THE JOG ought to have helped. It didn't. Rather, she'd spent the last hour ruminating on what Gracie had told her. I'm getting married. She could have laughed it off as a joke except Gracie went after what she wanted with unapologetic vigor, including picking a random guy to marry. How had she allowed her friend to become so obsessed with marriage?

Okay, so maybe it wasn't her fault. After all, Gracie had a mind of her own and a strong will that none could match.

Pick a random guy to marry, Samantha scoffed out loud. Who did that in this part of our world? Then shrugged when her companions turned to stare at her, even attempted a smile.

The exercise was supposed to help. Who was she kidding? Gracie was getting married and that was that. Her means may not be neat or applausive, but she'd achieved her ultimate goal; landing a husband. That had been all she thought about the past five years. Congratulations should be in order except she knew if it didn't work out as she knew it wouldn't, it was definitely going to blow up in her own face. Gracie tended to be misguided sometimes, and she always had to step in to clean the mess.

But as far as Samantha Barigha was concerned, this was the highest form of careless. How could she stoop so low to pick up some guy she didn't know, invest so much in him because she wanted to marry him? Sending him abroad to study was a risk too high. What if he never returned to Nigeria? Or even decided to renege on their agreement?

For Gracie, it wasn't about the marriage, it was about the trend of being termed as 'married'. That was all she cared about.

Samantha Barigha was not impulsive. As much as she was well into spinsterhood, according to her mother, marriage was not a solution to her. If she had to get married, it wasn't going to be her doing the propositioning. Gracie hadn't felt any qualms about doing that herself. A lady of her status shouldn't be chasing for companion like it were a career goal.

Samantha Barigha, propose marriage to a man. The thought was sickening. She paused to catch her breath, waving at her companions to continue without her. But they stopped also and not wanting to hold them up, she raced them instead. No need kidding herself on this morning's jog, she concluded. It had been a complete waste of time that had only pumped her adrenaline. By the time they got to her house, she thanked her companions, hoping to be ready for her mother's visit.

***

Samantha uncorked the bottle of water and drank straight from the bottle, enjoying the feel of the cool trickle down her throat. It was an indulgence she allowed herself; a bottle of chilled water at 7am every day. It was something her mother would frown at but that was if she was around to throttle her, right? Right this moment, she was permitted to indulge.

She felt the weight on her before she could react and ended up choking back on the water when her eyes cleared enough to register it was her little sister, Rita. She glanced down at her outfit and did not groan, to her credit when Mrs Aisha entered through the kitchen.

So much for wanting to be ready to face her mother.

'Good morning, Mother.' She managed to smile at and stroke Rita's head, not at all ready for what was sure to come. She recognized the pattern like a second skin. "You're very early, today.'

Rita cautiously climbed down, already sensing the all-too-familiar dance that was bound to take place. 'How was your exercise, Ms Samantha?'

'Very healthy.' She responded hesitantly.

'Mother has a meeting this morning, and she didn't want to be late.'

Before Samantha could respond, she felt the bottle yanked from her grasp and a piece of cloth thrown at her.

'Wipe that look off your face, Samantha Barigha. You look like you just saw a live cockroach in your livingroom.'

Too bad it was almost how she felt!

Samantha pasted on a false smile and succeeded in holding back a grimace. It wouldn't do to give her mother any more ammunition than she already had. She also did not roll her eyes, much as she would have liked to and closed them instead.

'You give birth to a child and the gratitude you get is resilience and indifference. This child won't be the death of me.'

When she didn't hear any further sound, she chanced opening her eyes and groaned inwardly. Her mother stared down at her with an all-too-familiar expression that never failed to inspire fear in her as a child. What Aisha Barigha didn't realize was that she was an adult now, and she'd become immune to it. She repressed the urge to wince, not at the impact of the look but to avoid sticking out her tongue and making silly noises.

'Good morning, Mother.' Samantha handed the rag back to her mother. 'Thank you for helping with the cleaning.'

Aisha turned her back, going towards the kitchen and threw over her shoulder, 'Gracie came by the Villa and introduced her fiancé to me. Very handsome boy he is too.'

Samantha covered her face with her hands. No matter what she did, it always came down to her state of unmarried. All Gracie had to do was get engaged and her mother picked on that. She knew where this was leading. But she chose to ignore the in-between notes underlying the announcement. 'Yes, she brought him here.'

'Well, she doesn't have to worry about marriage anymore. The daughter I get is the one who can't even be bothered.' Her mother continued from the kitchen.

She knew she would never hear the end of it. She should have gone to pick Rita from the Villa yesterday. This scene could well have been avoided. For a time, at least.

Yesterday's case went on way longer than expected and on returning home, she'd found Gracie waiting at home with her fiancé. That news alone. Yeah, she couldn't go to the Villa in that state. Perhaps, she should have managed it after all.

Her mother appeared a short while later and shoved a glass of something greenish at her, ordering her to drink. All of it.

Knowing Aisha Barigha, she didn't bother questioning the contents and held her breath, gulped down the entire contents in the glass. And grimaced at the taste.

'Mother, what was that?' Holding the glass away from herself due to its vile smell.

Mrs. Aisha yanked the glass from her, 'Its merely pawpaw leaves and the barks of mango tree cooked in dogoyaro.' She went back to the kitchen, muttering, 'You'd think I poisoned her...