“That’s not true,” I mumbled.
“It is.” Aunt Cleo affirmed. “What makes you bring him here to meet us, are you pregnant, should we start asking for land from him?”
“Oh my gosh, no I’m not!” I defended raising my hands in surrender, “We just….didn’t want to be without each other.”
“Is he also an artist? Tell me more about him.” My bibi asked as I helped her sit down on a nearby chair.
“Yes he is, he’s one of the best artists at the academy. A lot of other students look up to him, he’s Spanish, French and even a little English I believe. He likes puzzles and plain black coffee, he listens to me talk—”
“That ability alone should be considered a superpower, you talk at a thousand miles per hour.” Bibi laughed and I smiled.
“Yes, well, he’s very good at it. He’s also very patient and he keeps me on my feet, he’s very reliable and he has a kind heart. He even bought a gift for Jaadi before he ever even met him, which was…amazing.” I explained to everyone.
“I’m going to cry, stop it!” My cousin Jemimah teared up, “And it has nothing to do with the onions I’m cutting.”
“You deserve nothing less than all that you have, I hope you know that. Men like him are hard to come by.” My bibi mused.
“Sometimes I feel unworthy of all I have like I’m an imposter in my own skin. Not in terms of my relationship but my place at St Katherine's, sometimes I feel like everyone else is far more talented and deserving than I am.” I explained airing my grievances,
“Armani, look at me eh?” My bibi insisted, placing her hand over mine and I did just that. “Take up space.”
“What?” I wondered,
“Take up space, you heard me. Do not be afraid, you have worked incredibly hard to be where you are right now. African women deserve to take up as much space as they desire in this world, we have been denied far too much for too long.” She narrated and I nodded silently feeling a lump begin to grow in my throat. “Unanielewa?”
Do you understand me?
“I— I do.” I insisted. “I will take up space.”
About an hour later River wandered into the kitchen knocking at the door, I gestured for him to come in and smiled warmly at him grabbing ahold of his hand. “Hi.” I greeted him, “What brings you here?”
“They started talking about sports.” He told me.
“Oh? How dreadful!” I responded sarcastically.
“I know nothing about sports.” He responded, “The horror indeed.”
“I’m sorry, it’ll be over soon I promise.” I teased.
“I miss you.” He said and my eyes widened in surprise.
“You mean it?” I wondered, squeezing his hand.
“I don’t say words I don’t mean.” He whispered, “I miss you.”
“I’ve missed you too,” I assured him.
“Can I stay here with you?” He asked, his eyes hopeful.
“You want to cook?” I challenged folding my arms.
“I love cooking. I don’t know why you didn’t let me help sooner.” He insisted and then it dawned on me.
“You were bonding with my father!” I giggled.
“Your father is a very nice man, but now I want to be here with his daughter.” He proclaimed.
“Let the man cook!” My bibi declared from her place by the pantry on the wooden chair. “A warm welcome to the young man who has my granddaughter’s heart.”
