Shawarma obsession

Two weeks ago, Funmi came home with blood shot eyes and puffy cheeks. Her knock was answered by Ekanem, my younger sister, who wittingly slipped out of the room after letting her in, with the excuse that she had to see a friend in the next room. Of course I knew that was a lie. Funmi can be a drama queen and my sister is irritated by “damsels-in-distress”.

“Ifeanyi?” I asked as she walked in, and her tears confirmed my fears. Two years in an off-and-on relationship and his mother was still scheming; she needed an igbo girl for her son. Whether Ijeoma, Nnenna, Ogechi or Oluchi, she always had an igbo option for her son.

The next day was the beginning of mid semester tests. With Funmi’s swollen eyes and broken heart1 I knew the last thing on her mind would be the assessment. Talking to her in that moment was useless too. Her mind was too clogged to understand anything. For fifteen minutes, all she did was sob and infrequently murmur “I hate him…” amidst sniffles.

Turning to my wardrobe, I picked out a sleek black dress for her and brown flats. I knew I needed to take her somewhere, but where was the question. It had to be open air and have good food, but not the regular “good food”. Marina? Absolutely, not. Then I remembered Boxdfood at Marian. “Just perfect” , I thought to myself.

“Get dressed, bae, we’re going somewhere”, I told her. Convincing her to come with me was herculean, Finally she did accept on the grounds that if it wasn’t worth it, I’d forfeit the gown and shoes. She knew they were my favorites, but I was sure Boxdfood won’t disappoint.

Picking my purse and phone from the reading table, I ordered bolt and in ten minutes, we arrived.

Boxdfood is beautifully unique for it’s welcoming atmosphere, highlighted by Mr. Fego’s handsomely bearded smile. Funmi, a shawarma skeptic (she’s head over heels right now, though), was in no way interested in toppings so I ordered a beef shawarma whilst I had chevon and sausage. She reluctantly took a bite from hers’, then she smiled. I knew I’d won the wager.
She went ahead to finish hers before me and ordered another to take home.

The healthy combination of shawarma, smiles, love and friendship was all she needed that evening. On our way home, I asked if she was going to call Ifeanyi, to which she retorted “For what?” and hissed…

Mission accomplished!

I sat back, and smiled, enjoying Simi’s voice blasting from the stereo as we drove on. And of course, we aced the assessment!

©G. G. Joseph