“Well, this news should cheer her up then—”
“Well yes, but . . . I’d rather wait. I mean, no point getting her hopes up until I get the job, right?”
I grimace, hating myself for lying to my aunty. But honestly, is me not telling Mum that much of a big deal? I guess Aunty Blessing just wants to do the right thing—given how she’s a woman of the law and all. Thank God, Mum and Aunty Blessing are not the type of sisters who call each other every week.
I wait for Aunty Blessing to probe further, but to my relief, she tells me to do her another thread. I manage on the second attempt. Hey, I’m getting pretty good at this. She adjusts my head and gets back to sewing.
“Yinka, I need to talk to you about something.”
My chest tightens.
“The baby shower,” she says, and I feel my diaphragm relax. “Aunty Debbie’s prayer was completely unnecessary. Let’s just call a spade a spade—they don’t want you to end up like me.”
By this point, she has stopped sewing. I turn my body around. This seems like a face-to-face conversation. I’ve never really talked about my love life with Aunty Blessing. It’s always seemed . . . taboo. Maybe because it would force me to ask her that lingering question: Aunty Blessing, how does it feel not to have found love?
Something about her reaction tells me that she has read my mind.
“You’re wondering what went wrong for me, aren’t you?” she says. “How come, unlike my sisters, I didn’t settle down?”
“No!” I practically burst. I don’t want to hurt her feelings. Then after a short pause, I add hesitantly, “But may I ask why?”
“Life,” she replies matter-of-factly. “Sometimes life doesn’t work out the way you plan. I had dreams of getting married. Having kids. Settling down.” She smiles with her eyes. “But I also had dreams of becoming a top barrister. And as you can imagine it wasn’t a walk in the park. Work became my only love. By the time I reached your age, I think the longest relationship I held down was, what, three months?”
“Wow.” I chew my lip. “So . . . have you ever been in love before?”
Aunty Blessing swiftly looks past me. She shakes her head a little. “But I’m fine with that.” She rubs her thighs. “Look at where I am today. I have a lovely home, my dream profession—and who told you I’m too old to find love?”
She cocks her head and I laugh. Then I remember the online dating website.
“Yes, it would have been nice to have had a husband, and a kid or two,” she carries on. “But I knew deep down that I couldn’t have both. Back then, female barristers were few and far between, and on top of that, I was a Black woman. I had to work harder. I had to prove myself. At the end of the day, I’m happy. I know I don’t have it all, but what I do have I wouldn’t trade for the world. Besides, I very much enjoy being an aunt.”
I return her warm smile.
“You see, I’m responsible for my happiness.” She presses a hand to her chest. “I would have lived my life disappointed if I had not known that happiness is a choice. Do you know what would be even more disappointing?”
I shake my head, not sure where she’s going with this.
“Living a life that you feel pressured into.” She looks me square in the eyes. “Your mum messaged me about this man that Aunty Debbie introduced you to. It seems she has high hopes that he’ll be your husband in the near future.” She rolls her eyes when she says this. “Now, tell me. Do you feel you’re being steamrolled into this? Because I’m very happy to have a word with your mum. I’ll tell her to ease off a little.”
Her stricken expression makes me laugh. “No, no, Aunty. It’s fine. Funny enough, I actually like the guy, and I think he likes me too. He’s called Alex by the way. I’m meeting him after church tomorrow.”
“Why am I only hearing about this now?”
“Okay, let me start from the beginning.” I swing my body back around so that she can resume fixing my hair. “Let me fill you in on how we met.”
As I give Aunty Blessing a quick update on Alex—the first amazing meeting, the disastrous outreach, all the Insta action since—the back of my head feels progressively heavier.
I don’t tell her that as soon as I got home after Alex followed me I did a thorough audit of his account. I was pleased to see that it was nothing like his Facebook profile. No pictures of him on holiday or at nightclubs surrounded by tons of women, or any photos that would suggest that he is a low-key ladies’ man. Instead, what I got were several photos of Nigerian dishes, a couple of chilled selfies, a photo of him looking ridiculously toned at the gym—my favorite—and a couple of him with his brother and late twin sister. It was only when I looked more closely that I realized his sister was the same dark-skinned girl that I saw when I was trawling through his Facebook photos at Nando’s. I don’t know how I didn’t see it. They both have the same nose and eyes. It reminds me of that moment we shared when he first told me, and I get chills all over again.
“I think he likes me,” I say when Aunty Blessing has finished, running my fingers through my new tresses. Ahh, so soft. “I just want him to come out and tell me already. What do you think I should do, Aunty? Do you think I should invite him out? After all, he is new to London.”
“Sorry, you’ve known him for how long?” Aunty Blessings says, and I feel so sheepish when I say, “About two weeks. You’re right, maybe I should just wait it out—”
“Wait it out?” Aunty Blessing kisses her teeth. “Yinka, let me tell you something. Men these days are slow. Send them a simple text message, you won’t hear back in a week. Agree to a time to speak, they cancel or postpone. Pfft. I say go for it. Of course, if I were you. So what if the woman makes the first move.”
I open my mouth then close it again. A smirk rolls across my lips. Well. I won’t ask Aunty Blessing how she’s finding online dating then.
Now you are beautiful again
SUNDAY
Samsung Memo cancel
50 squats! Boom!
Breakfast: peanut butter sandwich. High in protein apparently
Running my fingers through my silky hair, I peer anxiously at the stream of people pouring out of the auditorium’s twin doors. I’m waiting in the church lobby by the bulletin boards as Alex suggested.
I try hard to balance in my court heels, which I have not worn since graduation, and pinch the sides of my African print wraparound dress to tug it down. With Nana growing increasingly suspicious of my plan to win over Alex, I wasn’t quite brave enough to ask her whether I could borrow her clothes. So I had to resort to wearing a dress that she made for my birthday. My twenty-fifth birthday. It still fits, but it is a bit tight around my hips and bum. Ooh, maybe this means my bum regime is working.
“Fine girl, Yinka!”
I immediately recognize the voice. It’s Kemi, and she’s walking toward me with Uche. Well, waddling. I hug them and pat her stomach.
“Check you, looking all fancy.” She’s eyeing me up and down. “And you’ve got a weave!” She touches my hair. “What’s the occasion?”
I shrug. “Just fancied a change. New year, new me.” I laugh.
After Aunty Blessing had finished doing my hair, I looked in her bathroom mirror and, praise be to God, I didn’t get the shock of my life. Granted the weave was a little shiny, but I’m not unfamiliar with having long hair attached to my scalp; only long hair that isn’t mine. I’m not going to lie, it did take some time getting used to, especially not being able to wag my eyebrows—Aunty Blessing had braided the hair underneath too tight. Thankfully, the Botox look has subsided now. Rocking a side fringe like the RnB singer, Aaliyah, I’m loving my new hairstyle. And I’m praying that Alex does too. He’d better, given how much I spent on it.