“Amina, I can only give you till the end of…” The landlord’s line went off mid sentence. I glanced at the allopurinol tablets in my folded palms. They were soft from my trepidation but my mum would still have to take them, there’d be no waste in this Tinubu's economy. When the landlord called for rent, my chest tightened and I wanted to cry. It felt like being singled out on the assembly ground for school fees. You kept your tears till you got home and released a storm to your parents. Now, I had no parents to run to.
I looked across the centre table towards my mum, lying on my couch as she watched the television. She must have heard the one-sided yapping from the landlord about the three months' due rent. She groaned in pain and I handed her the drugs.
My mum had been recommended for surgery to relieve her Arthritis, but I’ve never made enough from my photography studio to treat myself to a proper diet and talk less about raising funds for surgery. I probably should give up the studio and join Adeola on the Island. She makes more as a waitress in a month than I do in a year even with all the side freelance gigs I take on.
I paid attention to the television and the AIT hosts introduced a female music artist. I faintly recognised the artist but I knew the rose floral print on her purse like the back of my hands. I took that picture and printed it on merches. My phone buzzed on the table. It must be the landlord. I picked it up; it was Adeola.
“ Hel-”
“Babe, Check X. You’re blowing up!” She said with excitement bustling through every syllable of her words. I opened the app and saw five hundred notifications. I scanned the comments to see that Seyi, the artist from the interview, had tagged me after someone asked her where she got her purse from. I felt wetness on my cheeks and noticed I had been crying all along.