Chapter 10 #3
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Jeff standing in line to pay for his food.
Instinctively, I tried to avoid eye contact, but it was too late – he’d already seen me and started to wave erratically.
God, he was cheesy. Forcing a quick smile, I waved back and tapped my earphones, signalling that I was on a call.
Thankfully, he got the hint, nodded, and headed to the far end of the cafeteria to join a group of other consultants.
Phew. I was fresh out of small talk that day.
I returned to the solace of my food and my music; Mya slid seamlessly into Destiny’s Child, their harmonies dripping with promises of honeyed love and devotion.
I poked at my meal, wondering what being in a relationship was actually like.
According to the R silky, effortless and beautiful.
I’d suddenly realised in that moment that since speaking to Jericho, I hadn’t opened up any of my dating apps once, which was quite the achievement.
With Destiny’s Child still in my ears belting out the lyrics to ‘Dangerously in Love’, I opened up Hinge and took a brief look at the offerings on parade for the women of London today:
Fraser, 34, Brixton. Freelance Creative. ‘Message me if you’re a gym nut like me. Under thirties with athletic bodies only.’
Emmanuel, 39, Stoke Newington. Creative. ‘Don’t just message me saying ‘hi’. Be a woman of substance. Don’t message if u have masculine energy.’
Robert, 36, Stockwell. Finance (Crypto). ‘Looking for my Lori Harvey, Chloe Bailey or Zendaya!!! Holla at man if you look like any of them innit xx.’
Malachi, 33, Shepherd’s Bush. Entrepreneur. ‘Here for casual dates only. Say hi.’
Jesus Jerome Christ.
I took a deep exhale as I closed the app.
I could see why so many peers of mine were beginning to date internationally at this point.
I’d been reading more and more think pieces lately from women who were in long-distance relationships, waxing lyrical about the benefits of dating someone from a completely different culture.
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about taking an impromptu trip to New York for a week or two, just to check out the local talent.
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
I ate the rest of my meal in silence, while casually swiping through different guys’ profiles on the main three dating apps I was on.
I’d decided that I couldn’t just rest all my laurels on Jericho – I still had to actively put myself out there, lest I randomly one day come across my Prince Charming.
As I swiped, I saw a notification ping from the family group chat; it was from my mum and she sounded mad:
My dear children??? Your dad is pissing me off. I need for one of you to speak to him before I KNOCK HIS HEAD!!
I decided to take the bait and ask what had happened; nothing wrong with squeezing in a little last-minute family drama before heading back to the office.
Lol Mum, what’s happened now?
The fact that Mum was texting me in the middle of her workday was a clear sign that she was furious.
She had a prestigious job – Senior Client Service Officer at Coutts Bank, no less – and would never normally call or text during work hours unless it was something incredibly urgent or wild.
What had Dad done now? I had assumed that my little chat with him last week would have settled things down, but fucking alas!
As I made myself a coffee to go, I received a flurry of notifications in the group chat:
Steve: Oh ffs. What’s he done now? I’m at work at the moment so if I don’t respond immediately, that’s why.
Mummy: He’s been sending me angry text messages all evening and morning. Asking me to leave Femi … asking if we can catch up and have a conversation … he’s saying he’s a changed man and all of these things. I’m so tired of this. Why can’t he just leave me alone?
I read the messages and shook my head, annoyed – not just at my dad’s petulance towards my mum, but at her insistence that we, as her children, be fully aware of all the chaos.
As African kids, we weren’t usually meant to be tangled up in grown folks’ business like this.
But as I got older, I realised I was increasingly stepping into a role that felt more like parenting my own parents.
Didn’t they have friends or other relatives to confide in?
I couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew too much about their private lives – about things that were never meant to be my burden.
I sighed as I made my way back towards the office to relieve Kofi as he took his lunch.
Kofi had come into work looking casket sharp – he seemed to have had his hair and beard trimmed up cleanly, and had come to work wearing a seemingly fresh pair of dark-brown slacks – complete with what looked like a dark-grey Thom Browne sweater with its signature four white stripes down the left arm.
