After Grad - Introduction

 

JANUARY SECOND CREPT into Aramide’s room with its early morning haze. The Harmattan had smothered the whole of Lagos as at mid-December, even crossing the boarder of a brand New Year. Aramide was packing up, but it had nothing to do with the coldness of the atmosphere she tried to warm up beneath her old, fluffy sweater. Neither did it have anything to do with the inescapable dust across her mini-flat . Although, she secretly wished she had the superpower to twist the mechanism of the annoyingly dry weather.

     Her ebony skin was moist with cheap Vaseline. Her slightly plump lips sparkled, thanks to her ex flatmates tasty lip gloss. Almost three months past, and the twenty-three year old still hadnt gotten used to mornings without Nifemi. It followed a particular routine, well rehearsed through their four years at the Uni. Back then, she was sure to wake up to the sight of her flatmate tucked beneath her favorite velvet sheet. Nifemi never woke up, at least, not until Aramide wiggled her slender, model figure. Only then would she open those beautiful beady orbs that made the guys at school drool senselessly over her, yawning lazily, whilst asking that one question. 

     “Is it morning already?”

     She asked every single time. Yet, Aramide never got tired of replying her best friend with a small grin

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. “Yes, it is.” Like the answer wasn’t unsubtle in the rare streak of light that flooded their congested room. 

     Aramide thought her flatmate’s beauty was impeccable. You see, Nifemi was the only girl she knew, who would wake up in the morning looking like a river goddess. Her weave on would be put in place under any color of hair net she chose to wear the night before, her eyes would bulge out tiredly, but in an inexplicably cute way, whilst her buttery complexion would shine rhythmically with the sunrise overhead. Aramide didn’t have such rare gift; She knew she didn’t. When she woke up in the morning, the bad odour in her mouth was what she perceived first, the drool smeared across her pillow also failed to go unnoticed, and how wouldnt she be wary of the fact that her stubborn mane were defying the laws of gravity.

     “Ara, I love your hair,” Nifemi says all the time. 

    “Seriously,” she would add, as if trying to prove her integrity. 

     Aramide’s disagreement never faltered. Her thick, dark strands guarded their virginity; a decision shed made several years ago, after the tragic death of Maami and Baami. Maami’s hair was the thickest Ara has ever seen. A very thick forest, Baami would often tease his wife, fiddling with a silky branch of the innumerable trees. 

     No one could pull off the afro hair with such sheen elegance as her mother’s. Olodumare blessed her with such beautiful hair; the kind that blended naturally with her dark skin, and whilst many would branch out an umbrella against the harsh rays of the sun, Maami would look oddly comfortable. Her skin would absorb every streak of ray the sunlight fired at her, and instead of being covered in perspiration, Maamis dark skin would only glow. 

     Aramide didn’t think she’d inherited such beauty from her mother. However, months after the fatal car accident, at the time when it became clear that she was never going to see Maami and Baami ever again, she begged Auntie Shade to accompany her to the nearest Barbershop. Apparently, being on low cut was far less flattering on her, but that wasnt the point. The point was to grow a natural hair, free from any kind of creamy relaxer; a virgin hair like her late mothers. And so, it didn’t matter how stubborn her roots were, she would just ignore them and comb the tip, problem solved. 

     Yet, that was only the least of Aramide’s problems. 

     Corner to corner, her worried gaze scanned the mini-flat. After five years, and several months of inhabiting its cozy space, it evidently held more memories than she could thoroughly dissect. The walls were the same blee of baby blue paint Nifemi had tirelessly searched for at the Oshodi market. The off-white two-seater couch was the one Taju, the carpenter had taken two weeks to finish up, and that was three days after Nifemi’s furious outburst. The black and white rubber tiles on the other hand, were lined so rhythmically, that it threatened to trigger a cross-eye if one stared for too long. A lot had happened on those tiles!

       It was on those tiles that she once slipped whilst in a hurried pace to usher Nifemi in one sunny Wednesday. It was on those glossy tiles that she and Nifemi picnic-ed on during either of their birthdays for five years. Still on those tiles, shed seen Nifemi smooch Jay Jay, whom she claimed to be just a friend.

     Aramide couldn’t have imagined that she’d be so disturbed by the silence that smothered the flat. She missed the pitch of Nifemi’s somewhat masculine tone. She missed how loudly her flatmate would tune the volume of the TV, just to anger their annoying neighbors. Nifemi always knew the right buttons to press. And it’d always been she and Nifemi, a perfect duo. Well, until three months ago, when her flatmate broke the news of an awesome new job. 

     ”Ara, I got the job!” she squeaked. Even a blind man could perceive the excitement that leaked through each word. 

     “Wow, I’m happy for you,” Aramide’s response didn’t share the same enthusiasm. 

     “The boss man is taking me along to their branch at Abuja as his PA. I know it sounds challenging, because I don’t even know how to keep up with my own schedules, but in any case, I’m seriously not going to let this opportunity slip. You and I both know that the labour market is pretty intense.”

     “Yeah.. sure, sure,” Aramide’s voice was flat, and Nifemi noticed this too. 

     Looking back at it now, she wished she’d been happier about her best friend’s success. She wished she’d hugged that slender figure of hers, all whilst shrieking the loudest congratulations. Nifemi deserved that and so much more, however, it was too late to correct any of that. Her pessimism had robbed Nifemi of her pure bliss in the moment. Aramide watched the gleam in her beautiful eyes slowly fade away, too struck by jealousy to offer a mere embrace.

Read " Instinct: The Sequel " by the same author ( Ishola Ubaydah )

. Her flatmate moved out two days after, as what used to be a sisterhood ended on a very sour note. 

     Now, three months later, and Aramide was moving out too. Not just out of the flat, but out of the overpopulated city of Lagos. Auntie Shade would be happy to have her back at Ibadan as a graduate. An unemployed graduate, the disappointment clouded her facial features. Her head swelled to the point where her sad eyes watered. Never had she felt the need to cry so much. 

     “My dear, I can’t wait to have you back here with me,” Auntie Shade’s warm voice had penetrated her phone the previous night. “In fact, I went over to the market to buy those soft meat you like so much, and Titus too. Your room is also intact, the house can’t wait to accommodate you!”

     “Anty mi, I can’t wait either,” Aramide mumbled. 

     Undoubtedly, the prospect of going back to Ibadan was not as refreshing as it used to be. It had been for the past five years, and that was because her stay was sure to span for a few weeks, after which she’d pack up her belongings for a trip back to Lagos. But whilst the future of her employment was seemingly blurred, she was bound to live under the middle-aged woman’s roof for only God knows when.

     And it wasn’t until she wheeled her luggage down to the rowdy bus stop, that the harsh reality dawned upon her. She was leaving. She was really leaving..