Insomniac

Chapter One

Six years later

Colourful pieces of clothing laid strewn about her bedroom floor, along with hangers, hairpins and discarded sandals. The bed was the messiest of all, sporting Ankara dresses on hangers flung about the white, tumbled up sheets—most of which came from her closet, as she frantically searched for something that could be considered presentable for work. 

Zelah buttoned up her jeans in front of the mirror and fixed her white chiffon blouse over it. The sleeves stopped just above her elbows, and it was thin enough to allow air to pass through. The heat that morning got her to reconsider a thicker dress shirt. The jeans fitted more tightly than she had expected, due to the food marathon that she had been on for months. 

She had been cooking and eating, and cooking and eating, in a repetitive cycle. In her defence, she was perfecting certain meals which came as her requirement for work. But after perfecting, she ate.

Today was her first day of work and she was clueless when it came to what to put on her body. Her hair was one thing, but making a good impression was another. The Lebanese man, who had interviewed her, Balil, seemed nice enough. And pretty, but she chose not to dwell on that fact. But there was the entire kitchen staff that she was yet to meet.

The job that she had applied for was not exactly a low-key one. She was going to be second in command, a sous chef to one of the best hotels’ top chef. He or she could be tall or short, black, white or mixed. Even fat. She had no idea. 

Guess I’ll find out.

A message bubble popped up on her gold iPhone 6s+ that lay on the dresser in front of her as she tried to tame her unruly hair. Bad hair day on her first day. How cliché.

Jade: Still mad. Wear something presentable please, don’t embarrass me. I’ll see you after work.

Zelah just sighed and focused on the impossible task of getting her hairband around her thick hair. It hung low over her face and she cursed as strands found their way in her mouth. Even after damping it with water an hour before, it was still long—the only evidence was that it dripped water even after she patted it dry a few hundred times with her towel.

She now regretted not letting Jade sleep over the night before; she could’ve helped with her hair-situation. But the fact remained constant, and it was one of the reasons why she didn’t let her stay. The girl was a bad influence, which was refreshing for her close to boring life—but she didn’t need it the night before work. A sober mind and a clear head was the key to her success.

Sighing, she relented and did the one hairstyle that never failed her. A messy but not really messy bun at the top of her head. She had to do something about her hair, and fast.

Satisfied, she turned to the side one more time to see her backside. The trouser wasn’t supposed to fit her exact size, and it did. It hugged her thighs snuggly, and she felt a little uncomfortable and considered changing for a second. It lasted only a second though. She was glad that she was putting on a bit of weight and getting thick in all the right places. It was one positive thing about her recluse life. The one she tried to live, when Jade would let her.

She hurriedly gathered her black leather bag off the chair and threw a wistful glance at her room floor. It looked even messier than it was a minute ago. But she tore herself away from the door and left her apartment in a hurry. One of the pill bottles that decorated her dresser got taken and placed in her bag—there was no time to take it.