I suppress a rising laugh. Clearly not every woman here is single. So I can only assume that a good number of them are screaming and howling on behalf of their single daughters.
I feel like we’re on that episode of The Oprah Winfrey Show. You know, the one where she said, “You get a car. You get a car. You get a car.”
I’m looking around, bemused, then spot Derek in his all-black usher uniform strolling down the center aisle.
Our eyes meet.
Argh! I turn away quickly. Dammit. I told Derek that I wasn’t going to be visiting All Welcome for a while.
I feel a knot in my neck as I watch Pastor Adekeye return to the pulpit.
“You may all take your seats.”
There’s the shuffling sound of a mass of bodies moving. It’s only when I’m in my chair that I realize something.
Hold on. What about the men in the congregation? I know that there aren’t as many men here as there are women, but surely Pastor Adekeye has to be consistent? How about their marriage prospects?
But Pastor is already flicking through his Bible. “Okay. Let’s open up the Word . . .”
Twenty million hours later . . .
I’m mentally exhausted. And somehow, I have to get up enough energy to impress Alex. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea.
Around me, people rise and bustle their way to the exit. I look over to Mum. She’s busy talking to the passing aunties making their way down the aisle. That woman is so popular.
“You didn’t mention yesterday that you were coming today?” says Kemi.
I turn to her. She’s resting her head on Uche while he runs his thumb over her shoulder.
“Oh, you know . . . I just fancied a change. Uche! Good to see you. Not long now until you become a dad.”
As Uche tells me about his excitement to become a father and the various YouTube channels he’s been following to prepare, I feel moved. He’s such a good guy. I could not have picked a better brother-in-law.
“Sorry, remind me. When are you due again?” I ask, after Uche has finished speaking.
“Come on, Yinka. April twelfth!” says Kemi. “I swear I’ve told you like ten times already.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” I pull out my phone. “Okay. I’ll put it in my diary so that I won’t forget.”
After I tap open my calendar, I think back to my plan. Once Kemi has a baby, I’m sure I’ll be seeing Mum and my aunties more often. I really hope this meeting with Alex amounts to something.
Kemi sits up. “We need to head off. I have to return something to Argos. Then we’re going to meet up with Mum and head to B&Q.”
“We’re buying paint for the nursery,” Uche explains, and he stands first before helping Kemi to her feet.
“You should come,” Kemi says, shoving each arm into the coat that Uche is kindly helping her into.
I look over at Mum, who is proudly telling a passing aunty about her “expecting daughter.” Where’s Aunty Debbie? I can’t meet Alex without her. “Hmm. Maybe next time.”
Thankfully, Kemi doesn’t pursue the matter further, and I hug her and Uche good-bye.
Suddenly, I feel a tap on my shoulder.
“Ah, Yinka. I thought it was you.”
I clamber to my feet and genuflect to greet Aunty Chioma, who owns a hair salon and knows everyone’s business. She has a distinctive mole on her nose, and her face foundation never quite matches her neck. The flamboyant gèlè she’s wearing today is so large that I feel sorry for the person who sat behind her.
“So how far, Yinka? How’s it going? I haven’t seen you in a while now.” Aunty Chioma’s red lips pinch into a smile.
“Fine, thanks, Aunty.” Keep it short and sweet.
Aunty Chioma is swaying ever so slightly. Then she moves her head about as if she’s looking for something. I frown and look around me too.
“Tell me. Where is your huzband, ehn?”
I fake smile. Why didn’t I see this coming? Mum told me that Aunty Chioma has been trying to marry off her son for a while now. The same son I used to attend Sunday school with, and from what I’ve heard from my old friends here, is now a bit of a player. Thankfully, before she can introduce him, our conversation is cut short by Mum, who greets Aunty Chioma hastily and tells her that we have to get going.
“Tolu! Don’t forget to speak to Yinka about my son Emmanuel, okay?”
“Yes, yes.” Mum waves a vague hand and prods me along.
“Mum!” I huff.
I follow Mum through the body traffic occupying the center aisle. I’m nervous now. What if Alex is not at all what Aunty Debbie hyped him up to be? But it’s too late to change my mind, because we are nearing the stage where the traffic clears a little, and lo and behold, Aunty Debbie is waiting there, dressed as though she’s going to Ascot.
“Yinka! You came.” She smothers me into her bosom, and I get a mouthful of her pearls. “I haven’t told Alex about you,” she says. “So this introductory meeting should be pretty spontaneous.” I watch as she eyes my hair then fluffs the ends without permission. “Come with me.” She grins and pulls my hand.
We walk down a row of chairs and sidestep over legs and handbags, Aunty Debbie leading the way, Mum at my back. Eventually, we stop behind a man in a blue shirt who’s sitting in the front row.
My heart thumps. Well, at least the back of his head is nice.
“Alex.” Aunty Debbie taps the man on the shoulder. “I want to introduce you to someone.”
He turns around, and I swear, I lose my breath.
Shit, my brain immediately thinks. Sorry, God. I mean, holy macaroni. Alex is foine. And I mean, dead fine.
Alex rises to his feet and stands over six foot tall. He has chocolate skin so smooth, it makes me think of cocoa butter, and he has this Tyson Beckford air about him. I think it’s his eyes and his cheekbones. And his lips. Oh my gosh, his lips. He has that pink bottom lip that I like.
I swallow. “Hi,” my mouth says for me, clearly not waiting for Aunty Debbie to do the introduction. “I’m Yinka.” And you’re friggin’ hot.
“Yinka’s my niece,” Aunty Debbie chips in while I’m still staring. “Yinka. This is Alex. One of my tenants.”
“Nice to meet you,” Alex says, and my thighs wobble. He has one of those deep, sexy voices that I can picture myself happily staying up all night listening to.
Alex sticks out his hand, and I shake it slowly. Ooh, someone has quite a grip.
“And this is my sister. Yinka’s mum.”
Alex proceeds to greet Mum in the traditional way of Yoruba men. Or tries to. He bends forward to prostrate but because the space is limited, his hand doesn’t quite graze the floor.
“Ah!” Mum shrieks, clearly impressed by his efforts. “I like this man o. I really like him.”
Cringe!
She stares at his face for a while, then says something to Aunty Debbie in Yoruba. Alex clearly understands, as he says, “è??e, Ma,” which I know in English means “Thank you, Ma.”
“So you understand Yoruba!” Mum exclaims, officially hijacking this meeting.
“Of course.” Alex says this as though to say, Why wouldn’t I? Then in an impressive Nigerian accent, he says, “I may be born here, but I’m a Nigerian first.”