Living Again

CHAPTER 8

                                     BE GOLDEN.

NAFIL'S POV

"And I had to clean up the mess, Sadly it's another Friday," Sarah said as she wiped the counter. I had completely zoned out on our conversation while watching the two girls that were rocking the stage. They did different routines and freestyle.

One had this crazy way of showing off her dance while being cautious of giving off the wrong move but didn't care if she did and the other danced like she had been born with it, she easily picked up the new step and danced it in her own signature style.

But what I didn't understand exactly was why I was watching them to the point of reasoning their mood through their dance steps.

"They are good right?" Sarah asked leaning on the counter "That one is stealing my heart," she had pointed at the one that had also caught my attention.

She danced with so much ease, giving crazy vibez to her steps, she had gone as far as releasing her packed braids so they swung in the air as she danced. But she had a plain face which made me wonder if it was possible for someone to dance without expressing any emotion.

After few hours of dancing, the both girls went their separate ways, mixing with the crowd and dancing. I returned my attention back to Sarah who was attending to other customers, she was pretty standing under the coloured light. She walked up to me, smiling brightly, I guess she got a huge tip serving those customers.

"Don't you have curfew today? Abi you want make person come here begin rant,"she said, her pidgin sounding rather funny than it was intended, because of her fake British accent. She dropped her tray in front of me and started walking towards the shelf to arrange the clean tumblers back.

Seeing how she made remarks on the ranting, it was obvious she hasn't gotten over my mother's confrontation. We recently moved back to Nigeria, and my mom hated the idea of being in the land of the blacks and all, which I found strange because she  was married to my dad who had a black history.

Our first week in Nigeria was a really tough one. Mom was still struggling with the entire idea and our  new neighbors weren't helping matters.  They fought almost every day and each time this happened we always heard sounds of bottles breaking. Then there was AIT news that always had sad tales, if it wasn't kidnapping then there was shooting, if it wasn't shooting then there's a rape incident.

So mom had prevented me from stepping out of the house. Only Dad went out. Since I knew no one I had consented to the whole idea, as crazy as it seemed, but who were we deceiving?  Dad had made it clear to us that we would be staying in Nigeria permanently. 

So Dad registered me into a new University to continue my studies. I met Sarah during the Orientation week for the new students, surprisingly she was also a transfer student like me but a level ahead of me.

Conversing with her was interesting and she had a way with words and was always straight to the point. Everything about her screamed Interesting, the funny way she packed her braided hair, the way she smiled while talking, exposing her teeth as she spoke. She had this British accent that sounded like she was faking it but she was constant with it so it was hard to tell if she was actually faking it. She was just so pretty.

We exchanged contacts and then she invited me to the club she worked in. I was thrilled about making a new friend that I had forgotten to call home and inform them that I would be returning late.

I lost track of time talking and watching Sarah work, then my mom walked in and walked straight to the bar, and started screaming at me at the top of her lungs because of the loud music. I was surprised to see her here but then I remembered we all had a tracking app she had forced us to install for safety sake. She ranted for minutes about how I got them worked up while hanging out with a 'Nigerian woman'. I successfully pulled her away but Sarah was in shock as a result of the sudden out burst. I guess she still was until today.