Modou was in the kitchen listening to his favorite Jaliba song, ntol la kano teh janjang nola. Airpods fixed in his ears,he was deeply moved by the song, vibing to it and absorbing every line of the lyrics with sheer amusement. The song touched a nerve with him, reminding him of Aminata. His music was suddenly interrupted by a WhatsApp call, and It was her..
"Hello, Aminata!"
"Hello, Modou, how are you? Are you at home?"
"I'm good. Yes, I’m in the kitchen. I’m coming to prepare an omelette."
"That’s great. My timing is always good. I'm right at your apartment gate. I've pressed the bell button but it seems not working."
Modou laughed half way and said “The hyena’s luck you have is astonishing.’’ He continued, "the bell has a problem. Go to the side of my window so that I can pass you the key,” he said and hung up the call. He quickly entered his house, opened the window and his eyes met with Aminata's.She wore a white T-shirt and a blue jean and black slippers.
"You are looking somewhat tired. See how your face has changed! Oh,how can I forget! It's only hunger that can do this to you," he said jokingly.
She made a sizable laugh and said, " pass me the keys and stop disturbing me. We all know who hunger disturbs more."
Modou laughed and passed the keys to her. She picked them from the hard concrete ground and moved towards the gate. Modou returned to the kitchen.
He had already broken three eggs, sliced some onions and luncheon meat, and was almost all set to fry. But since Aminata was around, he had to increase the quantity. He returned to his house and collected two more eggs.
Aminata had already opened the main gate. She ascended the creaking staircase and her steps echoed through the house, the soft patter of her feet growing louder. Upon reaching the top, the first floor, she gently opened the door and entered the kitchen. Inside, she found Modou meticulously slicing extra onions and luncheon meat.
"If omelette was a seed it would have grown in the stomachs of the boys here in Morocco," she said teasingly, standing beside him. He was about to put the first batch of his raw egg mixture in the sizzling frying pan.
"You are saying it as if the girls don't prepare it all ."
"We do but not like you. You guys abuse it because you feel too lazy to cook."
‘’But you know…’’He didn’t complete what he wanted to say because the gas was on high fire. He quickly reduced it to medium and turned the other side of the omelette.
"You don't cook more often than us. This is breakfast and many students in Morocco eat eggs. if it's not fried, it's boiled.You know that very well." He completed his unfinished sentence.
" For us, we normally prepare other recipes like steamed fish, fried fish, etc for breakfast." She added, " we sometimes buy Milwi.’’
"What do you call that, laziness from your side, too?" Modou asked rhetorically.
"It's not laziness and if that's the case, then you people are extra lazy. For us, we occasionally buy it, normally when we miss it."
"Not in Amie's case. For her, she abuses it."
They all bursted into laughter. At this point, Modou was done frying and they went to his house. It was time to chop. They left the atmosphere of the kitchen filled with the aroma of fried omelette, which spreaded to the living room.
"If there's one thing that you're good at, it's preparing an omelette. I think Morocco boys develop a mastery of that," she said teasingly after swallowing her first morsel of khubz and omelette.
"If there's one thing you are good at, it's boiling eggs. The way you understand the duration it takes to have eggs boiled is mind-blowing. Modou also teased her.
They discussed and laughed and argued over who was the glutton. After a couple of minutes,they finished eating but kept chatting, leaving the plate virtually washed. Small escaped particles of khubz slept on the carpet, waiting for the bye-bye.
“You have eaten until you find it difficult to get up,” said Aminata.
“You’ve not got up either,’’ he replied.
“But we know who has eaten the chunk of the food.”
“All I know is that it’s not me.”
“If it's not you, who then?” She continued, “you finished my remnant bread. Didn’t you?”
“I didn’t,” he smiled and stood up, picked the plate and headed to the kitchen.
Aminata bursted into laughter, her eyes sparkling with amusement, she bent and cleared the food particles on the carpet. She met him in the kitchen. They washed their hands and returned to the house.
Modou sat on one edge of the bed. Aminata sat beside him, very close to him. Silence reigned for some minutes. Each of them was busy with their phones. Modou placed his right hand on her left shoulder and they looked at each other. They both smiled. She threw her eyes on her laps, unknowingly scratching her phone's cover with her long fingernails. He quickly read her facial expression. It didn’t show any sign of disapproval. But he understood that she was shy. Modou too was somewhat shy but he camouflaged it. He had to show some manliness. He removed his hand and placed it around her neck. Aminata was motionless just like she was speechless. She tried to unintentionally resist by moving slightly away from him. His hand was still around her neck. He closed the little gap. He now raised a topic just to kill the silence.
"You better speak up."
"What will I say?" She asked.
" You don't have anything to talk about?" He also asked.
"Unless you say something since you are talkative," she managed to say, trying so hard not to be shy or show any attitude of disapproval. Her eyes were now fixed on the chair in front of her.
" You're the only one who talks about my talkativeness, so I won't mind you,he said"
"But you know you are talkative."
"I'm not."
"You're."
"I'm not"
"You're."
He smiled and kept quiet. That wasn't very important. He had a more important topic: to express his feelings to her. He'd thought about it for some seconds, but he didn't know where to start. He wanted to go straight to point but gave it a second thought. He quickly made up his mind. He cleared his throat and started speaking again.
" Aminata, I've always wanted to tell you this but don't know how to do it." He paused and she cut in.
"What is that?"
He started stammering "I ... I ... I don't really know how to tell you to be honest.”
"Just tell me, she said, showing sheer interest."
"Okay fine. If I were to tell you that I’m interested in a relationship with you, what would be your answer?”
“What kind of relationship?” She understood what he meant, but she deliberately asked.
At this point, exactly at 6am, Modou’s alarm started ringing. He jolted awake and tapped the snooze button of his annoying phone, an enemy of progress. If it didn’t ring, he would have continued his sweet dream. He would have had an insight about his relationship with his best friend. Because most of his dreams turn out exactly how he dreamt them.
That was the beginning of a bad day for him. He stretched himself several times on his bed. He analyzed every aspect of his dream, from facial expressions to body languages and spoken words. It was not easy to make any conclusion but he believed that there was light at the end of the tunnel.
His phone started ringing again at 6 05am. He annoyingly tapped the snooze button. That wasn't enough, he switched off all his alarms. He had a glance of his notifications. There were many messages in his Whatsapp, Aminata’s message was one of them. He opened it and it read “Hey Mo, how are you? I've checked your timetable. I've learnt that you will be having an 8 o'clock class, Bonne rentrée scolaire a nous tous. For me, my classes will start at 10am. Perhaps we will meet in school.” He smiled. Aminata’s message brought him some relief. It gave him the willingness to get up from bed and go to school. “Hi Aminata, I’m cool and you? Merci beaucoup. May God facilitate everything for us. I will call you during breaktime,” he replied. He undressed, took his towel and headed to the bathroom. He took a quick bath, dressed up, and prayed. Aminata replied. Her message read “Ameen and thanks. Ok, till break time.” He reacted to the message with the love sticker and headed to school.
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