Chapter summary
Dara accepts a counterfeit pizza delivery, discovers its revolting contents, and reads Sarah’s intimate warning.
DARA
Tuesday Dara was having a relatively good Tuesday. Everything about the day followed her regular routine. She worked from home as a customer success executive, so she did not have to bother about work pressure, or making her hair, or dressing up for the office. Clad only in her nightgown, she hopped from the couch to her makeshift desk and then to her bed for a power nap.
Her movie flickered on her handheld while she refreshed her email inbox again and again for new customer complaints. Tuesdays were typically less hectic than Mondays, so she spent the idle time between the movie she had been watching on Netflix for over a week and wishful thoughts of the great sex she had with her boyfriend the evening before.
She had sent him a couple of messages that were still unreplied. She did not worry. He had told her the night before that he would be tied up all of Tuesday, and then out of the country from
Wednesday for some conference in Dubai. He was a busy executive.
“Oh, what an explosive evening,” she thought. The soreness she felt whenever she peed was a constant reminder of how passionate it had been. It was a small price to pay for the way he set her body on fire.
How was it even possible not to love Ernest the way she did? He was God-sent and gave her life meaning.
Her phone rang and her attention flashed to it. It had to be the delivery she had been expecting all afternoon. Pizza!
Excitedly, she raced to the door.
When Dara stepped out of her apartment to the access gate to collect her delivery, it was a lady, fully kitted in helmet, biker jacket, biker gloves and even goggles, who handed her the pack of pizza.
She was also very polite. “Good afternoon. I trust you are having a great day? You ordered pepperoni pizza? Please pay here.”
When Dara looked down to punch her PIN into the POS machine, she noticed that the slightly plump lady even had biker boots on. And something else. Under the faint smell of hot engine and leather, the rider smelled of flowers, soft and powdery and sweet, as if she had just walked out of a perfume counter.
“Impressive! Who would have thought delivery services had gone this sophisticated? Only in Lagos,” she thought, giving the lady one last look, as though to acknowledge her effort, before hopping back inside with her package.
She was hungry. She set the pack squarely on her makeshift desk, then opened the refrigerator for a pack of concentrated juice.
She wondered why the huge whiff of sizzling cheese she expected was taking so long to fill her nostrils. It did not take her long to find out why.
When she opened the neatly packed box, she did not know how to react. The smell was horrible and the sight disgusting. She froze to the point where she could barely breathe. Her small crimson lips parted into an O, but no words came out.
Right in front of her was a potpourri of slimy, watery faeces and what looked like the soiled remains of menstrual pads, tucked between the mix.
Dara retched what was left of her breakfast right into the mess.
She felt light-headed and a little disoriented.
“Oh my God!” She held both hands over her mouth and scurried into the bathroom to clean up.
When she came back to her senses, she left the mess untouched and went to the window, in the faint hope that she would see the lady who delivered it. She heaved deeply as fresh air filled her lungs.
Of course, there was no sign of the biker. Everywhere seemed just as it should be, quiet and calm.
That was the moment she got angry. She grabbed the flower vase from her windowsill and, after it, her favourite coffee mug, and flung them at the “glorious mess” in succession. The impact knocked a coloured post-it note off the box and sent it drifting slowly to the floor. She could not tell what colour it was before it was soaked in the mess, but she knew she would not touch it with a ten-mile pole.
Clamping her nostrils with her thumb and index finger, she leaned forward to make out the barely legible words scribbled on the note.
“Fatbabygirl.”
Loose Ends · Continue reading
Continue to Chapter 15
The story continues in the next chapter.
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The featured photograph is used under the Pexels licence. Contextual scene illustrations are original editorial artwork created for this serial; the characters and events are fictional. Featured photograph source. Editorial design by akinakingbogun.com.
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