I take a quick glance at my watch. We only have less than an hour to go. Alex works in central London. There’s no way he’ll make it in time.
“Hello? Yinka? Are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m still here.” I speak quietly, afraid my voice will wobble.
“Do you mind if I just give it to you after church on Sunday?” he suggests.
“Yeah, that’s fine.” I try to sound unbothered.
“I’m sorry,” Alex says again, and this time he really sounds it. “I only realized that I didn’t have it, like, a few minutes ago.”
I consider saying, “I’ll forgive you, if you make it up to me,” but I’m not so brave.
“You have another winter jacket to wear in the meantime, right?”
“No,” I say bluntly. I laugh. “Just kidding. And don’t work so hard. I know you love your job and everything, but don’t forget you have a home, right?” I picture his beautiful face as he laughs.
“Right. I need to get back to work, otherwise I’ll be camping here all night.”
“Good luck.”
“Cheers. Bye.”
“You good?” says Donovan, looking at me quizzically.
I stare at my phone, disappointed.
“Yeah, I’m okay.” I try to sound casual, but inside I’m throwing a hissy-fit. “It’s just, my friend was supposed to come, and now he’s not.”
“Sounds more than just a friend to me.” Donovan wags his brow.
But I am not in a mood to be wagged at.
“Do you know what? I’m tired of you.” And to demonstrate how tired I am, I walk away.
“Wait, what did I do?” I hear Donovan call after me.
Yinka . . . are we cool?
THURSDAY
ALEX
Hey, U good?
Been posting some of my Nigerian dishes on my Insta
See how many you can name
Add me
@AlexKehinde_Jr.
YINKA
Listen yeah
I’m Naija thru and thru
Humble yourself child lol
And don’t forget, you lived in Nigeria once. You had a head start!
I’ve just added you
Though it looks like your account is private
You gonna have to accept my request
I scuttle into the venue and simultaneously glance at my watch. Phew. Made it just in time. After my interview at Oscar Larson ended, I quickly bought a bagel to eat on the go, then jumped on the Tube and made my way to Old Street station. I’m buzzing—I really feel like I’ve nailed it.
Nana is already here, waiting by the reception desk. She looks up.
“Hey!” she says. “You made it.”
We hug and she pats my face. “You’re a little shiny.”
I dab my forehead. “The Tube was rammed.”
“The event manager will be out in a sec. Tell me. How did your interview go?”
“I smashed it.” I grin. “Cara, the HR manager, was sooo impressed. The interview was pretty much conversational. All my nerves went away. Oh, and check this. Cara said she loved my CV. I was scared whether me being at Godfrey for eight years would work against me, but I didn’t get any bad vibes from her at all.”
“Oh, Yinka. I’m so proud of you.” Nana bundles me into another hug. I can’t stop smiling. I’m proud of myself. For the first time in days, I feel like I’m the old Yinka, who knows what she’s about.
She lets go of me. “Did she mention when you’re likely to hear back?”
“Latest, Monday,” I reply. “Not to be cocky or anything, but I think I’ve got this one in the bag. Though I’ve still got the second round of interviews to go, and there will most likely be a third. But Cara saying that I’ll hear back so soon can only be a positive sign, right?”
Nana nods. “Yeah, I’ve got a good feeling about this too.” She looks at her phone and frowns. “Rachel’s running late. And Ola’s no longer coming. Couldn’t find a babysitter.”
I haven’t spoken to Rachel or Ola since what went down at Nando’s. Rachel keeps flooding our “I’m Getting Married, Biatch” WhatsApp group with photos of dresses, flowers—practically her entire Pinterest wedding board. But not once has she got in touch to find out whether I’m doing okay. Just like at school, she’s pretending we’re all getting on great. As for Ola, well, she’s never bothered to return my calls, and yet she finds ample time to be active on Rachel’s WhatsApp group. It’s a bit of a slap in the face, really, given I called her to apologize. Anyway, I’m no longer going to waste my energy on her. Even just thinking about the situation is getting me annoyed.
“Nana?”
Nana and I turn to a tall, dark-haired man wearing a navy tie and white shirt. Nana extends an arm. He shakes her hand.
“Hi, there. I’m Frank, the events manager. I believe you want to have a look at the main hall?”
“I love it, I love it, I love it,” Nana gushes, swirling around with her arms wide, as I take in the vastness of the rectangular hall. I gaze up at the high ceiling fitted with LED lights and steel beams, and two frosted skylights in the middle.
“We can have the catwalk here. And a DJ there.” Nana is throwing her hands in different directions. “There’s already a built-in bar at the back. Yinka, this place is perfect.”
“It is,” I agree, trying my best to visualize.
As Frank runs through the hall specs, I decide to make myself useful. I take out my phone with the intention of taking photos. But before I do that, I’ll just have a quick look on Insta . . . Hmm. Alex hasn’t yet accepted my request to follow him. I hop over to WhatsApp to see whether Alex is online. His status shows that he was last seen over two hours ago. Knowing him, he’s probably still at work.
“Sorry, I have to get this,” says Nana, cutting Frank off mid-sentence. “Hey, Rachel,” she says after answering her phone. “You’re at reception? Great!” She lowers her phone a bit. “Yinka, do you mind?”
When I arrive at the reception desk, Rachel is staring at the bulletin board wearing a long red wrap coat over her pointy leather boots and munching on a granola bar.
“They’re low in calories,” she says after she sees me.
“Hey,” I lean forward hesitantly, but she squeezes me and says, “Good to see you, sis.”
I lead the way down the corridor while Rachel vents about her terrible journey. She practically talks to herself all the way to the hall.
“Oooh, is this it?” she says as I walk in front, hearing the clank of her boots behind me. “Hey, where’s Nana?”
I shrug. “Probably out back talking to the manager.”
“Damn, this space is noice,” she says, her voice echoing. “Hey, maybe I should have my wedding here.”
She lets out a theatrical laugh, and I make a point of not joining her. Instead, I fish out my phone and busy myself by taking photos.
“Sooo.” She turns to me. “What do you think of the hall?”
I snap away. Swipe through the photos. Take another one. “Like you said, it’s nice.” I lift my phone to take photos of the ceiling. I can sense Rachel watching me, silent confusion setting in.