His hand shifts from my thigh and I feel the unwelcome cold from the absence of his touch.

"We're here," he says giving me a little smile as he gauges my sullen expression.

I turn to the window and sure enough the familiar duplex a stands down the road.

"Oh okay let me just-" I say reaching for the backseat.

He cuts in and ends up passing me my little traveling bag.

I clutch it in my lamp and wait awkwardly for what next I was supposed to do.

Isren reclines back in his seat so I take it as my cue to leave and I unbuckle my seat belt.

His hand finds an excuse to touch mine so he can plant the last kiss near my cheekbone.

Blood rushes through my ears and it takes everything in me not to melt into a puddle of goo.

"Call you later?" I ask flicking the lock button.

"Yeah, have fun at school tomorrow."

"You do know I'm writing my last paper this Friday right?" I say arching an unnaturally tamed brow; Thursday before our getaway had been for plucking.

"Am I missing anything here?" he says raising his thicker brows in turn.

"I only go to school when I have an exam to write," I explain shaking my head.

"Ah, you're living the life o," Isren says with a nostalgic smile.

I snort. "Says the millionaire himself."

This makes him fake a hiss before continuing. "I work like a dog just to make sure thousands of people don't lose their source of income."

"Old people problems." I tease enjoying the way his mouth hangs slightly open.

He then laughs in the way a typical Nigerian mother would say 'I don't blame you. "When you were begging me to kiss you, you did not remember I was an old man? It's okay na."

My lips pucker from a former grin and I glower at him. "It was only one time."

"Mhmm sure," he says taking over from me with a smirk.

"All you need is a potbelly to match your ego." I retort.

He gasps touching his pec like I had just told him to jump of Third Mainland Bridge. "This should categorize as verbal abuse. But anyways bad belle is allowed," he adds, snickering at his pun.

I size him up squarely not knowing whether to laugh or be appalled. "I thought you were posh, at what Country Club did you hear bad belle?"

His expression turns serious and he checks his side on the window before inching closer to me.

"I follow Naija meme pages on Instagram." he whispers.

"Are you kidding me?" I say exasperated with the cackling casanova beside me.

He had me convinced all rich people had three sides -reserved, amiable, and downright crazy.

That or I had ended up unlucky in the 'who wants to be a sugar baby' lottery.

"It's okay mister man I'm going," I say when it's clear his laughter wasn't dying anytime soon.

Surprisingly this sobers him and he unlocks my car door from his driver's controls.

"Take care of yourself."

"You too." I croon, lugging the bag over my shoulder.

The jog to Victoria's house is short and I reach under the mat for the keys.

To my surprise, the door swings open before I can fit the key into the lock.

There stands Vic looking like she had been dragged across a race track and back in old sweats and a tee.

She cracks a shaky smile and steps aside.

I place my bag on the sofa and rush to her side before she can finish locking the door.

"What's wrong?" I ask touching her arm lightly.

Her head snaps up to look at me and I take in the deep eyebags that went with her unkempt cornrows. "I'm sick."

She says simply as she sniffles up the stairs.

I take a glance at the open door she had forgotten all about.

No something was wrong

When I'm done I catch up to her on the top of the stairs. "Are you sure it's just sickness?"

To this, she slams her bedroom door in my face.

Normally I wouldn't press, but she had a habit of putting on a front anytime she was hurting.

So I was prepared to try one more time.

My hands take little effort to open the door once again as she turns the knob from behind.

"Sha hurry in and tell me about your trip," she says in the bumpiest subject change I had heard in my life.

"Nothing much." I say prepared to stay on topic.

"Nothing really" she mimics as she stuffs another tissue in her nostril.

"Okay, I'll tell you about it but first what have you been up to?" I say waggling my brows.

She laughs without humor and for the first time I notice just how hoarse her voice sounded.

"Bored to death reading Government with no one to talk to."

"What happened to your date?" I ask.

Victoria only smiles.

"Had to cancel it. My mom sent me on an errand for a church member."

"Ahan why?" I ask, even my mother with all her spiritual mother duties had never sent me on such a job.

She shrugs making an effort to avoid my gaze. "I like babysitting their children."

I sigh and momentarily focus on the TikTok playing on her phone.

Do not enter is written on the doorway, why can't everyone just go away...except you, you can stay.

We both look at each other as the video starts again and Vic reaches over to pause it.

"Is your mom still coming back by six?" I ask once she's back in her sitting position.

"No, she's doing a vigil again," Victoria says, easing herself down on the mattress.

I remain crisscrossed by the edge of her bed though it makes it harder for me to read her expression.

"But it's not Friday..." I begin, before it all clicks.

Her father's death anniversary was coming up.

Last year she had been ill and her mother was unavailable as well.

Now I understood better just what type of flu she had come down with.

Her head rises as my sudden silence and I quickly cover-up.

"What are you doing August 20?"

"Any event I should know of?" Victoria asks dryly.

"I'm thinking of coming over," I say.

"Don't you have any other friends to bug?" Vic answers resorting to her usual defense mechanism.

For her ego's sake, I play along.

"You know you're my fav."

"Go meet Demilade. We should be rotating shifts with you," she argues.

Ignoring the fact that he and I weren't on great terms I continue. "Just say you don't want me around."

"Drama queen," she mutters, rolling on her side.

"Is that a yes?" I ask kicking her leg lightly.

"No."

"Why not, you don't seem to have any plans," I whine.

She pretends to not hear me and I resort to my final option.

The truth.

"Victoria I know why you're not okay."

"You don't know anything," she says refusing to acknowledge the truth.

Victoria had always managed to seem unshaken by the world and up for any kind of adventure.

Yet deep down the fragile 11-year old I knew who shed a tear over every little boo-boo was still there.

"Then tell me why you don't want me around on your Dad's memorial when your mom will find some excuse to get away."

It's only when she turns to me that I realize she has been crying.

The feeling of being a self-absorbed friend only intensifies when I pull her sobbing frame into my noodle arms.

Her body violently shakes as she pours out her emotions.

My eyes glisten as I accustom my body to the rhythmic vibrations her bawling had induced.

When she pulls away the front of my dress is a damp mess but I make sure she understands that didn't matter.

What I'm surprised to see when I look at her is something else hidden in the cracked pools of her eyes' brown depths.

"You can come but I'm going to a party."

"Are you sure that's the best idea?" I ask gently. I didn't know much about losing someone but I doubted alcohol made it any better.

"I haven't cried like this since last year. There's no way I'm going to sit at home and wallow in this misery." She says shaking her head as though it cemented her words.

"It may be hard but I don't want you.." I begin but she cuts me off.

"Alcoholism is the least of my problems. If I didn't have it then I won't have it now."

I sigh feeling completely defeated.

Of all the things I could find a quick fix for on google, this was not one of them.

"Then let's take the party by storm," I say knowing she would like something like that.

I could see she lacked the emotional stamina to joke back but she smiled a little nonetheless.

"My dad won't be here for another hour. So what would you like to do."

"Tune out my misery with tiktoks," she says reaching for her phone.

I stop myself from narrowing my eyes at her for numbing the pain she felt.

Loss ripped one's heart out of their chest, yet demanded they breathe with their lungs alone.

It was easy in theory.

But sometimes it felt better to not feel at all, and act for a few minutes like one's world wasn't spinning off its axis.