Joy to Joy

Chapter Two

I view my favourite television series with my legs crossed on the couch. That is until Dad appears from the corridor, about to leave the house.

Dad works in a Law firm and goes there early each morning required of him, but not today. He has been out cold for ours. Mom woke him up when she brought his lunch.

"See the child that wants me to send her abroad. Isn't it recent that you came back from school? Even if it is Friday, wouldn't you read?"

"I was thinking of getting up before you came,"

Mom shoots me daggers as she leaves her plate of rice in the dining room. I get up and presume the posture of a soldier on the job. She goes to dad's left shoulder and rubs his back.

"I wish you a fruitful day, honey,"

Dad is skeptical when she places a perk on his cheek. I also observe this unusual show of affection.

"I hope you know that wouldn't change my decision about Joy studying abroad?"

"We will talk about that later. Now, you need to go to work. You are already late," Mom opens the front door for him.

"Bye, dad."

"Go and read, Joy." He turns to her. "Please beg your shop landlord to allow you to see there till next month. I would be able to pay for rent by then,"

"I will tell him. Later," Mom locks the door.

I fall back onto the couch, but she swipes away the remote from my side. She turns off the television and then points at the door.

"Oya, go and dress up,"

"Why, mom? Are we going somewhere?"

I leave the living room to change my house wear into something for outings.

"Yes. We are going to see Mrs. Ifeoma, his Boss."

"Okay, mom," I hold my phone, which she snatches from my hand.

"We are going to beg this woman to help you. At least look like you are serious for once!" She flings it on my usual couch next to the remote.

....

"Did your brother tell you how he has been passing his practicals?"

Mom was calling Osas when she was eating her lunch. She updates him on things like the notice she received for her shop and the rising foodstuff prices. None of these are new occurrences. She instead avoids touching on the topic of my university admission.

"I don't care about all that, to be honest. I am more interested in the cultist activity than the grade his lecturer gives him." I pocket my hands. Mom turns behind her, but I avoid her eyes.

The sky is bright, and the place is clear of generator noise. We have not had an electricity outage today. That is why the only sound audible enough is the water pumping into the house's water drum. If only Nigeria could be this peaceful, most people's prayer points wouldn't be to jakpa.

"Forget that. Osas is the third generation of this family attending that school. Your dad and I had our fair share of such, so I can tell you that news of bloodshed should not be intriguing you."

"I do hope they will not pressure him to join those associations for protection,"

"My Osas? No, that boy knows how to handle himself. But still, I know what I had to go through in the hands of my lecturers as a female, such I do not want for you."

We occupy the front car seats, and mom honks the car's horn. The gateman comes out of his room soon after. Garbage bags surround the large trash container right outside our compound. Some gatemen from other streets have gathered around the duplex opposite us. They are praying on their stretched mats.

We have lived in our apartment since I was a six-year-old infant. At this point, not seeing this in seven months will be more fulfilling than my graduation day.

I smile at the thoughts of Osas and me chasing each other from the peeling white gates. Those times were when we went to buy tin milk from the nearest Mallam's canteen. But that was years ago.

A teen in a bright green uniform is hurrying down the street. Her brown sandals and white socks make me shake my head. I was once like this.

Faith's eyes focus on the opposite white gate, and she is about to enter when my window gets winded down.

"Faith, is it that you did not see us?"

She holds the gate door. "I am sorry. Good afternoon, ma'am."

"I hope you had a nice day?" Mom asks instead of joining me to mind my business.

"I am fine. Thank you for asking."

"Don't you think you should take a taxi instead? The level of insecurity is getting higher by the day." I join the conversation, but she gives me a daunting look.

"What? I am only trying to help a neighbour." I may sound shocked, but she has been this way for a while. Faith and her family are residing in the rented apartment on the floor below us. They have lived the longest here after my family. It is a recent thing that she acts like a few screws got loose in her head.

Faith leaves us and closes the door, which makes a rickety noise behind her.

"You see that, mom? That is what I get for being nice," The gateman push the gate doors apart.

" You two should stop beefing with each other; you were once in public school too."

We were classmates also. Mom must be the only one who still holds onto that memory as she lived it. Faith and I got over it a long time. I rest on the front door glass as mom enters the road. The scenery changes become greener and with fewer people.

"But levels have changed. Faith is jealous that I got a scholarship to Canada,"

The weight of my words registers when she glares at me in horror.

"You told Faith about your scholarship before your father? Even after calling her an enemy of progress?" Her voice rings like a car alarm.

"No, I mean, I did. I did not mean to. Faith had the guts to call me dull. That is why we fought last week. I told her about my admission and left the rest for her imagination,"

Mom sighs. "Let's stop talking about that girl, and you should stop making trouble for yourself,"

"Answer me when I talk to you," She tells me.

"Yes, mom."

The rest of the ride is silent.

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