Page 88 of Death of the Author
“It’s okay, Mom. This way is better.” Waaaaay better. The last thing she needed was to stay at the palace and be inundated with a procession of potential suitors. Though making Msizi jealous would have been a plus.
“Okay, o. Call me when you can,” her mother said, a hint of anxiety still in her voice. “Doesn’t matter the time, I will answer.”
Zelu spent most of the night staring at the TV, which showed only the news and Nollywood films. When the sun finally began to rise, she put on her exos and stood on the balcony to witness its arrival. She looked at her phone and considered calling Msizi again, but decided against it. She had brought her computer in case she actually wanted to try writing something, maybe even book two. She hadn’t tried in so long, and she still didn’t feel like trying now. The stupid film had really done a number on her; she needed to shake it out of her system, and she had no idea how long that would take. She’d extended the due date with her publisher five times.Rusted Robotscontinued to sell, pushed by the subsequent success of the movie, but her editor, agents, and fans were officially champing at the bit. Asking, bugging, pushing, nagging. Someone had posted on her social media:
Why are you torturing us, Zelu?
She wanted to ask them the same thing.
Around eight o’clock, Hugo texted her. Everyone was already at breakfast. She rushed to get dressed and join them.
“I’m so wide awake,” she said, biting into a piece of bread. They sat at an outside table at the hotel restaurant.
“Ah, the euphoria of fresh jet lag,” Uchenna said.
“Feels like being a bit high,” Marcy agreed. They all laughed.
The air smelled glorious. The bread Zelu was eating was the best bread she’d ever tasted. Her tea was delicious. And she was sitting with threegood friends. She just wished the waitresses near the back of the restaurant would stop staring, talking shit, and giggling.
“Oh man, I’m in Africa,” Marcy said for the millionth time, grinning.
“Nigeria,” Uchenna said. “Specifics matter.”
“Lagos,” Marcy said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know the street name, sorry.”
“Don’t start, Uchenna,” Zelu said, laughing. “Let Marcy vibe.”
“Thank you, Zelu,” Marcy said. “Afrrreeeeekaaaaaaah!”
“Afrrreeeeekaaaaaaaaaaah!” Zelu said, imitating her bad accent. “Deh mothahland, where eet allbegan!”
“I dunno, man,” Marcy said. “For you and Uchenna, it’s one thing. You, Hugo, you’re a white guy; it’s an adventure for you. For me...” She sighed and shook her head, pressing her fists to her chest. “I don’t care how cheesy it sounds. It’s a homecoming. I’m the first in my immediate family to make it back here.” She tilted her head, letting the sun warm her face. “Any of you get any sleep at all?”
“Slept like a babe,” Hugo said. He’d ordered a plate of white rice, stew, and goat meat for breakfast and eaten every bite. He patted his belly. “Jet lag is my friend, not my enemy.”
Uchenna kissed his teeth and rolled his eyes.
“How?” Zelu asked.
Hugo tapped his temple knowingly. “You lean into it. When you want to sleep, you sleep. When you’re awake, just be awake. I’m telling you, it works. Even when I was in New Zealand, I was fine.”
“That really works?” Marcy asked.
“Yep.”
“Nah,” Uchenna countered. “The body is spinning, and doing that will just make it spin faster. You need to give it order.”
Hugo shrugged. “Which of us is well rested and which of us is high on sleep deprivation?”
Marcy got up. “Then I’m going to my room right now and going to sleep.”
Zelu looked up at her. “Wait, I thought we were going to the beach together.”
“Go without me,” Marcy said over her shoulder.
“Have a nice sleep!” Hugo called after her.
Zelu rushed back to her room and changed into her swimsuit. She put on a pair of long jean shorts, a black T-shirt with the wordjusticeon the chest, and some sandals. Then she put her exos back on. Hugo and Uchenna were waiting in the lobby when she came down. She frowned at Uchenna, who wore a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers.
