Twisted

21: Guilt

Zayyad

"Come, are you sure this man is not chopping my money and wasting my time?" I say to Zahra, a good family friend of mine, on the other end of the phone.

She chuckles, "Zayyad, you're the one who's supposed to resonate with the things he says nau. I don't understand you, wallahi, a few months ago, you said it was working, and today you're calling me to ask me yeye questions,"

I signal Mr Kole who's currently driving me home. "Please turn down the radio," The man nods and does as instructed. I focus my attention back on the phone. "See, this man was just speaking a lot of English today. I might have to seek therapy elsewhere,"

"Gaskiya, you're not a serious person. Doctor Ken is one of the best therapists, if not the best, in London. Even you attested to it, and you know I had to pass through the eye of a needle just to get you a slot on his clientele list,"

"Please, pass through the nose of a camel and find me another therapist,"

"Zayyad, are you serious right now?" I can hear the annoyance in her voice. "What is this change of mind you're having after almost a year with him? Did something happen?"

"Nothing happened. I feel like crap after today's session,"

"If you feel like crap it just means you're searching yourself and finally talking about things that make you uncomfortable,"

"Or maybeeee I just need a break from talking about how I feel?"

"I doubt." Small pause. "I just feel like some things need to be shared even though it'll make you uncomfortable. See, you'll feel better before the day even– Halima! Stop that! Oh my God!" I hear some rustling as if she is struggling to put the phone down, "Please, I have to go, your god-daughter just intentionally threw her food all over the place,"

I let out a boisterous laughter.

"I need you and Nabila to have yours so that you'll be feeling all this stress that I'm feeling. Walahi, I will spank her little ass. Please, I'll call you later,"

"Leave her alone abeg," I chuckle as the call ends.

I need you and Nabila to have yours, sticks to me and I don't even know how to feel.

•*. •*. •*

I walk through the kitchen door, trying to be as silent as possible aiming to sneak up on Nabila who has her back turned to me. She is watching a cooking tutorial on a tablet positioned in front of her following the instructions of the chef in the video. This is surprising. Since when does she cook?

I rethink the back hug I was about to engulf her in because I can't startle her and risk having a knife land in my chest.

"Hello, Mrs Danjuma,"

As I expected, she startles, turning back with a knife in her hand. When she realizes it's me, she places her hand on her chest in relief. "Baby, you scared me!"

"I'm sorry, mama," I apologize walking towards her with a bouquet of fresh flowers I'd picked on my way home.

"These are so pretty, Bubba..." She admires, taking it from me and dumping it on the kitchen island alongside the knife before melting into my arms. "... I don't want flowers, I just want my husband. Staying in this house all alone for two days was starting to feel like torture and the service in Accra being shitty made me scared,"