The streets..

It was a Saturday morning, and I was still in bed, awakened by the usual cacophony of the mornings in the very noisy neighborhood I lived in. Tossing and turning, I was still trying to catch some more sleep, as Saturdays were the only days I had time to rest. Just as I was about to drift off, a knock on my door jolted me awake. Grumpily, I moved sluggishly to the door, and to my surprise, it was my friend Chidinma looking all chic. "Huh!" I said lethargically. "Am I no longer welcome to your house?" Chidinma asked, pushed me lightly, and allowed herself in. "Not that; I just wanted to rest today," I said in a very light tone while scrutinizing her face for any iota of anger. "I've been calling you," Chidinma said, hurling herself onto the bed. "We're attending a wedding," she said with that usual tone that left you no choice when she wanted you to accompany her somewhere. I knew she wouldn't take "no" for an answer, yet I tried saying it. "Becca, this is why you don't have a boyfriend—always locking yourself indoors!" She said she was rolling her eyes. "You don't know weddings are the best places to find love?" she asked. In all honesty, I was grateful for a friend like Chidinma, even though I never showed it. She always dragged me out to have fun, and even though I never obliged initially, I always ended up having fun. As for my not having a man, I wouldn't say it was completely accurate, as I would be in a relationship soon. I hadn't told Chidinma about Ayoola yet. I wanted to surprise her; I knew it would be official soon, and I wanted it to be first. Ayoola was everything I wanted in a man—tall with a chocolatey, glowing skin and a scent reminiscent of vanilla. He was just too perfect. His lips were so soothing; I knew this because we had shared a kiss. The day our lips met, I was transported to a different world where time seemed to stand still and nothing mattered. To make things even more perfect, he had a well-paying job. Honestly, I couldn't wait for him to ask me out; I was sure he would do that soon, as we'd been talking for four months now. "Why are you smiling like a fool? The reception starts at 12 p.m.!" Chidinma's voice rang through, disrupting my daydream. I quickly dashed into the bathroom, and when I came out, Chidinma had picked a dress for me. I just chuckled at how in sync our minds were. It was a long, tight-fitting velvet gown. My short black curly wig fell loose in ringlets. I applied light makeup that gave my face a shimmering look. My black slippers and heels were all I needed to further elevate this very gorgeous look. "Becca is dressed to kill," Chidinma chuckled as we stepped out. When we got to the venue of the wedding, I was glad I came. The hall was nothing like what I had seen before. It dazzled with luminous lighting. The beautiful flowers cascading along the walkway made the hall so exquisite. I found a seat and imagined it was Ayoola and me getting married in the hall. Soon, I started to feel a fluttering sensation in my tummy. The lulling effect of the love song playing further helped me immerse myself deeper into this thought. The décor and everything about the hall screamed "luxury!". My gaze met the wedding's order of service, glistening against the lights. It had "I n A" italicized on it, placed on the table draped with glitzy brown tablecloths, and I found it cute. Immediately, I remembered I hadn't asked Chidinma, who had invited her to the wedding. I wanted to ask, but I waved it off. I was sipping wine and still marveling at the beauty of the hall when everyone stood up and started dancing amidst cheers. Chidinma was dancing so much and chanting, "See my friend now!" "I love Irene!". Still sipping my wine, I stood up to get a proper view and saw the couple matching in. My cup slipped from my trembling hands. I screamed, choked on my drink, and started coughing when I realized Ayoola was the groom. There he was, looking dapper, dancing gleefully with his bride, and I paid no attention because I was too stunned. Immediately, I became shrouded in anger. I looked sternly at Chidinma, who was now asking me what the problem was. 'If Irene is your friend, Chidinma, who am I then?' I asked myself. I knew it wasn't a valid reason to get angry at Chidinma, but I was too angry to think rationally. I was angry about everything; Chidinma was friends with Irene; Ayoola had led me on and lied that he was single; I even attended his wedding. With sharp pangs threatening to split my chest open and tears stinging my eyes, I grabbed my bag and left the hall, muttering 'men!" at intervals, and Chidinma ran after me.