Last updated on October 17th, 2025 at 07:33 am
It’s a wonderful Thursday. Zabby’s loud music welcomes me as I step into the apartment. That’s her style whenever she’s in a great mood. I really lucked out in the cousin department, as an only child, Zabby’s been the sister I never had. We have our misunderstandings like every other sibling but we’re even closer than many siblings that I’ve seen.
“Zabby! What’s popping?” I ask as I enter the kitchen where she is, the aroma of jollof rice hitting my nose. I kiss her cheek and step back so as not to get tempted by the fried plantain. Zabby is a mean cook; any attempt to taste her food before she dishes it usually results in a smack. I know better than to try it.
“Feeling good, feeling blessed.”
“Hmm, you’re not recording this?”
“I want to enjoy this alone. I already recorded the ingredients and got some montages here and there of the stages.”
“Well done, girl.” She smiles and shrugs in response.
“I’ll soon be done, go and change from your work outfit so we can start the snacks.” She answers.
“Alright, it’s nothing serious though. I mean, it’s you. All we need to do is make doughnuts.” I reply on my way out of the kitchen, but not without catching her playful eye roll. I go into my room and change, then I decide to lie on the bed for a while. I grab my phone and begin scrolling, one page leads to another, and I end up on…Joe’s page. Shocking!
“Angie,” I hear Zabby calling me from the kitchen. A glance at the time reveals that I have already spent about twenty minutes on Joe’s Instagram page. Now, this is not ideal. There are no new pictures of him, but his page features highlights that include pictures of him and little glimpses into his personal life. Every time I’m on his page, I get lost in each highlight.
“Angela!” Zabby’s voice is closer now. I drop my phone on the bed as if I’ve been caught doing something wrong. She opens the door and looks at my face. “You look guilty.” I am guilty, though I don’t know what exactly I’m guilty of: stalking the poor boy’s page, making deductions about him from totally unrelated posts or getting the urge to open a catfish account and message him. I’m so professional at this already that I don’t even make the mistake of reacting to his posts.
“Guilty? Of what?” I ask, and I can hear the guilt in my voice.
“I don’t know,” Zabby folds her arms and leans on the door frame. “You tell me.”
“Please, let’s go. I was resting.” I try to brush past her, but she blocks the entrance.
“So, if I grab your phone, you won’t scream?” I look at my phone on the bed and see that Zabby has a good chance of getting it before I do. Rather than reply to her, I shrug, feigning indifference. She smiles.
“It will be too easy to go after the phone now. There’s something up and trust me, I’ll figure it out…very soon.” She turns and leaves me behind.
I huff and follow her, momentarily grateful that she didn’t go after my phone. She would have immediately seen Joe’s page. While Zabby doesn’t recognise Joe, she would be able to tell that I’m on their training coach’s page. That’s even worse. She knows that there’s a Joe that I potentially dated but I doubt she ever saw a picture of him; we were too busy with Tochi’s lukewarm attitude. If she had seen a picture of him then, there’s no way she would have forgotten already. Now it might be too easy for her to piece one or two things together.
—
“Zabby, why have we not tried this before now?” I ask my cousin as I hand her another doughnut. Last night, I ended up making some doughnuts, puff puff and spring rolls. We also hit the mall to get a few drinks for the road. As early as six am this morning, we had gotten ready, loaded the car and resumed our trip.
“Because,” she answers mid-munch “the roads are bad.” Of course, the roads are bad, but though we’ve only been on the road for two hours, we’ve covered more miles than if we’d taken public transport. For some reason, those buses are usually slow; it’s probably because they carry loads that are heavier than the passengers.
“Well, it’s true,” I answer Zabby. This is more fun, but we’re the ones doing the work, not to mention the cost of fuel and the possibility of our car developing a fault. I quickly rebuke the last thought. What a way to ruin a fun trip. I focus on the road instead and increase the volume of the music a bit.
“I’ve not forgotten that something is up with you o,” Zabby says after some minutes of silence. She’s paused eating and focused on driving. I’ve also reclined my chair, lost in thought.
“Elizabeth, can you let me be? Whatever you think you know is in your head.”
“Exactly, in my head. Please, after a while, help me get some clips of the journey.” I nod in response, though she cannot see me, relieved that she let the issue slide so easily.