He had drenched himself in some kind of amber- or clove-scented fragrance that took up the whole office, and for the first time ever, it looked as if his hands and lips were moisturised. I was impressed.
As Kofi made his way to go to lunch, I couldn’t help but make a playful dig:
‘Thom Browne, you know. I didn’t know we were doing that in this economy? We love to see it!’
Kofi laughed and straightened his sweater, ending with a silly pose, showing off his biceps.
‘It’s not my fault that some of us can afford designer, babes. Well … sixty per cent off on The Outnet actually. You either have it or you don’t, and as you know, I’ve got a hot date tonight, so …’ he replied, sassy as ever as he left the office.
After sending out a few emails and attending a couple of scheduled meetings with two of my consultants, I briefly opened the message group to catch up on the latest family drama.
Steven: Mum, just block him, man. There isn’t much we can do at this point.
Mummy: Can you not talk to him??
Steven: No disrespect, Mum, but it’s not for me to do. Bianca is due really soon so I’ve got my hands full with that and doing final bits for the spare bedroom, innit. Sorry.
Mummy: Wow. OK. I rarely ask you for help and the one time I beg you, you say this? I see.
Steven: …?
Mummy: @Cassandra??
Oh Lord.
As I geared up to type a diplomatic response, I received a separate, private message from Steven:
Cassie, wtf, man? Is she serious? Why is she crashing out on me like that? I really can’t be bothered with them two, I can’t lie.
I groaned. Steven had a lot on his plate as it was without having to play mediator to our parents’ issues too.
I felt for him, but as the oldest sibling, I knew that ultimately it would be down to me to somehow try and fix things between Mum and Dad.
Either that, or find a way to let them both know that they were old enough to sort their issues out themselves and to leave the kids out of their post-marital woes.
I didn’t fancy choosing the second option at present.
I replied back, trying to play peacemaker:
I hear you, bro. I think she’s just a bit stressed with her and Femi having to plan the wedding in a few months and stuff. She shouldn’t have said what she said to you; it’s quite unfair and a bit manipulative tbh. You and Bianca have your own things to be worrying about at the moment!!
I switched back to the main chat and wrote my response:
Cassandra: Hey Mum. I’m at work at the moment so I’m not that free to talk, but I agree with Steve.
Just block him. I’m not sure why you haven’t already.
Also, Steve is right; he’s having a baby next month.
I didn’t think it was fair for you to say what you said above to him, but I’ll call you later, OK?
A swift text back read:
Mummy: Wow. I see. All right.
I knew I would feel the brunt of her wrath later on at some point, but it needed to be said, one way or the other.
At 5.25 p.m., Kofi and I began to wind our computers down; we both had busy evenings ahead of us and needed to get into the zone.
‘Got a busy evening tonight?’ asked Kofi as he propped his headphones into the charger.
‘Um actually, yeah!’ I replied hesitantly, suddenly realising that I hadn’t really filled Kofi in on the whole ‘fake boyfriend’ charade at the pub last week. ‘I’ve got a second date with this guy I met on Hinge, not a big deal really.’
‘Oh nice, I’m happy for you!’ he replied, smiling. Phew. ‘Hopefully this guy is a good one.’
‘We can only hope,’ I replied, switching off my computer monitor. ‘Anyway, how are you feeling about your date tonight with Sade? What time is she getting here?’
‘She should be here in about fifteen minutes or so; I’m gonna meet her at the ground-floor reception. Wanna come with?’ he replied, putting on his jacket.
At that moment, my phone buzzed with several notifications at once.
The first was a text from Sade saying: Hopefully see you in a bit!
En route to you and Kofi xxx and the second was a notification from the OuiMeet app from Jericho, which read: Alchemist it is.
If you send me your address, I’ll pick you up. I’ll see your fine self later. :).
Pick me up?! I wanted to practically swoon at the proposition.
He was really going all out with this, and it made my heart (and ovaries) swell up even more.
I sent him my building address as I planned to meet him outside instead of having him come directly to my door.
I was an excited babe, but I was also a safe babe.