“Everyone needs to calm down.” Aunty Blessing races to my defense. “Don’t worry, I’m making use of my contacts,” she says. “I know someone who works in investment banking, and he’s pretty senior too. Everything will be okay. Yinka will get a job. The earth will carry on spinning.”
“And what about Alex?” Mum cries, still attached to her dream son-in-law.
“There’s no Alex!” Aunty Blessing’s voice rises. “For goodness’ sake, Tolu. Alex isn’t the only bachelor in London.”
“But we’re running out of time!” Mum’s outrage fills the entire waiting area. Meanwhile, Aunty Debbie sits with her arms crossed as though no longer invested in the situation.
“It’s okay. We will continue to pray now,” Big Mama keeps saying in an effort to appease Mum.
“Yinka is thirty-one. Thirty-one!” Mum cries. “How long must I wait until she marries, ehn? Three? Four? Five years? Oya, where’s my bag?” She swivels around and snatches it from the floor. “I’m going to call Aunty Chioma.”
I have a flashback of Aunty Chioma at All Welcome Church, trying to set me up with her playboy son, Emmanuel.
My heart thumps. “Mum. Please don’t call her.”
But Mum is too busy rummaging for her phone.
That’s it. I don’t have to take this. Yes, I’ve lied, but I don’t have to listen while Mum pimps me out.
I grab my coat and walk away. Thankfully, no one calls me back, but as I reach the door, I bump straight into Uche.
“Oh, I was just on my way to come and get you all.”
Fighting back tears, I wrestle into my coat. “Sorry, Uche. I’m heading off now.”
“Already? Oh, okay. I suppose it is late.”
I glance down as I zip up my coat.
To my relief, all he says is, “Do you want to go and say good-bye to Kemi, then? I’ll see you later.”
He heads toward the waiting area, leaving me standing by the vending machine where above my head are two arrow signs—one for the maternity ward, the other for the exit.
I imagine that guilty look Kemi will give me if I tell her what just happened. And how I’ll feel if I ruin her special day.
I keep my head down as I scurry toward the exit, texting.
YINKA
Sorry, sis. Desperately need to wash my hair lol
Sorry I didn’t say bye. Congrats again x
Plan 3.0
OPERATION WEDDING DATE: MY PLAN TO HAVE A DATE FOR RACHEL’S WEDDING IN JULY!!!
OBJECTIVES
TASKS
DEADLINE
KPIs
1. Meet a guy virtually
? Sign up for online dating ? Hinge? Tinder? Christian Mingle?
ASAP!
? I meet a decent guy who is not a perv or a misogynist and is capable of holding a conversation ? I do not get catfished
2. If all else fails, meet Emmanuel
? Ask Mum for Emmanuel’s number and call him
Last resort
? We hit it off ? He reassures me that he is not a player and that he’s looking for a long-term relationship
Now look at what you’ve done
SATURDAY
Hello. Hello, Yinka. I’ve been trying to call you. Why won’t you pick up your phone, ehn? Anyway, I’ve texted you Emmanuel’s number. Make sure you call him o! I don’t want to hear any stupid nonsense, that he’s not your type. You’re getting old now. Beggars can’t be choosers. And what are you planning to do now that you don’t have a job, ehn? I can’t believe you lied to me. Kai! May God forgive you. Do you have enough money? Please. Let me know o. Don’t be suffering in silence if you’re struggling to pay the bills. Anyway, give me a call when you get this. ó dàbò?.
Today is Rachel’s bridal shower, and all afternoon my mind spins anxiously. Have Ola and Rachel’s mums already told them what happened? How will they react when I tell them the truth? Dammit. I knew I should have trusted my gut and told them before the shower. And will Mum ever let me forget that I lied to her? What if I exhaust every possible option and have no choice but to attend Rachel’s wedding alone? What if I spend the rest of my life alone?
I shake my head to dislodge the thoughts. Come on, Yinka. Be optimistic. At least I know where I went wrong. I put all my eggs in one basket. I did it with Alex and that job at Oscar Larrson. Well, now I’m going to broaden my horizons. As discreetly as I can, I reach for my phone and open the Hinge App, which I downloaded last night. See, I’ve already got four notifications.
Wassup baby. You look fine
Do you taste like chocolate? Wink, wink
You are my Eve and I am your Adam
Sexy eyes
I blow out my cheeks and stuff my phone away. It’s okay. It’s hardly been twenty-four hours.
Sitting forward, I tune in to the chatter on my side of the table. Jasmine, the extrovert with Kate Middleton–esque brown hair sitting to my left, is talking.
“My husband proposed to me in the Lake District,” she’s saying. “Up in a hot air balloon.”
I quickly tune out again.
I gaze around. Kudos to Ola for finding this place. It’s one of those posh hotels with chandeliers and marble floors. You know, the ones with Baylis & Harding handwash in lavender-scented toilets. We have a private room booked for a few hours of afternoon tea and games. We’ve already done the games—“Guess Who Knows Rachel Best” and “Make a Wedding Dress Out of Toilet Roll”—and the speeches, to which Rachel and a couple of others shed a few tears, and now we’re all just chatting around the table, eating leftover cake until we get chucked out. Only a few more minutes and I’ll be able to escape.
I glance over at Rachel, sitting at the head of the table, which Nana and I decorated with confetti and mini pom-poms. She adjusts her bride-to-be sash and steals a tart from the cake stand.
“Cheat day,” she says, holding the tart like it’s a champagne glass. She mimics toasting to herself and scarfs it.
I smile. I’m not quite sure how much weight she has lost since setting her goal, but she looks great. And happy.
I look around the long table. Everyone is wearing either floral or pastel-colors. I must look gothic in my dark cocktail dress.
“You all right?”
Directly opposite me, Ola shoots me a look of concern. Today her natural hair is gelled back and held down with lots of pins.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
“You’ve been quiet, that’s all.”
“I think I’m coming on my period,” I whisper.
“We’re all girls here,” she laughs. “Now eat up. Paid forty-five quid for this.”
I force a laugh and pick up my brownie, my intestines knotting, as though I’m really having menstrual cramps. I don’t think Aunty Debbie has told Ola about my nonexistent promotion. Or that things didn’t work out with Alex. I chew miserably.
Right. As soon as the rest go home, I’m just going to tell Ola and Rachel the truth.
“So, who’s next?” says Jasmine. She has been prying into everyone’s love life for the last hour. And now she’s started this stupid conversation about when everyone first met their other half.
Jasmine surveys the table. “How about you?” she says, nodding to Ola. “I see a ring on your finger. How did you and your husband meet?” She obviously only thinks hetero relationships count.