The 'S' Hub

DAY 3 Edisemi Thompson My kitchen feels alien without Njideka. I take out the soup she made before we both went to her place from the fridge and nuke it. There’s semovita and poundo to go with it but simply because I don’t know how both are prepared I decide I’ll eat the soup like that, the way you’ll eat up a bowl of porridge beans. I tell myself that I never liked to swallow stuff with soup, but I smile at the recollection of the feel of rolling into little balls the last poundo Njideka had made. It felt immaculate as well sliding down my throat. My mom always said Okro soup made the swallow meal more of an enjoyment than work. She truly hated swallow meals. Njideka’s Okro soup was more than enjoyment, it felt like having uncountable rounds of sex with Butch in one night with the AC sweetly prickling the skin. Now, about sex, Captain is still in bed in my room. I’m going to tell him he snored like a Hippo last night, forcing me to spend the remaining part of t...

Juliana Nkemdiri The bath or the little after-bath confrontation had left me feeling better. My eyes still duplicated things, of course, but my legs could hold themselves well and obey the simple command of my will to move steadily. The puking sensation was completely gone but my head pounded moderately. Two tablets of Paracetamol are all it’ll take to make it quit the pounding, I told myself. I needed to get home, more out of disappointment than anger at the standoff with Edisemi. She made it easier by bringing the party to its inconclusive end, much to the dismay of the partiers who were heart-deep in the celebration. The absence of the celebrants meant nothing to them. The steady flow of booze, music and light comestibles were all that mattered, and if it meant to go on till the next day, the good Lord will always be their strength and will forever be praised for favours. Captain didn’t take it lightly. He tried to seek explanation from Butch, Edisemi, and even Njideka...

Edisemi Thompson I stand staring at Butch with astonishment, anger, and an entirely different kind of emotion I can’t fully explain. It’s like a cross between dismay and agony, an emotion that only fuels my anger. It hurts that while I was busy ignoring his calls and expecting him to be penitent, he had discarded me and was routing for his alternative. As I stand watching his smile spread wider, as if this moment of painful discovery and truth meant nothing, I begin to wonder how many alternatives he has. First, there was Julie, now it’s Njideka. In barely two days, I’ve discovered that the man I’m going to get married to has two sidechics. What should I expect tomorrow? I browse through my mind for any of my girlfriends who could be his next target or who already is a sidechic. With Njideka eliminated, there’s none other. This does nothing to relieve me. Julie was never my girlfriend, she’s always been Butch’s, and with the speed of these discoveries, I should expect to...