Once the sumptuous plate of Jollof  landed in David's hands, he felt the urge to run back home. A new wave of energy suddenly offloaded in his body. Still, he had to be careful with the ceramic plate, lest the content spilled to the ground.

The energetic mood, however, didn't erase the discomfort he felt. Deep, deep down, he hated that he came to his place. He was making a mockery of his mother. It was unheard of that a woman slapped her enemy one day, and the woman's son came approaching the same enemy for help the following day. It was uncouth for a son to go against his mother in such a way.

But he didn't come this far just to come this far. His sister was going to get fed. That was the desired end of striving this hard.

The neighbor was still standing at the doorstep, staring at David with a secret icy vigilance, ruminating within, questioning everything yet putting on a bright, outwardly smile in a mysterious generosity. Her body seemed unsure of itself. She didn't know how to act. Hence, there was something immodest about her modesty. It showed.

It was the same gait she had the previous day. There was something about her calmness that made you second-guess everything about her because she was already second-guessing herself. David didn't know what to take out of her mannerisms and why she always seemed like that.

Still, as David bowed slightly to say "thank you" for the umpteenth time, she told him to go carefully and feed his sister. She even sent her best wishes, hoping that his sister enjoys the meal. Those words made David rethink the woman's motive. At that moment, the woman doesn't seem sinister.

Nevertheless, he walked back home. On his way, the barber from the 1800s suspended his work to stare at David, the clipper buzzing against the half-shaved head of a customer. The barber asked David if a party was going on as he gazed at the covered ceramic plate on David's hands. David shook his head 'no' and kept on walking.

He wanted to ignore the Barber because the question was idiotic. He would have even ignored the barber if it weren't for the standards Nigerian parents loved to impose on their children. 'Greet and respect any person who is older than you' even when some of those older people weren't deserving of the pleasantries and the respect. People could be so stupid and insensitive. Of all things the barber could see, all he decided to focus on was the plate of food in his hands.

The barber didn't care if David was sweating profusely, or if his shirt looked dusty and rumpled, or why there were so many strands of hay and grass sticking out of his woolly hair. All he chose to care about was the jollof and had stupidly dared to ask if there was a party going on so he could walk in uninvited and eat like an elephant.

Foolish man. Little wonder why you barely have any customers.

Surprised at his excessive fury, David let the foolishness slide as he finally got to his house. He tried to hold the entire plate in one hand with a reasonable balance while he knocked at the door with the other hand. He hoped Sindara would be strong enough to walk up to the door and open it.

"Sindy..." he called out in the abbreviation of her name that only he could call her. "It's me, David. I brought jollof for you. Open the door, " He said aloud.

There was no response for some minutes. David placed the ceramic plate in both hands now, but the heaviness of the earthenware made his forearms ache slightly.

"Sindy? Are you in there? Are you very weak? Please try and open the—"

Then a bunch of keys started to jingle at the keyhole from the inside. David's chest fell in relief. He was scared that she'd probably fainted from starvation. He was glad she was able to hang in there. So as he waited for her to open the door, the jingling of the keys stopped. The door didn't open. David's heart rose at a fast rhythm again. Had she fainted now?

The fact that all it took for him to know how his sister was doing was just the opening of the door made his heart ache even more. The suspense was unnerving. What was going on? Why was it taking her so long to open the door?

He heard the jingling of the keys again. Then the keys stopped moving again. The movement continued for a longer time than it should, swinging David's heart movements like a pendulum. His arms started to ache unbearably from holding the plate for too long, the veins beneath nearly reaching their limit.

"Sindy? What's going on? Don't you know how to open the door? Or you don't know which key to use?"

"N-n-no. I know which k-key to use. The key j-just keeps f-falling from my hand, " Sindara's response came from behind the door very softly that he could almost feel her breath against his ear. Hot. Feverish.

Feverish.

Her hands must be shaking. She can barely hold a bunch of keys. She might faint anytime soon.

His heart beat faster than ever. Perhaps he'd spent too much time begging. Maybe he shouldn't have knocked for too long at the gate of the unresponsive neighbors. He probably should have thanked his mother's enemy once, not multiple times. He should have run home, not jogged. All those exaggerated actions had led to a waste of time. Now his sister is so weak that she can barely open the door. What if she faints? It would render all his efforts futile.

As sweat dripped from his temples, he leaned closer to the door, swallowing hard before he spoke. His palms were getting sweaty too. The sun was scorching even harder. It must be midday telling from the intensity at which the sun burned and shone.

"My love...please just try. This jollof looks very tasty. If you use your power, you will be able to open the door and enjoy this food. If I break the door, Dad will get angry, and you will also get scared. So please do this for your jollof."

