A short story: Yejide’s Sojourn

Yejide woke up with a start, acutely aware that she was late even without glancing at the clock in her bedroom, which always ticked steadily as it counted down the seconds. She quickly jumped out of bed and dashed into the bathroom, splashing water on her face at the sink. In the dim light of the fluorescent bathroom mirror, she caught sight of her reflection: her eyes were puffy, and her lips were swollen from inebriated sleep. She had consumed an entire bottle of wine the night before in celebration of landing a new job, and the searing headache that she now felt on one side of her head made her contemplate crawling back into bed.

She thought about the past three years of her unemployment, following a mandatory leave of absence imposed by her former boss due to the company’s insufficient profits. They could no longer afford to pay her, and she would have worked for free if they had allowed it; she was passionate about her role as a product managing assistant and excelled at it. However, she knew her salary was merely an excuse. She was let go while the rest of her colleagues were retained because they wanted to teach her a lesson for standing up to her boss.

Her former boss, a stout-looking man in his late 50s with deeply rooted patriarchal values, often overlooked women. He also despised being challenged, and when he mistakenly credited Tunde, one of Yejide’s colleagues, for brilliance on a project that Yejide had spearheaded singlehandedly, she wasted no time in correcting him. As she pointed out the error in front of everyone, all eyes fell on her while her colleagues shifted uncomfortably in their seats. At that time, Yejide was in her mid-20s and freshly out of university. She didn’t fully grasp workplace politics and didn’t think much about the implications of her actions. 

Her work best friend, Pelumi, had dragged her to the restroom after the meeting and urged, “You have to apologize to him!” But Yejide had refused to say sorry, especially since she hadn’t done anything wrong. That incident would irreparably bruise her boss’s ego and marked the beginning of her end at the company.

The prolonged stretch of unemployment had been tough on her, but now that she finally had a new job after all this time, she knew she couldn’t show up in her current dishevelled state. Today was her first day at Descargot, one of the most reputable consulting firms in the country, where she will work as an operations team lead. She wanted to put her best foot forward.

Snapping out of her reverie, Yejide hurriedly brushed her teeth and returned to her room to lay out her clothes for the day. She considered wearing a suit but quickly dismissed the idea, worried it would make her appear overzealous—certainly not the impression she wanted to give on her first day. Instead, she opted for a patterned black and white shirt paired with plain black pants. She chose a black purse and matching medium-heeled court shoes, aiming for a look that was professional yet less intimidating.

She knew she should have prepared her outfit the night before, but staying up late for a video chat with Pelumi, who needed cheering up after her recent heartbreak, had taken priority. Pelumi, once her work best friend and now her life best friend, had been incredibly supportive while Yejide navigated unemployment. She would often send job postings and even went as far as pay for training courses to help Yejide upskill and qualify for more roles.

So when Pelumi needed her, it was the least Yejide could do. They had shared tears at first, but soon they were telling each other jokes, making sure to put Silas at the centre of their humour. Yejide had always been wary of Pelumi’s boyfriend, Silas. He had an air about him that seemed untrustworthy, evident in the way he sometimes held her hand a second longer than normal during their exchanges. So when Pelumi caught him cheating with his coworker and confided in Yejide, it didn’t come as a surprise. Before ending her phone call with Pelumi last night, Yejide made sure to remind her not to blame herself for his actions; it was his fault, not hers. While the situation was painful, Yejide believed her best friend would come out stronger in the end. In light of everything that has occurred, she was grateful to have been there for her.

Yejide knew she had no time to waste, so she quickly grabbed her phone to call Olamide, her boyfriend. Her phone lit up with a background image of the two of them clinging to each other at the beach during their first anniversary. Olamide worked at a bank, and that was where they met. She remembered how reluctant she had been to exchange contact information, but Olamide had been persistent and wrote his number on the back of her bank teller receipt.

