I’m covered in dust and decide to take a shower before I settle down to work.
I take my time in the shower and lather on my body oil, Nivea, and spritz myself with the azalea body spray my mother keeps stocked in every bathroom.
Saturated and smelling so good I could kiss myself, I stroll out of the bathroom languid from the hot, high-pressure shower and flop naked and damp onto the bed to air dry.
“I thought I heard the shower running.” My mother’s voice comes out of nowhere.
“Ma!” I yelp and jump off the bed grab the dark pink cloth from the back of the door and wrap it around myself.
“Oh please, I don’t know where you learned this foolish modesty from.” She sucks her teeth and steps aside as I come back out of the bathroom.
“It’s not foolish. It’s normal.” I secure the knot in my makeshift halter neck.
She humphs a breath. “Who do you think was changing your nappies and digging compacted feces out with my bare hands when you were constipated?”
I groan. “Ma, please.”
“What? If I spare the details, the story isn’t as interesting,” she shoots back and sits down on my bed.
“We used to wear our cloth like that in boarding school when it was too hot to get dressed. Who taught you to tie yours like that?”
“Ediri. When we were in college.”
“How is she and that lovely husband of hers? Did she decide what to wear to her luncheon next week?”
I chuckle. “You’d know that better than me,” I remind her.
My mother loves having Ediri to fawn over. In some ways she’s closer to my mom than I am. I used to be jealous of it. Now I’m glad she has someone who can give her that. “She’s great. She just opened a new branch of her flower shop in Clapham Junction.”
“See, she can have it all. So can you.”
“So you keep saying,” I mutter and pull out my clothes.
“What are you doing on a Friday afternoon? I thought you’d come tomorrow,” she says, walking over to my bed.
“I came to look for some files I left in those boxes in the garage and to spend the weekend if you guys are cool with that.”
She sits next to my open suitcase and starts rifling through it, her expression creased with puzzlement. “Why didn’t you bring any real clothes, Sin? It’s Labor Day. We’ll have people here.”
“Hmmm, funny because I thought those clothes were real. Scary to find out they’re just a figment of my imagination that you can see, too.”
“You don’t take anything seriously.”
“Of course I do, but your critique of my clothes wasn’t serious to begin with so I was just matching the mood.” I stick my tongue out.
“Fine, I’ll go look in my closet for something you can wear.”
“Don’t worry. I brought a dress. It’s hanging in my closet.”
She purses her lips and closes the case with a resigned sigh. “Instead of playing with my emotions, make yourself useful.”
I kiss my afternoon nap goodbye and turn around to face her. “How?” I ask even though I already know what’s coming.
“I need to cook a mountain of food and clean the floors in the foyer and sunroom. Now I have help.”
I stifle my groan. I haven’t been home for an hour. The last thing I want to do is rehash my role as her girl of all work. “Where’s Adonis?”
She narrows her eyes at me and sucks her teeth. “Instead of looking for your brother, you should be rolling up your sleeves.”
