The silence was toxic
I made dinner.
Jollof rice and goat meat with a side of plantains. It was Akin’s favorite. His mom was staying for dinner.
He asked me to make dinner so everyone could talk. I was not down to do it, but I had nothing to lose. I had to make dinner in my house and for my man. I could care less if his mom was hungry. I pride myself in my great cooking, so it didn’t come as a chore.
His mom had to be on her best behavior and on his own terms. The table was set, food, plates and all.
He sat at the head of the table, I sat beside him to his right, and she sat beside him to the left.
The silence was toxic.
No one said anything. Was this how the “talk” would go?
The cutlery and the plates did the talking. Scraping sounds and chewing sounds.
How long would I put up with this?
I decided to break the silence.
“I hope you are enjoying your meal,” I said and looked at his mom.
She eyed me.
“ It’s okay” she replied nonchalantly, and put a forkful of rice into her mouth.
Okay, that didn’t go well. Or maybe it was best not to talk while eating. Meal time was a great way to catch up on the day and have peaceful talk.
With all the toxic silence at the table, I hoped and prayed my food would digest.
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His mom left an hour before bedtime. I was in the bathroom washing my face. He walked in and stood by the door, watching me through the mirror.
“ What’s up?’ I…
