This is me- Part 1

"It's not what you think, it's different this time, I promise", Debbie said as she hung up.

Tania couldn't understand it. The last time something like this happened, Debbie had sworn to her best friend it would never repeat itself. Debbie was losing herself, and there was nothing she could do to help her, Tania sighed.

"How does this look? Hot or hottt?" Debbie asked Tania, whilst simultaneously checking herself out in the mirror. 

"Well, that's not good enough, I ne...oh my god, where is that black dress I got from Zara? Oh, thank goodness, there it is. Now this is definitely hottt?"

"Yes babes, it's hottt. Argh, I can't believe you're making me do this. I promised My mum I was off clubbing till exams are over" Tania said in the least enthusiastic voice.

"Please stop moaning already". Debbie finished off.

 *Instagram*

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*snap snap* #instahappy #bestfriends #hotties #clubbing #Fridayfun

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Miss_tique- OMG Debz, I'm stealing that dress. xx

iLoveMe- awww, see my babies. You both look hawt. Have fun!

DareyV- and this is one of the many reasons why I miss you :(

Pretty-me-Debz- awww, thanks everyone. Y'all are far too kind *muah*

"Damn it, 12 missed calls. There was a reason I didn't answer it the first 11 times. Arghh." 

"Debbie, my mum has called 12 times, who does that? Gosh, I don't know what to tell her." 

"Grow some balls Tania, she's a continent away. Tell her you were studying at mine and left you phone or just think of something babes" 

"Yea, whatever" Tania hung up.

"L-o-l, I'm only in Nigeria for 2 weeks, I'm sure you'll survive, sweets". Debbie told Frank as  they walked back home from the cinema hand-in-hand. 

"Yea, yea, I'm sure I will. Anyway, what time is your flight again? 8? Cool, I'll pick you up at 4 then. Take care of you babe" Frank finished off as he bade Debbie goodbye

Lagos had not changed one bit. The traffic was still as hectic, the potholes still adorned the roads, the bus conductors still screamed at top of their voices- "one more chance, one more chance, enter with your change o'.

How I love this city, Debbie thought to herself as she sat back in her chauffeur-driven car and tuck into her kindle as Sanusi, one of her drivers drove her home from the airport.

"Welcome aunty, how London? You remember me? Na Lizzy o. Wetin you bring come? The voices of the three maids echoed in her head as they spoke simultaneously, welcoming her back to her Ajah home. Her house hadn't changed much either. The lovely front garden was still well mowed, the massive 6 bedroom duplex still had the same colour theme- green and the house was impeccably tidy.

"Mum, Lagos hasn't changed a bit" 

"What did you expect?" her mum retorted as they hugged each other in a tight embrace.

"How is England, my darling? Still cold? Her mum asked.

"Same ol', same ol' . It actually snowed in Scotland a few days back, can you believe it and it's April already. Oh, why am I even telling you this, you've  refused to visit me for the past six months" Debbie said, sulking.

"Come on, don't be like that darling. I really wanted to, it's just because Sandra was finding it very difficult to settle into College, so I had to be in America, then there's this book I need to finish up, the publishers are literally on my neck and your Father was just as busy" her mum replied.

"Speaking of which mum, where's dad?" Debbie asked. Immediately, her mum's face dropped". Then quickly, as though she remembered something, she put on the smile again and said "he's in Paris on a business meeting, he'll  be back in a couple of days". Her mum had mastered this art of acting or pretence as Debbie called it. Debbie had seen it all through her childhood, through to her teenage years and right until she left for London to study. It wasn't new to her.

"Mum, is Dad at it again? Is it that secretary of his again? Or perhaps it's the the PA this time? But for how long will you put up with this? Debbie continued. "When will you face your fears and come out of this facade you call a marriage"? We're all grown now, we'll understand"

"You wouldn't understand, Deborah. Anyway, I have to get back to work now. You go take a shower and have something to eat. I've asked the chef to prepare your favourite" her mum smiled, as she put on her reading glasses and unlocked her desktop computer.

Debbie's face dropped and the tears flowed freely as she watched her mum continue with the book she was writing. Writing fictional stories was how her mum lived the life she wished for, the life her husband never gave her. It was her only escape from her real life. 

**

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