Chapter 3

Her mother banged her fists against the door for some time, till she was tired and let her be in peace.

Bukunmi sighed tiredly and went to her bed where she sat and muttered a prayer to God, a practice she was used to doing every morning.

When she was done, she grabbed her phone from the bedside table and unlocked it with her pattern.

"How the hell is my battery on 7%?" She thought aloud, before what had happened suddenly dawned on her.

She growled. "If I get a hold on that mischievous brother of mine, I'll beat him to a pulp," She said aloud.

Shifting to the next order of business, she opened her mailbox, hoping the recent publishing company she applied to already approved of her book.

"Be optimistic. You're an awesome writer, they definitely have no choice than to accept your work," She said to herself silently, trying to gain confidence.

Unhappiness sunk in as she saw, to her greatest disappointment that there was no mail from E&A's publishing company. She heaved a sigh and dropped the phone on the bed, looking miserable.

What had she done wrong? She had read, proofread, edited and corrected everywhere that needed correction, but all to no avail.

Two years ago, she had completed her Tertiary education at the University of Benin with a First Class degree in Creative Writing and had proceeded to serve her country, Nigeria, through the N.Y.S.C scheme, very eager to get an immediate writing contract with her excellent result and the various recommendations she had gotten from her lecturers.

Had she not been the best graduating student? Had her books not been reviewed positively by foreign authors? Had her short stories not been featured in the school's magazine and beyond?

If there was anyone who was to make it in life with writing as a career, it was her. She deserved it because she was talented in that aspect. No! She couldn't be an entrepreneur, neither could she manage accounts nor excel in law and medicine; the only thing she could do was to write, because she felt happy doing it and she knew she did it perfectly well.

She was tired of facing rejections everywhere from different companies. Her mother made very little amount of money from the sale of provisions, and she felt very ashamed that she was still asking her mother for money to buy something as little as recharge card.

How about her brother? She had made him several promises when she was still in school that she'd get him enrolled in football classes, so he could become a professional footballer one day and also buy him a smart phone like the rest of his mates.

Asides that, she had also promised to buy a wheelchair for her grandmother, Alhaja Pelumi, to aid her movement around the house.

Then, for her mother, she had sworn to buy her cars, wrappers and build a house for her next to that of her Uncle, Gbenga, who had told her it was a waste of time training a female child in school.

Of course, she couldn't fulfill any of her numerous promises; not even those she made to herself. She couldn't afford to make a good hairstyle or buy new clothes. She had wanted to buy a car before she turned 24. Well, she had turned twenty-four the previous month, and she didn't even have nice shoes to walk around the streets of Lagos.

Tears that she had been fighting for so long came rolling down her eyes as she wondered if anything was wrong with her. Was she wrong after all? Was writing a waste of time like everyone thought?

The only person that had ever believed in her writing dream was her father, and he died eleven years ago. She was so sure that he'd have stopped believing in her as well if he were still alive.

She clasped her hands together, silently assuring herself that everything would be fine someday even though her mind strongly doubted the positivity of that thought.

Her phone suddenly began to ring, and she immediately wiped her tears then answered the call on seeing that it was her best friend, Nneoma, who was calling her.

"Hey, girlie. What's up?" Nneoma said from the other end.

"Nothing much," She said in a coarse voice.

"Umm... Why does your voice sound that way?" Nneoma asked, puzzled.

Bukunmi cleared her throat. "It's...umm... It's nothing. I'm fine," She said.

"Stop lying, bitch. We've been friends for how long now? Twenty good years... That's two freaking decades, and you think you can lie to me? I don't think so, mama, maybe in your next life," She said.

Bukunmi rolled her eyes. That was the problem of making people know you a whole lot.

"So, what's the issue? Your book got rejected again?” She asked from the other end.

Bukunmi sighed. "Yeah. I read that when E&A don't give you a reply after a month of submitting your book to them, it means your work's been rejected," She said.

