Page 47 of Cursed Daughters
—
She woke up grouchy and anxious. She wanted to stay close to the phone, so instead of going to the salon, she spent the morning shampooing, conditioning and stretching her hair; and then she engaged her cousin’s services to braid it. She sat cross-legged in the east living room, with Ebun perched above her and the house phone on the coffee table, an arm’s length away.
Ebun worked in silence, using a cutting comb to part Mo’s hair and deft fingers to weave it; but for Mo the silence swelled and was filled with thoughts of Golden Boy embracing another woman. It was one p.m., he hadn’t called yet and she needed a voice to reassure her. She found herself confiding her fears to Ebun, and waited for her cousin to echo her boyfriend’s statement that all would be okay.
Instead, Ebun said, “You know, Chuka was asking about you the other day…”
“So?”
“I’m just reminding you that you are hot stuff. Some guy or another is always asking about you: Are you single? Are you available? Can I hook them up?”
“I don’t want some guy. I want Golden Boy.”
“Mo, Kaluisjust some guy. This pedestal you have put him on…”
“You won’t get it till you fall in love, Ebun.”
“If this…if this is what love is, I think I’d rather be alone.”
—
When the phone finally rang, Mo almost fell over in her eagerness to pick it up. She was glad Ebun wasn’t in the room to see her. Her cousin had woven the last braid just minutes before the receiver danced on its hook.
“Hello? Hello?!”
“Hey, babe. You good?” It was a dumb question. She made a non-committal sound and waited.
“So I met her.”
“Oh? How did it go?”
“It went okay. She is a nice girl.” Nice wasn’t wonderful. At least he didn’t sound as though he had fallen head over heels, but it was immediately clear to her that he had not hated the dinner either.
“Is she pretty?”
He hesitated, then, “Yea. Kinda.”
“You could have just said no.”
“I thought you wanted me to be honest.”
“Do you think you’ll see her again?”
He sighed. “No. She is a nice girl,” he said again, though there was no need to reiterate it, “but she isn’t Monife Falodun. And I am in love with Monife.”
“Is that what you’re planning on saying to your mum?” He laughed. “Tell me how it went. Don’t leave anything out.”
“Babe, is that necessary?”
“Yes.”
He sighed heavily this time.
“Look, we ate food, chatted. I told her I had a babe, we laughed about meddling mums, and then I dropped her home and—”
“You dropped her home?”
“Yea.”
