Glory woke up in Julian’s bed, wrapped in his smell. To think only a couple of days ago they had been on their first proper date, and now she was watching him sleep. She felt sick with how much she liked him, amazed by how they had been thrown together so intimately by the circumstances of their meeting and everything that came after.
She liked him so much she might even end up cooking for him. Glory started planning a Sunday brunch menu, and got up to see what Julian’s cupboards might have to offer and what she would have to buy.
She was bent over, looking into the top freezer compartment when Julian entered the kitchen.
“Now this is what every man dreams of waking up to,” he said, watching Glory from the doorway. “What you going to cook for us?”
“Nothing,” Glory said, turning around and shutting the freezer door. “Julian, you have nothing in your kitchen apart from leftovers and frozen boxes of rice that I assume your auntie cooked for you. Don’t you cook at all? Not even Indomie?”
“I’m a busy man,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m a businessman!”
“Well, there’s nothing for me to cook, so what do you wanna do? Do you want to go out to eat?” Glory leaned against the fridge and folded her arms.
“I’d love to but I’ve actually got errands to run this morning,” Julian said, running a hand over his head and looking apologetic.
“Oh.” Glory could not hide her disappointment. “On a Sunday?”
“Yeah, if I’d known you were staying over I could’ve planned differently.”
“No problem, I’ll probably head home then.”
“You can stay here. I won’t be that long.”
“No, it’s fine,” Glory replied. “I need to have a shower and eat something proper!”
Glory kissed Julian on the cheek, more to prove to herself that she wasn’t pissed off than for his benefit, and went to gather her things.
She found her phone in the bedroom and saw a message from Lará:
“Sorry, I’m only responding now. Was at a boring dinner. You free today?”
“Perfect!” Glory typed back. “Just need to get ready but tell me when and where.”
“All right, I’m going, I’ll speak to you later, yeah?” Glory called from the hallway as she slipped on her shoes.
Julian came to stand in the doorway.
“You don’t have to leave you know?” he said, resting an arm on the door frame.
“It’s fine, I’m gonna meet a friend.”
“Who?” Julian said, frowning.
“Lará.”
“OK. Cool.”
As quick as she had been to leave, Glory didn’t actually want to go back to her house. As long as she didn’t open that door, whatever complications lay behind number 23 did not exist—at least, for the night.
Before she reentered she actually prayed, bargaining with God that if she opened the door and her mother was OK, then she would go to church one day soon. She made her pact on the doorstep, allowing a few seconds for it to process, before swinging open the door and seeing what she might find.
The front room was empty and dark; the house was quiet.
“Mummy?” Glory called, but there was no answer. Maybe she had gone to church.
Glory climbed the stairs and called again into the still darkness: “Mummy?”
“Yes?” came the hoarse response and Glory walked across the landing and into her mother’s bedroom.
Celeste was sitting on the edge of her bed in a flimsy nightdress, her shoulders stooped and her head down.
“Mummy what’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” Celeste said weakly.
“Are you sure?”
Glory reached to touch her mother’s shoulder, but Celeste shrugged away her hand.
“I said I’m fine, jàre!”
Glory let her hand drop, not sure what to do.
“Do you want me to call Faith?”
“No. Where have you been?”
“I stayed with a friend.”
“Which friend?”
“You don’t know them. I’m meeting up with Lará though.”
“Oh!” Celeste’s suspicions dissolved. “Greet her for me.”
“I will . . . Are you sure you don’t want me to do anything for you before I leave, Mummy?”
“No, go and see your friend.”
Celeste waved her daughter away, so reluctantly Glory left to have a shower and change into fresh clothes, stopping by her mother’s room to check in on her one last time. But her mother was not there.
Instead Glory found her in the kitchen, wrist deep in a bowl of water as she prepared dried beans for soaking and peeling.
“I thought I would make some àkàrà for us,” Celeste said with a warm smile. “Do you remember when I used to make it for you when you were a little girl? You would always ask for àkàrà and ògì for your birthday breakfast. Do you remember?”
Celeste’s eyes were swimming with nostalgia, but Glory was sure she was mistaken. She couldn’t remember ever asking for àkàrà and ògì for breakfast. She was definitely a Coco Pops girl.
“Mummy, I’m going out—remember? With Lará.”
Celeste’s face clouded over for a brief moment.
“Oh, of course,” she said, removing her hands from the bowl of beans and wiping them on her nightdress. “I need to let these beans soak for longer, anyway. Greet Lará for me, ehn?”
“I will, Mummy,” Glory said, watching her mother for a moment with weary concern, before turning to leave.