Kanyin
Left on delivered for the third time this morning.
No one is allowed to leave me on delivered, not even Terna, who looks like God spent extra time crafting his face just for me. We've been texting longstop since we started dating two days ago. It's Friday, and I haven't heard from him all morning. Especially when I've been hoping to talk to him and meet up as much as I can before I leave Lẹ́kò—or might leave.
My gaze is glued to my phone when Dad walks into the kitchen.
"Did the Met Gala happen last night? The last time you were this engrossed in your phone was during last year's Met Gala," he points out, perching on a counter stool next to me.
Deb is frying some plantains for breakfast, and according to her, she has to get the perfect range, soft and not hard, so she can't be distracted. This means I can't rant to her about Terna's AWOL, and Kola doesn't give a shit about my love life.
I face Dad. "Daddy, why would someone that has clearly shown an interest in texting you every second suddenly stop responding and doesn't bother to read any further messages?" I ask, placing my phone down for the first time today.
"I don't know, maybe they could be busy. When I'm busy, I don't bother to check my phone," he states.
Of course you don't, I think to myself. He should be happy I forgave him after the no phone stunt he pulled this week. He's kind of the only person I can't ever stay mad at. He would never do anything to hurt us on purpose and everything he does has always been for a good reason.
I move my braids to the side to better view his face. "I know people are busy, Dad, but he has never been too busy for me," I tell him.
His eyes soften. "And who is this he?" he asks. "Kanyin is he someone in your class or someone who might be facing prison?" he asks again, tone protective.
I play with a strand of my braids, wondering if I'm ready to tell him about Terna. Dad has always been my favorite guy. He has spoiled and taken care of me at every chance he got. I don't think any boy can ever live up to him.
"He's a boy from school," I say softly.
His brows shoot up. "A boy? I thought you hated boys," he teases.
I smack my lips. "I did, but he managed to meet some of my standards, so he'll do...for now," I state as Deb places plates of plantains and egg frittatas in front of Dad and I.
"Oh Deb, you're only taking care of the kids, not me too," Dad says, waving his hands awkwardly in embarrassment as he scoots the plate of food away from him
Deb chuckles. "Mr. Damini, my father always taught me to never cook in front of people and not give them any. As long as you are here, you deserve a plate," she tells Dad, cleaning her hands on a napkin before taking off her apron.
I take a bite of my eggs. "Where are you going again today? " I ask Deb. "You got home late last night as well," I point out as she hangs her apron on the wall.
Deb smirks. "Don't worry, your pretty little head. I'll be home before you're back from school," she promises.
My phone suddenly dings, and I grab it ready to see an apology from Terna, but it's Kola. Why does he keep texting when we're in the same house?
Kola: You need to watch the heel today. I have Macbeth rehearsals.
Kanyin: Did you hit your head or something? Why are you still attending rehearsals when Deb's father's shoes made you do it?
YOU ARE READING
The Soles Of Damini Manor
FantasyFifteen-year-old Kola Damini thought his greatest worries were surviving crowded spaces and bickering with his diva of an older sister Kanyin-until his Mom mysteriously vanished without a trace. Like every other strange family, his workaholic Dad wh...