He wasn't sure his words had made any sense, but he said them anyway. Food was always a good motivation. He just hoped it would motivate Sindara too. So after a while of waiting as the keys made the clinging sound multiple times, the door opened now, standing ajar.

There stood average-height Sindara, holding on to the doorknob so firmly, it was clear that without the support the knob was providing, she would have fallen to the ground. Her lips lacked color, her face paler than it was than the time he'd left the house. Her eyes were moist—not the watery that gathered around your eyes when you are about to cry. She had a fever. Her eyes had turned a yellowish color. Her teeth were chattering beneath her lips.

David wanted to smile and applaud her for trying very hard but worry washed away the elation. Quickly, he walked in and dropped the ceramic plate on the dining table. His arms were so relieved, as though it never hurt intensely minutes ago.

After he dropped the plate, he scooped Sindara in his arm in bridal style and lowered her gently on one of the tattered armchairs in the living room. The house smelled a little damp. He wondered why he hadn't noticed it before leaving earlier. A large number of the sun's rays shone through the windows, heating the armchairs. Hence, David placed her at an angle that was away from the sun.

He removed the plate at the top that covered the jollof. The food still smelled great and tantalizing. The sight of the deliciously cooked bundle of grains made his stomach rumble. Seeing the steel spoon dug into the meal made him one to scoop a spoonful and relish in the taste. Still, he couldn't. This was his sister's food, and it was in a small quantity. He had to let her enjoy everything. He'd eat the porridge left in the house.

He settled on the armchair and sat beside Sindara with the plate in his hand. He wrapped a large cloth around her body to make her feel warmer. Fever was a crazy phenomenon. How could one feel so cold from within when it was so hot outside?

He dug the spoon deeper into the jollof, scooping enough corned beef that was scattered around the meal. He turned towards Sindara with a small smile.

"Sindy say ahhh, " he instructed, mimicking the 'ahhh' as his mouth took a hollow, round shape.

Sindara was able to open her mouth only after shivering for some seconds. Gently, he inserted the spoonful of food into her mouth. He waited for her to gather enough momentum to chew. Sindara chewed, but she did it slowly. Her teeth were still chattering while she struggled to chew the meal.  Her eyes became moister. She'd become starved.

"How is the food? Do you like it? Is it too peppery? Do you want some water?" David fired the questions with so much care and impatience. Her satisfaction was his utmost concern.

Sindara nodded slowly. Still, she knew David needed her to talk; otherwise, he wouldn't know which question she was affirming to. "The f-food is v-very s-sweet. I'm sorry f-for
s-stressing y-y-you egbon mi, " She said slowly as a grain of jollof slipped out of her lip, sticking to her chin.

There was something about Sindara's apology that made it automatically acceptable. Not because she was cute or had that default innocence that most children had. It was the realization in her eyes. The genuine remorse. It seemed like she had taken her time to reflect—perhaps after seeing David's skin glistened with so much sweat or how haggard he looked.

She didn't ask him why he was sweating as soon as she saw him. She didn't have a puzzled look on her face—as most children would. She thought it through in her mind instead. It dawned quickly on her that David was sweating that much because he had to help her find jollof. After all, she had been so stubborn and wouldn't eat what was available at home. David could see all these things in the way she had apologized. It was a genuine apology—a sorriness that hit differently.

At that moment, he felt proud. He felt seen. Someone appreciated his efforts. For once, he was able to solve a problem, and his solution was recognized. He'd always wanted to help his family, but no one gave him a chance. When he tried, he was seen as a small boy—that teenager that had too much energy to change things but knew too little—a delusional youngster.

And so, with a smile that reached his eyes and a warmth that clouded his soul, he dug into the food and filled the spoon up again. "It's okay, Sindy. All I want from you is to enjoy this food and be strong again. You know you can't be sick. We won't be able to play sudoku. So eat up, okay?"

Sindara nodded slowly and opened her mouth willingly as David fed her. The action continued for a few more minutes. The sound of her munching was a melody to David's ears. He loved to see that she was enjoying her meal. While he watched her chew, he gazed intensely at her eyes, hoping the yellowish color would fade away and the moist will dry up.

Each time he hoped, the uncertainty that came with borrowing food from his mother's enemy ensued in his mind. So he used hope as a shield and a positive comeback to the gnawing guilt.

When the jollof remained only a tiny portion in the plate, Sindara belched slightly. "I heard the phone ring while you left, " she said and even pointed at the landline on the dining table.

Her speech was coherent now—no stammering. Her teeth didn't chatter as much anymore. She could even raise her arm independently. Relief washed over David's body as he noticed the minor changes.

Mum or dad must have seen the missed call and called back. David speculated.

"Were you able to pick up the phone?"

"No. I was too tired to walk to the dining room, " Sindara answered, shaking her head.

