The next morning, Andrew shuffled into the kitchen, the fatigue from yesterday's birthday celebration still evident in his drooping shoulders. 'Michael isn't pleased that I didn't invite him for my birthday,' he said, his voice muffled by a yawn. He splashed water on his face at the kitchen sink. 'But I told him it was because of his busy schedule.'
Andrew chose not to invite Michael to avoid media attention. Michael's popularity was such that even a simple cough of his would make headlines. Andrew simply wanted a low-key birthday celebration, not an extravagant one. If he had wanted his birthday to be the talk of the town, he would have invited Michael, who would have undoubtedly turned it into a luxurious affair.
The aroma of frying plantains wafted through the air as Chioma bustled around the kitchen. Several luscious slices of ripe plantain sizzled in a pan, their edges crisping to a delicious golden brown. Beside them, a plate held golden fried yams, their skins blistered and fragrant, sending waves of savoury aroma into the room. A kettle whistled on the stove, and the rich, earthy scent of ukwa permeated the kitchen, emanating from a pot simmering gently on the smaller stove. Amidst this symphony of scents and sounds, Chioma bustled around the kitchen with purpose. She moved with practiced efficiency, cracking eggs into a bowl with precise movements and expertly flipping the plantains and yams with a spatula. Her actions were a graceful choreography, each movement contributing to the harmonious bustle of the kitchen. It was almost seven-thirty, and Chioma, already up for an hour, had whipped up a feast.
Outside, through the open window, Andrew caught sight of a rooster. It crowed and joined two hens that were heading towards a nearby food stall. Andrew was still in his khaki shorts and grey shirt that he had worn after his birthday celebration yesterday. He had been too exhausted to change into his pyjamas last night and had even forgotten to take a bath.
Chioma glanced at him, a playful glint in her eye. 'Maybe you could bring him some sandwiches and zobo,' Chioma suggested, pouting. 'I was only joking.' She chuckled as she carried the plates of fried plantains and yams and placed them on the dining table. Louisa entered the kitchen, munching on an apple.
Andrew chuckled. 'Perhaps a delivery of akpu and ofe ede would be more appropriate.' He grabbed a plate, piling it high with fried plantains and yams.
Chioma laughed. 'I'd be happy to help you fling it at him.'
Andrew grinned. 'And I'd rub it all over him. He wouldn't forget the unique scent of akpu for the rest of his life,' Andrew laughed along.
'Do you want me to prepare akamu as well?' Chioma asked her mother. Louisa had put on a fresh set of clothes after her bath, with her hair neatly combed. She was planning to go to the market after breakfast.
'No, maybe we'll have that for dinner,' Louisa replied, settling into a seat. 'I'm glad that for a couple of months now, we've had peace and quiet. I hope it stays that way.'
'That's why I pray Jessica doesn't return from Paris. She's trouble,' Chioma remarked.
'Witches don't give up easily. I'm afraid she'll come back to cause even more trouble than before,' Andrew said between bites, a hint of amusement in his voice.
'Well, in that case,' Chioma joked, 'I'll just have to disappear in a puff of smoke!' They all laughed.
With a final bite of his breakfast, Andrew reached for his mug and took a swig of his achara tea.
With the meal finished, Chioma cleared the dishes and quickly washed them. Louisa was ready to leave for the market with her fruit cart, and Andrew helped her push it outside.
Chioma rushed to her mother, handing her a fancy lunch box she had bought a few weeks ago. Inside, she had packed deliciously cooked ukwa. 'Don't forget to have your lunch,' she said, hugging Louisa.
Louisa pinched her on the nose and hugged her back. 'You're the best daughter in the world. Now, don't forget to come home on time. We'll be having akamu and beans for dinner.'
Chioma nodded with a smile. It was indeed a beautiful morning, with a gentle sunlight spreading its warmth. Chioma felt happy. With Jessica away in Paris for an extended period and nobody discussing her relationship with Michael lately, it felt like a holiday to her.
Chioma went back inside to get ready for work. She slipped into a light cotton dress and layered it with a plum-coloured cardigan. Tying a white silk scarf beneath her chin, she gathered her dark hair into a neat ponytail and added a touch of lip gloss. Satisfied with her appearance, she smiled at herself in the mirror before straightening her skirt, grabbing her bag, and leaving the room. As she walked past the kitchen, she waved goodbye to Andrew, who was busy heating a kettle full of water.
Andrew was now alone in the house. After taking his bath, he placed a towel on the dining table to iron the beige-coloured shirt he had chosen to wear for work. With a soft collar, the shirt still retained some heat from the iron, so he left it unbuttoned at the throat when he put it on. He then proceeded to his bedroom, where he stood in front of the mirror, experimenting with different hair partings while combing his hair. He planned to get a haircut over the weekend, as the influx of customers at the garage had prevented him from finding the time for a proper trim.