Nneoma gave a light chuckle. "And so? Why are you so upset about it? This is the seventeenth..."

"Eighteenth," Bukunmi corrected.

"... Eighteenth rejection you've gotten. It doesn't mean you're a bad writer or something. I've read your books and you know I could be blunt and stuff but babes, your book is literally the best thing I've ever read...and baby girl, anyone who rejects such a great piece of work like that is h**h on something; w**d maybe..."

Bukunmi chuckled softly. "Okay, that's okay."

"No, it's not okay. I'm serious, babes. How in the world could someone reject any book written by you? Don't they see you're a born writer? Are they blind or do they have difficulty discerning between good and bad books?" Nneoma raged on.

"They obviously don't have good taste," Bukunmi added.

"Exactly, babes. Now, you see what I'm talking about. Tell you what? I need you to come to the club this night. We're gonna drink away all our sorrows, you hear me? We're gonna drown our sorrows in the consolation of alcohol," She said.

"No, no, I can't do such. I've not had alcohol since graduation and I don't intend on doing so now," She said, turning down the offer.

"You're crazy. I'm coming to get you by 9, all right?"

"Nope. Nothing's all right. I'm not a club person and I won't go to the club, okay?"

"That's none of my business. When last did you go out or meet a guy? Umm... I can't even seem to remember and I have a good memory. You need to have fun, baby girl and I'mma teach you how to just for tonight," She said.

"No, please. Don't force me into doing anything," Bukunmi pleaded.

"Come on. Don't you get bored sitting at home all day?" She asked.

"I do... but I don't even have anything to wear," She said.

"Put on that body-con dress I got for you during your birthday last month," She said.

"That's way too short and seductive," Bukunmi said, amazed at the fact that Nneoma could actually be suggesting such to her, knowing fully well the kind of person she was.

"It's a club, no one has a problem with that," Nneoma countered.

"I'm not going anywhere and that's it!" Bukunmi said, with a finalizing note.

"You're going. My house won't be opened to you until tomorrow morning," Her mum chipped in.

Bukunmi jolted as she looked to her left and saw her mum standing outside by her window.

"Mami, for how long have you been there? And why are you even there?" She requested.

"Since you threw me out of your room in my own house," Her mum said.

"You mean my father's house, don't you?"

"Your late father was my husband. Go out there and get your own husband so you can stay there comfortably and at any time without anyone chasing you out. You're going out this night as punishment for pushing me out of your room, and that's it!" Her mother said firmly.

"But Mami..."

"Even your grandmother would be disappointed that you threw me out of your room. That's bad manners, Bukunmi, and I didn't raise you like that," She stated.

"Mami, this is unfair. You're the one who caused all these by frustrating me," She said.

"If you're not careful, I'd report your actions to your grandmother. It's either you go out this night with Nneoma or you stay at home and watch me report what you did, so that your grandmother can lash out at you. Do you want that?" Her mother thundered.

Bukunmi was silent as she placed her phone back on her ear. The call was still connected, meaning Nneoma had heard everything.

"I guess you're going then," Nneoma said from the other end.

"I obviously do not have a choice," Bukunmi said in a low tone.

"Yes!" Nneoma said excitedly.

"Whatever," Bukunmi said, rolling her eyes.

"I'll be there with a cab to get you by 9. In the meantime, I'm going to leave hate comments on all the socials of E&A's publishing company," She said.

"No, that's..." Bukunmi started, but the line went dead, indicating that Nneoma had hung up on her.

Knowing Nneoma fully well, she knew she was going to do as she had said, and won't pick up her calls even if she tried calling till she had succeeded in her plan.

Bukunmi sighed and laid on the bed, stretching out her arms and legs.

It was going to be an annoying night at the club, but she was going to just sit and sway in the background till morning came just to avoid her mother's wrath, or so she thought, not having an inkling that things were going to take an unusual turn and get pretty much interesting after that night.