The Morning After

I slowly awaken, feeling a slight banging in my brain and queasiness in my stomach.

Yesterday night's events are doing great damage to me, making me feel so insecure.

My mom is still sleeping peacefully in bed, looking unaffected by it all.

I gently sit up in bed, resting my back against the wall since the bed has no headboard.

"Haah," I sigh, taking in sights of the room.

I still remember this room, this is the room my aunt stayed in, and there was always a TV on the wall, with a small glass shelf beneath it that had the GOTV decoder on it.

But now, the room bore no resemblance to its old self.

The blue painting on the wall is cracking and falling apart, and there are spider webs clouding the dusty white cieling.

It looks like no one has stayed in this room for years, or even bother thought of cleaning it, because the room looks neglected and unkempt.

It's funny how me and my cousins always snuck in years ago, to embrace the beauty the room once held - the blue lights, the beautiful large bed, the wall paintings and so many others.

But now, I feel a little disappointed at how untidy and empty the room now is. It doesn't look as beautiful as it had always been, instead it looks like a place for insects.

Oh my God, there's a spider climbing me!

"Ahh!"

I jump out of bed, dusting myself thoroughly.

I just hate spiders!.

I notice my mom turning to face the cieling, rubbing her eyes then sitting up.

"Why did you scream?" She asks, her voice husky from sleep.

"It's because of one stupid spider," I say, feeling disgusted as I'm just noticing how dusty the bed sheet is.

Well what would I have expected?, The room is not in a good condition, so why would the bed be?.

"This bed isn't clean at all."

"We'll change it today," she says, standing up from the bed and stepping onto the dusty red rug carpet.

I begin massaging my temples, watching her as she opens a wooden window that doesn't make me feel secure, it's right next to the bed, and all I see is a bushy environment.

It doesn't even have a burglar bar. Geez!

I huff, shaking my head.

"By the way, when are we going back home?"

She turns to me, glances at me, then bends to pick up her phone from the bed.

"On Friday" she finally responds, making me furrow my brows in disapproval.

"That's the day after tommorow, but why?"

"Because I say so," she walks towards me, then turns to the left to a wooden door, probably the one we came through.

"W-well don't you feel less safe after what happened yesterday night?"

She turns to face me, her facial expression neutral, "I do, that's why I want us to leave on Friday."

"But.."

"No buts Amanda," she turns back to the door, "you should get ready for the day. You've been in those clothes for too long."

I furrow my brows, climbing back onto the bed and crawling to pick my phone.

"Keep your words," I say, stepping down from the bed.

She doesn't respond, but simply pulls the door handle, and to my surprise, it didn't open. It looks like the door was jammed.

"How did it get jammed?" I ask.

She turns around to me, placing her hands on her waist and shaking her head.

"The door is really old, so.."

"Oh, so what are going to do now?" I ask.

"Call your grandma," she turns back around, and begins banging on the door.

"Gbam gbam gbam!"

"Mma!"

"Mma ooh!!"

"Mma!!" My mom calls.

"Gbam gbam gbam!"

"Faustina!"

Looking around the room, I notice another door, slanted across from this one.

"Gbam gbam gbam!"

I walk over to it, searching for a handle, and funny enough, this one doesn't even have a handle.

"Mma!"

This is the door we usually come through years ago, but it doesn't look like it's in good condition.

"Faustina oh!"

"Gbam gbam gbam!"

Termites have eaten into it, and it also looks jammed.

I return to where I was, my mom still banging on the door and calling out to Faustina and Grandma to come and open it.

"Mma ooh!"

"Mm..."

"Ogini?"

My heart leaps in joy as my grandma responds. Finally!

"Mma oh, biko mepere ayin uzo," (Mom, please open the door for us) my mom says.

"Uzo han were nsobu, chere," (this door is faulty, wait a minute) my grandma responds.

"Faustina!"

"Faustina!" She calls.

"Faustina ooh!!"

"Mma!" Faustina responds.

And soon, I hear her voice behind the door, communicating with my grandma.

"Aunty, na doya from ime," (Aunt, keep pulling the handle from inside) Faustina instructs.

The handle begins twisting, and my mom starts pulling it.

"Na do, na do," (keep pulling, keep pulling) my grandma says.

My mom keeps pulling the door handle, and I watch from behind with hopes of the door opening any moment now.

"Puuum!" A rush of smelly air bursts in.

Squinting my eyes to protect them from any flying bacteria, I notice how dark it is on the other side.

I can barely see my grandma, Faustina, or my mom, who just walked in and is now conversing with my grandma.

I can only see the darkness.

I hear their voices growing distant.

Are they leaving?.

I step into the dark room and switch on my phone's flashlight, the beam illuminating the room I'm in.

And woah!, This place is a complete mess.

I notice a glimmer of light coming from my left and realize there's a curtain here, which gives me a clue about this place.

I approach the curtain and pull it open, revealing the bright hallway.

Switching off my phone's flashlight, I step out of the room, and turn to face the brown curtain, a smile spreading across my face.

That room belongs to a relative of mine, a very fat man, whether it's my uncle or my grandma's uncle, I'm not sure. But I'm certain it's a family member.

I begin making my way through the hallway, the smell of smoke growing stronger, assaulting my senses and intensifying my headache.

It sounds like my heart is pounding in my head, causing a sharp pain.

As I step out of the hallway, I feel a tug on my wrist.

It's Faustina, and she's sitting in a chair beside me, wearing a sweet morning smile.

I return her smile, then cover my nose with my hand to shield myself from the smoke. But her smile suddenly fades, and she stands up, releasing my wrist.

"Is the smoke too much for you?" she asks, looking slightly concerned.