As an attractive woman who often received a lot of attention from admirers, Yejide didn’t think much of the encounter and soon forgot about it. However, one day while doing her laundry, she found the slip tucked away in the back of the jeans she had worn that day. It was then she saw what he had written alongside his phone number: “I will remain frozen in time until the day that I hear from you again.” 

She decided to call him just for the fun of it. When he picked up, she casually said, “Hello, this is Yejide. We met at the bank.” The first thing he replied with was, “You have no idea how long I’ve stayed frozen for,” which made her laugh. They had a brief conversation, and that singular call led to many more, ultimately marking the beginning of their relationship.

Now, after two years together, Yejide knew in her heart that she wanted to marry him. His certainty about their future made her happy and more devoted to him. She noticed that he had already sent her a text wishing her a good first day at work and telling her he loved her. “You’re amazing, and now everyone gets to see that at your new job,” the text read. She smiled, knowing he would be busy at work, and decided she would call him later to say goodbye and that she loved him too.

Yejide rushed back into the bathroom and turned the water up to a near-scalding temperature. As she was getting into the bath, she remembered her mother’s warning that one day she would slip and hit her head if she didn’t stop wearing flip-flops in the tub. Her mother who wouldn’t eat without first blessing her food in Jesus’s name was superstitious and full of conspiracy theories but while Yejide was sceptical about many things, she knew her mother was right about this, especially since she recalled how her cousin Shubomi nearly had a serious accident last year when she slipped. It could have been fatal if Shubomi hadn’t grabbed onto the showerhead in time. Suddenly, Yejide felt an urge to speak to her mother, but she knew she couldn’t—not anymore. She reminded herself again that she was running late. 

As she selected her morning playlist on Spotify, she took off her slippers and stepped into the bathtub, adjusting the water to a warmer temperature than she was used to. Once under the shower, she sang along to “A Moment Like This” by Leona Lewis, but soon realized she disliked the lukewarm water against her skin. She turned the water up until it reached the perfect temperature for her: piercingly hot, yet not uncomfortable.

Some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this.

She had waited a lifetime for this moment, she thought to herself. A job she had always wanted, a best friend who supported her, and a man who worshipped the ground she walked on. She had a beautiful life, and she was grateful for it. After quickly rinsing off the sods from her body, she turned off the shower. Stepping out of the bath, she paused to look at her reflection in the mirror and noticed her pale appearance. It was almost as if she could see right through herself and that caused her to shiver for a moment. 

“You are worthy, and you know you always have been. You are deserving, and you know you always have been,” she said to her reflection, speaking aloud. Yejide had a habit of talking to herself, even when she wasn’t alone. Sometimes, she would shake her head and clap her hands dramatically for emphasis, often receiving curious glances from strangers. However, everyone who knew her had grown accustomed to her quirks and was unfazed by them. Now she would be able to talk to herself without attracting those strange looks anymore, she thought. That made her feel both sad and liberated.

Yejide knew she was racing against time. She quickly dried off, left the bathroom, and got dressed. After checking her bag to make sure she had everything she needed before leaving the house, she paused to take a long look around her studio apartment, where she had lived for the past two years. Her rent had been covered by some of the freelance work she had managed to secure after her dismissal. 

The apartment held all of her belongings: a medium-sized bedside fridge that had long since ceased working, now repurposed as a makeshift desk and a drawer for her daily essentials; a standing fan with a broken neck that still managed to function; a collection of second-hand books from her university days, which she must have reread a thousand times; and, most importantly, her bed—her restful bed.

Although she had few belongings, they had served her well for as long as she needed them. Soon, she would see them for the last time. Her life was different now, after all. Fully dressed and ready to leave, Yejide took one final look at her bed and the body lying atop it. A body that was once alive and active was now in an eternal deep sleep. With a resigned smile of acceptance on her face, Yejide shut the door of her flat behind her, leaving the peaceful form in bed for the very last time. She stepped out, never to return.