Tomorrow and Tuesday, I have this overnight work conference. Then on Wednesday, this guy that I met earlier, Derek, invited me to this homeless outreach—”
“Hold up, are you going?”
“Yeah, I thought with me being new to London, it would be a good way to meet people. Are you?”
“Of course,” I say, ignoring Nana’s frown. “So we’ll both be there. Perfect.”
“Sweet,” says Alex, and I picture him grinning. “I guess I’ll bring your jacket.”
“I look forward to it,” I say without thinking. “I mean, er, see you there.”
“Cool. Well, I need to head off now. We’ll catch up later, yeah. Oh, and do me a favor, please.”
Anything.
“Stay away from chicken and chips. They’re bad for you.” He laughs.
“I don’t have it all the time!”
Alex is still laughing. “See you Wednesday. Bye.”
I press my phone to my chest, feeling like a teenage girl. “Nana, can you believe it?”
Nana folds her arms. “Yinka. Do you have amnesia or something?”
“What?”
“You have an interview on Thursday.” She enunciates the word “interview” as though I’ve forgotten.
“Oh, it’s just with HR.” I bat my hand. “Besides, I have Monday and Tuesday to prepare.”
“Hmm,” she says, and she reminds me so much of Aunty Blessing. “Anyway—” She jumps to her feet. “I’m going to make a start on sketching the bridesmaids’ dresses.”
“Oooh, I can’t wait to see them. And Nana.” She turns around. “Thanks for before.”
“No problem.” She winks. “Remember—”
“I am who I say I am,” we say at the same time.
“Pure cheese,” she says.
I pull a face, and we giggle.
Operation Wedding Date is back on. Yinka Oladeji is in the running.
February
Plan 2.0
MONDAY
RACHEL
Hey chicas!
Help! I need your thoughts on décor
Found a decorator that I really like
She told me to send her pictures of what I’m after I’ve whittled it down to ten
NANA
Ten! Rach, pls, tell me this was a typo RACHEL
Actually
You’re right . . .
12
OLA
Babes, send the pics through
What’s the decorator’s Insta?
Hope you’re not going for a cheap one!
RACHEL
Hell to the no!
Okay hun. Lemme double-check
Oh, yeah, anyone know a good photographer?
I woke up this morning with a new attitude—I’m going for what I want and I’m going to get it. I read my Bible and prayed for half an hour, then I spent most of the day preparing for my upcoming interview. I did loads of research about the company before rehearsing my answers to a few common competency questions I found online.
Interview prep out of the way, I shift my focus to my next goal: Operation Wedding Date. I need to get things moving with Alex. I know I like him, and now I need to get him to really, really like me.
Using the flipchart paper and Post-it notes that I nicked from Godfrey—hey, might as well make the most of that awful legacy—I draw up my new plan.
Standing back, I tilt my head and stare at the neon-colored squares that are stuck on the paper behind my bedroom door.
OPERATION WEDDING DATE: MY PLAN TO WIN ALEX AND HAVE A DATE FOR RACHEL’S WEDDING IN JULY!!!
OBJECTIVES
TASKS
DEADLINE
KPIs
1. Be more attractive
? Buy a weave (preferably a long weave) ? Wear more stylish clothes—NO cardigans permitted. Look into borrowing Nana’s African print clothes ? Wear more makeup—not too much. Keep it natural.
? Increase my bum size by eating more pounded yam and doing 50 squats daily / bum workout on YouTube
ASAP!
? Alex compliments me
? I catch Alex staring at me
2. Be more in touch with Nigerian culture
? Learn how to cook a variety of Nigerian foods properly ? Tell Alex (in passing) what Nigerian food I’ve had for dinner ? Learn a few Yoruba words—YouTube? Language app? Ask Kemi for Nollywood film recommendations???
Ongoing
? Alex is curious about my cooking and wants to taste it. We spend more time together ? Alex and I have better banter
Black marker still in hand, I read over the Post-its. Perhaps I’m taking my bridesmaid’s goal a bit too far? What would Nana think if she saw this? Or Aunty Blessing? Or Kemi? I know what that feminist woman on Quora would say. She would accuse me of being desperate and sad for wrapping my life around a man and being a disgrace to all womankind.
I sigh. This plan does look a bit desperate. Okay, majorly desperate. But let’s face it, every woman has at some point hatched a plan to win over their crush. The only difference in my case is, it’s written on neon stationery, as opposed to being an accumulation of thoughts and ideas swirling around in my head.
Deciding it’s okay to feel proud of my plan, I scan the task column for a good place to start. Hmm. What about . . . pounded yam and squats?
* * *
—
Twenty minutes and thirty squats later, I’m sitting in the kitchen at the breakfast table, struggling to finish my pounded yam. Ugh, why is it so soggy?
I shove the mash into my mouth—since Mum’s not around, I’m using a spoon—and I’m eating it with a pool of beef stew that Nana made for dinner last night.
A moment later, I hear the slam of the front door, followed by the pattering of Nana’s footsteps and the clattering of her keys.
“What is that?”
I follow her disgusted gaze as it lands on my plate—specifically, to the mash beside the stew. Despite my best efforts, it resembles mushy peas.