Chapter 2: CHAPTER 1
I hate mornings.
Most people love them. They say it's a wonderful feeling the sun shines through the blinds and gently warms your face into consciousness. To me? It's the feeling of wonderful sleep being dragged away from you by a scorching white light that reminds you that you have obligations and responsibilities that you would rather not do but you also don't want to be homeless so you have to do them.
I threw my alarm clock out my door. I know, why would I use an alarm clock when I have a phone? But after I threw my phone out the window, I thought it would be a better idea to get one.
I just wanted to stay in bed all day but had to leave soon if I wanted to get to work early. I was considering whether I should just call in sick but that would mean I would have to walk and get my phone that was charging then call and start explaining what was wrong with me. Way too much work.
Life definitely has too much stress
After much consideration and sudden hunger pangs, I literally dragged myself out of bed and made my way to the bathroom.
I looked at myself in the mirror. I had bags under my eyes. My long curly black hair was defying gravity. I honestly looked like I had been struck by lightning. My skin was looking weird as well.
Maybe I should have removed my makeup last night.
I had drooled in my sleep so I now had white marks at the corners of my lips. Long story made short, I looked like a hot mess.
Sighing, I went about getting ready. After a fierce battle between me and my hair with neither side winning, I had a quick shower. As I walked out, I went to my wardrobe to pick out an outfit that I was comfortable in. I settled for a light blue blouse with cream trousers and applied some make-up.
Satisfied, I made my way to my kitchen and decided to eat a muffin. Grabbing my keys from my dresser I made my way to the front door but just then my dad called me.
"E kaaro o, Dad"
" Kaaro o, Ella. Bawo ni?"
"Mo Dara, dad"
"I'm surprised you are up right now. You usually sleep till 10"
" Well, since I left the house, I have to get a job now. I have bills to pay not to mention I'm taking care of myself"
" Honey, come back home OK? I don't see why you have to get a job when you can get anything you want when you are with me and your mother " my dad said
"I need a job because I don't need you to take care of all my needs. I have to go to work now dad" I replied already tired. I already had this conversation one too many times and I was seriously over it.
"Just a minute. You're expected to be at home at seven today. Your uncle Richard and your cousins are coming so you must be there. O dabọ"
"Wait!.." but he had already ended the call. I groaned. I didn't have anything against Uncle Richard aside from the fact that he loved talking about the time I was little every time he came. It seemed every time he came he had a new story. My cousin Neil was hell-bent on making sure he used everything in his arsenal to make sure he annoyed me. My other cousin Chelsea was cool but she was always trying to get me a date or asking way too many questions about my love life. The only person I looked forward to seeing was Christian. He was the only one who didn't mock, annoy or interfere in my life.
What frustrated me, even more, was the fact that I was going to be hounded by my parents into returning home. I was the only daughter of Kenneth and Grace Adebowale. They both had made a name for themselves in criminal law and as such, I was their legacy. I was almost isolated my whole life and had very few friends.
I finally got my one chance at freedom when I moved out. At first, there were serious arguments but after I managed to convince them they surprisingly let up on the condition and picked where I would live. It was an apartment close to home so we all agreed. It wasn't exactly the life of comfort I was use to but I would take screaming neighbours and weird smells to screaming parents, constant monitoring and arguments.
I suddenly wondered why they suddenly wanted me to come back.
Looking at the clock, I realized that I was going to be late. I sighed and closed the door to my apartment. I was going to be late again, my hair was still stuck at odd angles and I had to attend a dinner I was far from interested in going to.
I definitely hated mornings.
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TRANSLATIONS
O dabọ: Goodbye
E kaaro o: Good morning ( also the same thing as "Kaaro o" just that this is the reply a senior gives to a junior)
Bawo ni: How are you?
Mo Dara: I am ok
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