You’re funny x
Heh. Funny indeed.
Kofi hadn’t been able to look me straight in the eye for two consecutive days. Apparently, Sade had let slip to him about our girl chat, and now, things had become slightly awkward in the office. After the third day, I’d had enough.
‘Kofi, I know you’ve been avoiding me,’ I said eventually, after getting off a call with a patient. ‘I’m assuming it’s because of my chat with Sade—’
‘Aht aht!’ Kofi said, turning around to face me, even though his eyes were darting in every direction except mine. ‘I really don’t wanna know what you guys were talking about, let’s just … let’s just gloss over it and pretend this conversation didn’t happen. It’s embarrassing, man.’
‘But it did happen, Kof! And while I won’t divulge what we spoke about, I’ll tell you this! I’m proud of you. You just keep making her happy, you hear me? If she’s happy, I’m happy. Mmkay?’
Silence as his eyes finally landed on mine. I could see he wanted to laugh – the corners of his eyes were turned up slightly, and he was struggling to hold in a smirk.
‘OK. Fair enough, man. Also, who’s this guy you’re seeing then?’
Sade and her mouth. I loved that girl, but she could be a bit of a jabberjaw at times. I really needed to sit down with her at some point and tell her to rein it in sometimes. I really hoped she hadn’t told Kofi how me and Theo had come to know each other.
‘Err … how much did Sade tell you about that?’ I replied warily as I swivelled the chair back to my desk. All of a sudden, I felt incredibly awkward talking about Theo outside of my best friend.
‘Oh, not much,’ he responded. ‘Just that you had started seeing someone and that he was treating you well so far. I’m happy for you, Cassie – you genuinely deserve it.’
I turned around and patted him on the shoulder. That was really sweet of him to say. ‘Thanks, buddy. Yeah, he’s a nice guy. Erm, we just met on a dating app, same as all the others, and it’s going well so far.’
He smiled. ‘Good, I’m glad to hear it.’
The rest of the day went by in a bit of a blur, with me predominantly thinking about what to wear for that Friday. During lunch, I downloaded a few of those sex podcasts in a bid to hopefully learn about any new tricks or tips that could come in handy. The whole point of this arrangement was for him to satisfy me, but I couldn’t help but want to do my part too. I wanted to leave him wanting more, and if it meantlearning how to get my leg around my head for a few minutes, then so be it!
‘Oh, by the way, Jeff is doing a training course thingy at St George’s Hospital for the next two weeks so I cleared his calendar while you were at lunch and assigned his new patients to Miss Shimoda for next week.’
‘Oh?’ I replied confused. He hadn’t sent me an email about it. I’d wondered why I hadn’t seen him around recently. Had he been avoiding me? ‘I didn’t get any emails or anything from him, that’s annoying that he wouldn’t let me know.’
‘Oh, interesting. He sent the email to about six of us the other day.’ I checked my emails; nothing. Not that I was overly concerned or anything. Ever since our awkward encounter in the staffroom, and at the pub, I’d been trying to keep a bit of a wide berth, so him being absent for the next couple of weeks suited me just fine.
I’d planned to meet my mum for a quick drink and a chat in Whitehall – which was just up the road from me – after work as I wanted to check in with her to see if she was feeling a bit better after the whole Dad debacle. After saying my goodbyes to Kofi and packing up, I decided to stretch my legs and walk across the bridge to meet her, instead of taking the bus.
Fifteen minutes later, I had arrived at a tiny wine bar on the corner of Whitehall, and saw that my mum was already there. She looked so beautiful and corporate in her salmon-pink waistcoat co-ord set and black kitten heels. She was sitting in a corner booth, shouting into her phone, which was on loudspeaker, not giving a damn about the other patrons in the bar. Would she be an African mum if she wasn’t shouting loudly into some kind of device? She looked up, beaming as I approached, and gave me a hug.
‘Baby! It’s good to see you. I ordered you a rum and Coke,’Mum said, as she put her phone away and turned to face me, eyes sharp and piercing. My mum was one of the most beautiful people I knew and, growing up, I was always slightly in awe of her. The way she was able to light up a room with her confidence, her effervescent personality and her beauty amazed me. She was a size 18 and had been that size her whole life, and she never let what others thought of her body hold her back from feeling confident and secure in her skin. She brought me up to be the same way, which is where I think I got the savage confidence in myself from. She swirled her glass of red wine as she surveyed me quietly.
‘How are you doing? How’s work? How is the dating going?’ The barrage of questions caught me slightly off-guard at first. I wasn’t used to my parents asking about my life outside of ‘when are you going to get married?’ and ‘when are you going to start thinking about having children?’, but she did ask about my dating life so we’ll probably get to the breeding part of my life eventually.
‘Everything’s good, Mum! Work is great, I’m great. Err, I’m not really seeing anyone … not really. But we’ll see.’ I took a cautious sip of my rum and Coke. My mum didn’t need to know about my recent hobby just yet.
‘But enough about me,’ I said hastily, trying to change the subject. ‘How are you feeling? Have you spoken with Dad? I chatted to him earlier and told him to back off a little bit. He doesn’t really seem to be getting the picture, annoyingly.’
At the mention of Dad, my mum straightened up and almost hissed. If their beef wasn’t so ridiculous and draining, I’d almost low-key encourage them to get back together. The whole ‘divorced-parents-who-have-a-love–hate-relationship’ trope was really working for them here.
‘Please. That man was the biggest mistake of my life. The only good things I got out of it were you and Steven,’ sheadded hastily. ‘Outside of blocking his number, I don’t really know what else to do. I’ve even spoken to his mum about it and she agrees that he needs to move on! I think it’s something about Femi that threatens him.’
‘I mean, that’s obvious enough, Mum. Femi is consistent and generous and caring. And, more importantly, he loves you loudly and unapologetically. Everyone can see just how much he dotes on you – he treats you like the queen you are and I think Dad can see that too.’
Mum gazed thoughtfully at her glass, lost in contemplation. I’d never seen her happier than recently with Femi by her side, but my dad – ever the stubborn thorn – refused to leave it.
‘You know he called your auntie Gifty and talked to her for three hours about me? Telling her all this nonsense about how I’m going to regret marrying Femi. How Femi is a conman out to take my money, and all this rubbish about how he still loves me? He makes me sick; especially with how he treated you and Steven – but especially you – growing up. You didn’t deserve that. My children didn’t deserve that level of neglect at all.’
She stared into the distance – talking more to herself at this point than to me – and I could see her eyes begin to well with tears. I took her hand in mine, and for a fleeting moment, we shared something unspoken as memories of my childhood washed over me. For the most part, it had always been just me, Steve and Mum at home – Dad was rarely around, always blaming work for his absence. Years later, we would learn that ‘work’ was just a convenient excuse for something else – other women. Being at home was always a tense affair when he was there due to his heated temper tantrums and all the emotional abuse. We didn’t have the best time of it growing up, but Steve and I somehow managed to turn out fine for the most part. Steve more so than me, but here we are.
‘You did your best, Mum,’ I said reassuringly, now blindingly aware that we were two women sitting in a bar trying not to cry. ‘The only person that should be sitting with themselves to really internalise what they’ve done and how they’ve acted is him. At least we know he’s not invited to your wedding, hey?’
