There was a photograph of Editi and Akwang by the corridor, trapped inside a rectangular wooden frame and fixed to the wall. They were wearing matching denim shirts and Akwang placed his lip on her forehead, while she was holding her long dark braids up with both hands on top of her head in a loose pile, and laughing. Beside her was another picture frame of Editi when she was seven. She had soft curly hair. In the photograph, she was looking straight ahead from under the brim of a flowered sun hat, serious and determined.
“Hi Nneoma,” Editi said as she walked out of the bedroom and met her by the corridor, staring at the pictures in admiration.
“Your stomach is coming out gradually,” Nneoma said.
Editi shrugged. “My husband says I look weird,” she laughed.
“Of course you’ll change a bit,” Nneoma giggled, “Akwang is bad mouthed.”
“Very,” Editi concurred. “Abas hasn’t offered you anything?”
She turned around, “Abas!” she called out shrilly.
“Haba Editi, I am no more a guest in your house o, I am your friend and sister.”
Abas appeared from the kitchen, tying apron and scenting of thyme and nutmeg, “Aunty, you called me?”
“What were you doing?” Editi asked.
“I was frying chicken for dinner and making your salad at the same time,” she said.
“You can go,” she waved her away and turned to Nneoma, “Your husband, when is he coming back?”
Nneoma shrugged. “I don’t know yet. He said he wants to apply for leave, so that he can spend more time with me.”
Editi clapped cheerfully. “That’s great! This is good news.”
“Let’s hope that his leave will bring me joy.”
“It will, it will.”
Nneoma sighed. “How are you feeling? What does it feel like to be pregnant?”
Editi laughed, “I can’t explain. Experience is the best teacher.” She sighed. “I feel unusually weighty and weird. I get easily tired. That’s why I always want my husband to be home. He is good at massaging my feet.”
“Hmm, this your husband is good at everything,” Nneoma said.
“Yes o, he is good at everything, I’m blessed.”
“How does it feel like when you make love in this your condition?” Nneoma asked, leaning comfortably against the couch.
“Mmm, well, sweet. My husband is a good kisser. He knows just how to get me turned on,” she laughed. “I remember how his ex almost fought me for him.”
“Who wouldn’t? Is it easy to find a man who can satisfy a woman in bed?”
“They are all over the place o. My husband is one of them. The man can last three hours in bed, no shaking.”
Nneoma’s eyes widened, “What? Are you joking. My ex was like that o, it’s just that he didn’t have money. And he was just too lazy,” she rolled her eyes. “If my husband should stay up to five minutes, then he has done too much.”
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Editi asked with surprise written on her face.
“No! That’s what I face daily. On a normal day, my husband reaches his climax after two minutes.”
“Maybe you should start giving him drinks that will make him last longer.”
“Like Palm wine and small stout. You mix it and shake it very well.”
“Hmm, Jackson doesn’t take bitter stuffs,” she sighed painfully.
“Is that what your husband takes?” Nneoma asked.
“My husband doesn’t take small stout. I have heard my younger sister talk about it.”
Nneoma laughed and sighed, “This is just too funny.”
Abas appeared with a bowl of bean sprouts. “Aunty, food is ready.”
“Bring another one for my friend,” Editi said as she began to spoon the food into her mouth immediately. Not long, Abas appeared with another bowl of salad and handed it carefully to Nneoma.
“What’s this?” Nneoma asked, looking at the bowl in disgust.
“What is what?”
“This stuff in this plate, it looks like someone weeded and poured the whole weed in my salad.”
“It’s bean sprouts. You’ve not eaten them before? It’s my favorite salad.”
“For real? It looks like something that is meant for decoration or something. Am I really supposed to eat this?”
“But I’m eating it now. It’s nice. I taught Abas how to do it and she is perfect at it now.”
Nneoma shrugged and dropped the bowl of salad on the center table. “I can’t eat this nonsense.”
“It’s good for your body,” Editi said.
“No dear, I’ll rather not waste that. You can have your bean sprouts or whatever you call it.”
Editi shook her head.
Next Chapter: |Chapter 13|
|Chapter 1||Chapter 2||Chapter 3||Chapter 4||Chapter 5||Chapter 6||Chapter 7||Chapter 8||Chapter 9||Chapter 10||Chapter 11||Chapter 12||Chapter 13||Chapter 14||Chapter 15||Chapter 16||Chapter 17||Chapter 18||Chapter 19||Chapter 20||Chapter 21||Chapter 22||Chapter 23||Chapter 24||Chapter 25||Chapter 26||Chapter 27||Chapter 28|