David tried to imagine what his mother would have said if he told her that Sindara refused to eat porridge or beans. He panicked a little at the further thought of even speaking with his mother after betraying her. He could feel the bile rise to his throat.

Seeing that Sindara was feeling better was reasonable compensation. At least his mother wouldn't have to worry about feasible options assuming she'd picked his call. Still, the fact remained that he'd betrayed her, and Sindara's getting better suddenly didn't make him feel as great as he'd expected to feel.

He shrugged it off, looking away from the dining table and resting his gaze on Sindara with a weary smile. "How do you feel now? Shall we play a little game? Or do you want to rest?" he put the plate on the floor. Since Sindara had belched, he took it as a sign that she was full and didn't need to eat any more jollof.

"I feel okay now—but still a little tired and a little cold. Before, I thought my stomach would fall off because it pained me so much."

"Sorry, my love." he ruffled her woolly hair in a subtle, affectionate manner. "We'll play games some other time. Let's have a little talk."

Sindara nodded. Her eyes sparkled at the idea of conversing with her favorite sibling. "Do you think mummy is going to give birth to a boy or a girl?" she smiled cheekily.

The sun wasn't shining through the window into the house, little cumulonimbus clouds moving to and fro, momentarily blocking the glow of the sun.

David's heart thrummed slightly at the mention of their mother. He suddenly didn't feel like hearing her name. He was stripped of the innocence he usually felt when it came to his relationship with his mother. Now it was marred. He didn't have a right to be joyful.

"I think it's going to be a boy. I want to believe it will be a boy. I have three sisters already and just one brother, " David answered Sindara with blind hope.

"I want a sister, " Sindara pouted. "Demi is a stubborn little girl and doesn't like to give me her doll. Yemisi is wicked. Alexander is too loud. You like to listen to me and give me things. Still, I want a little sister I can play with."

"That's a mean way to think of your siblings, " David chuckled but secretly enjoyed that she'd complimented only him.

"Yemisi isn't wicked. She's the firstborn, and it's so hard on first-born daughters especially. And you know she has to sell bread every day instead of going to school to help mum and Dad with money. So she's always stressed. I agree Demi is quite stubborn and proud, too, but she's not that bad. Then, Alex. Wow. I can't believe you find him lousy. He's just a funny boy."

"Hmm."

"You have to learn how to love your family even when they do annoying stuff sometimes. No one is perfect. You are a stubborn little girl too. I hope you know. You wouldn't even eat the food at home." he pinched her nostrils playfully.

Sindara giggled then face-palmed shyly. "I'm sorry egbon mi."

"It's okay. I was just joking. You already apologized, and it doesn't make me love you any less."

The landline rang.

David's attention got divided. He wanted to say something else—to ask Sindara what her dream was and what she aspired to be if things ever get better for their family. But he had to get the phone.

So he stood and walked to the dining with a kind of reluctance that was laced with fear. It was their father, Kelvin.

"Hello, sir?" David's voice came out small.

"Yes, David? Hello? You called. Is everything okay at home? Where were you when I called back?" Kelvin fired the questions. He didn't have time to waste. He had to work to provide for his family but had to check in to be sure all was well at home.

David had learned the art of asking multiple questions from his Dad. Kelvin always talked like it was his last chance to talk. So he'd say all his words at once. "Sickle Cell has shortened my life span. I don't know when I will die. So I had better say all my words." He'd say often.

So it was possible that Kelvin wasn't in a hurry at that moment and had just, out of habit, asked all the questions.

"Everything is okay at home, sir. I stepped out for a bit when you called, " he answered vaguely, too lazy to come up with a lie as to why he 'stepped out.'

"Okay. Take care. See you. Love you and Sindara," Kelvin said before he hung up.

Love you and Sindara.

David pondered on the quickness of those words yet the sense of urgency and intensity it held. Kelvin never missed a chance to say everything he intended to utter, and at that moment, the speed inspired David. He felt the need to ask Sindara about her dreams right immediately

So as he turned, he settled on the armchair next to her. "Sindy. What do you want to become in life?"

At first, Sindara pondered, intending to give an actual answer. So David waited, impressed that Sindara was slowly growing into an ambitious little girl. But just as it had taken her time to open the door an hour ago, she stared for too long, seemingly trying to move her lips but failed woefully.

"Sindy? Did you hear my question?" he asked, waving his arms slightly in front of her to be sure she was present. He was anxious and didn't know how to elicit an answer from her.

Finally, her lips moved and made a sound—something in between a cough, a whimper, and a snort. Then her lips opened up a bit more. David thought she was going to say something now. Sindara herself thought so too—even amid the new wave of pain that seized her.

But blood dripped down from her nostrils.