MR SENSUAL, MISS SASSY

THEY ARE YOUR TRIGGER.

I woke up to a tray of oatmeal with berries scattered on it and I saw a pink, paper bag beside the tray. When I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, Chike was absent from my side. The pink bag and food must have come from him as a 'thank you' maybe.

I ignored the food and took the bag. It contained a blue, off shoulder dress and a new pair of lingerie. I was glad I wasn't going to repeat my outfit, I didn't want to look like a homeless person beside Chike's mom who had been elegant thus far.

After getting out from the bathroom and wearing the blue dress, I went in search of Chike. He wasn't in his room, I went back to the room I slept in and folded the clothes and undies I wore the day before into the pink bag. We could leave anytime, I was prepared. I found my way around the wing and saw the staircase leading downstairs. I took extra care to memorize my way to Chike's wing the day before, so it was easy for me to find the curved stairs.

The silent housekeeper I never saw but heard of showed herself in a white apron and cap, she looked to be around fifty and she told me where the family was gathered. When I walked outside towards the direction I was shown, I saw Chike with his parents around a table eating breakfast.

"Good morning," I said to them when I got closer.

"This is the beautiful lady my wife has been talking about. I'm Chike's father, hope you slept well?" Chike's dad asked and helped me with a seat.

He wasn't as tall as his son but I could still see some sort of resemblance. They had the same piercing eyes and his head was also full of hair, where his son's was black, his was a mixture of black and grey.

"I did. Thank you," I said and looked at Chike's mom who was buttering a toast. "Thanks for having me," I said to her.

It was obvious Chike took everything on his mom's face apart from the eyes. He must have gotten his height from another member of his family because his mother was of average height.

"You don't have to thank me, my dear. You brought our son home." She looked like she had a great massage session because she had a new glow on her face.

"Hey," I said to Chike, who was beside me.

"Hey," he replied, concentrating on his meal.

I took sandwich from the table and poured myself a glass of milk.

"So, what exactly do you do?" Chike's dad asked.

"I'm a celebrity stylist and a designer."

"And what does my son do for you?" he asked.

"He's one of the models for my clothing line."

"So you stopped singing to start modelling, interesting," he said.

"It is, considering the fact that they earn a lot when they get noticed by exotic brands," I said.

"When, that's the operative word. How old are you, boy?" His voice carried loud and clear like a whiplash.

"Twenty-seven," Chike answered.

"You're too old to be this visionless. You think your mom and I were gallivanting the entire city claiming to be musicians at your age?"

"It's not a claim, I sing," Chike said.

"Pretty well too, if I may add," I said to lighten the tension that was building up.

"If he sings so well, where are the deals he has gotten?" Chike's dad asked.

"I'll get there," Chike said.

"Stop this nonsense, son and join the company. I sent you to school to study something profitable but you chose music. A damn waste."

The bread in my mouth turned to sawdust as I heard Chike's dad talk. I took Chike's hand under the table and squeezed. The air was filled with strain, and I expected Chike's mom to stop the insults that were raining on her son's head but she only nodded and ate her meal. If you judged the scene by her expression, you'd think we were at a fancy tea party. It was an unusual scene, I grew up poor but my parents were at least loving and supporting.