"Uhm, kinda," I reply, my voice muffled.

"You should go wait in the entrance hall," she suggests.

I nod, squinting my eyes as I scan the backyard.

Smoke is rising from beneath the shade, likely from cooking, but I can't see clearly.

I notice my grandma is absent, and my mom is making a phone call in the bushes.

I flinch as Faustina taps my shoulder.

"What are you looking at?" she asks, her nose slightly red from the smoke.

"Isn't the smoke affecting you?" I ask her in response.

"Not really, as it used to," she replies.

"So, you usually got affected by it severely?" I ask, and she nods.

I release my mouth, my eyes still squinted.

"I'll be at the entrance hall then."

"Okay," she responds, flashing her sparkly white teeth in a smile.

Although she's still putting on yesterday's clothes, her smile radiates freshness, as if she has already brushed her teeth.

I return a simple smile and turn back into the hallway, walking slowly and relaxing my squinted eyes.

As I step out of the hallway, memories of last night come flooding back, and I stop in my tracks.

What if we had d....?

I shake my head, trying to ward off any negative thoughts.

I begin making my way to a seat straight ahead, but the sound of children's laughter catches my attention.

I grasp the metal bars and gaze outside at the group of teenagers I saw yesterday.

They're sweeping their compound and engaged in a lively discussion, their laughter filling the air.

My eyes inadvertently land on one of them, a boy who catches my attention with his striking yellow skin tone.

He's leaning against a large tree, his hands behind his back, observing the others with a relaxed demeanor.

I didn't notice him yesterday, but now he's hard to miss.

He's wearing a black short that falls just below his knees and a black shirt that reveals his left collar bone, given how he's standing.

While I can't see his face clearly, his skin tone makes him stand out.

My hands slide slowly from the bar, and I settle into a chair right in front of the burglary gate.

I don't want to come across as a creep spying on them.

I turn on my phone and start browsing YouTube for movies or music videos, Nigerian or not.

"After School" catches my attention on my screen.

It looks like a high school drama, I wonder if it's interesting.

I click on the video, waiting for the ad to clear.

Suddenly, I hear someone call my name, "Amanda!" a voice sounding like that of my mom's.

I pause the video and stand up, watching as she steps out of the hallway.

"Aren't you going to take your bath?" she asks, taking a seat nearby.

"I'll do it some other time," I reply, still holding my phone.

"Stand up and go take your bath," she says, her tone slightly upset.

"But..." I start to protest.

"You should also keep your phone, we haven't had electricity so far."

"True, but it's still early, though," I respond.

"Doesn't matter, go now," she says, her attention focused on her phone.

"But you haven't taken yours either," I point out, frowning.

"I will, once you've taken yours first," she replies, not even looking up.

I stomp my feet in frustration as I walk past her into the hallway.

"Do I really have to take a bath? Can't I just choose to be smelly for a day?" I mutter under my breath, only to freeze in embarrassment as I step out of the hallway and see Faustina standing beside me, a smile on her face.

Did she hear me?

She bursts into laughter, and I can't help but join in, my brow still furrowed.

"You don't mind being smelly for a day?" she asks, still chuckling.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere, am I?" I reply.

Faustina's smile suddenly fades, replaced by a look of regret.

"You better listen to your mom," she says, her gaze drifting into the hallway.

"Uhm...are you okay?" I ask.

"Hmm," she nods, forcing a smile back onto her lips before turning away and walking towards the shade.

The area looks less smoky now, and I see a burnt kettle sitting on a semi circle muddy wall, with firewood placed in it.

Why did she look like that? Did I say something offensive?

"Haah," I sigh.

Oh!, yeah, I forgot to take out my toiletries.

I head back into the hallway and turn right into the living room.

The familiar crayfish smell greets me.

My bag is still on the couch where I left it.

I pull out all my clothes and books, but my money is deep inside, and I don't bother to retrieve it.

I haven't even spent any of it yet.

I set my phone down on the scattered clothes and gather my essentials: toothbrush, toothpaste, body soap, sponge, and towel, which I hang over my shoulder.

With everything ready, I leave the living room and head back into the hallway.

As I exit the hallway, I see Faustina still under the shade, sitting on a small stool and fanning the firewood with the kettle still above it.

I drop my towel on the chair beside me, along with my box of sponge and soap.

Then, I head to the kitchen, passing by Faustina to grab a plastic cup from the shelf.

Once I find one, I exit the kitchen and approach the metal tank with a rotten skin, where water is stored.

I turn on the iron faucet at the front of the tank and fill the cup with water.

Next, I head back to the chair with my towel on it and place the cup of water on a clear spot.

Finally, I begin applying toothpaste to my toothbrush.

I pick up my cup of water and set my toothpaste down, then head to the bush to brush my teeth, just like I used to do with my cousins years ago.

I begin brushing, my eyes fixed on the sandy ground littered with weeds and leaves.

Everything is just different.

After spitting out the foam and rinsing my mouth with water, I head back to the chair to return my toothbrush back in its case and then put the cup back in the kitchen.

Next, I walk over to the ledge of the building, where a green plastic bucket awaits me.

I plan to use it to fetch water, and I'm sure I'll find a cup in the bathroom.

I pick up the bucket and head to the tank, turning on the faucet and waiting for it to fill up.

With my hands on my waist, I gaze at Faustina, who's still fanning the firewood and humming a tune.

Suddenly, I feel something pouring onto my leg, the water has filled up!

I pick up the bucket, but the iron handle pierces my finger, causing pain.

I drop it immediately, examining my red fingers.

I can do this!

Taking a deep breath, I bend to pick up the water again.

Blood of Jesus Christ, what is this?