Chapter Five - An Unfamiliar Route

L

By the time Tiara stepped out of the compound, the sun was already high above Mushin.

The heat settled on her skin almost immediately.

She adjusted the strap of her bag and looked down the street one last time.

She had left with only one thing she was certain about.

She had to find something to do.

The ₦2,000 she had saved sat inside her bag.

It wasn't much.

But to Tiara, it was everything.

She had counted it so many times she already knew the notes by heart.

One thousand.

Five hundred.

Two hundred.

Two hundred.

One hundred.

Two thousand naira.

That was all she had.

And somehow, she had convinced herself it would be enough to get her somewhere and give her a fresh start.

She walked until she reached the bus stop.

A yellow danfo pulled up.

"Ikeja! Ikeja! Ikeja!"

The conductor leaned halfway out of the bus, slapping the side of it as though the vehicle might leave without him.

Tiara hesitated.

Then she climbed in.

The moment she entered, she knew she had made a mistake.

Not a life-changing mistake.

Just a Lagos-transport kind of mistake.

The bus was packed.

People were squeezed into seats that seemed to have been designed for fewer human beings. Someone's elbow was pressed against her side. A woman's handbag was digging into her lap. A man beside the window was already asleep, his head bobbing dangerously with every movement of the bus.

Tiara stood there for a moment, wondering where exactly she was supposed to fit.

"Move inside," the conductor shouted.

"Where?"

The conductor stared at her.

"Madam, enter now. You want us to carry you on top?"

A few passengers laughed.

Tiara quickly squeezed herself further inside.

Her bag was pressed against her stomach.

She lowered her eyes.

The bus jerked forward.

She grabbed the seat in front of her.

Then she noticed it.

People were looking at her.

Not everyone.

But enough.

A woman across the aisle glanced at her stomach, looked away, then looked again.

A man sitting near the window stared for a second longer than necessary before turning his face.

Two women behind her whispered something.

Tiara couldn't hear what they said.

She didn't need to.

Her body had already learned to recognize that kind of look.

She shifted in her seat.

Her back pressed against the window.

There was nowhere else to go.

The people around her seemed to form a wall.

She felt trapped between strangers and their curiosity.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of her dress.

Then, almost unconsciously, she looked down at her stomach.

The bump was obvious.

There was no hiding it anymore.

She placed her hand over it.

For a moment, she wondered what everyone was thinking.

Was it pity?

Disapproval?

Curiosity?

Or were they simply looking because they had nothing better to do?

She hated that she cared.

But she did.

A woman sitting opposite her suddenly leaned forward.

"My dear."

Tiara looked up.

"Yes, ma?"

The woman glanced at her stomach again.

"Do you know that—"

A younger woman beside her immediately touched her arm.

"Mummy."

The older woman stopped.

"What?"

"Leave her."

"I was only trying to—"

"Mummy, please."

The daughter gave her a look that said enough.

The older woman clicked her tongue and leaned back.

Tiara stared at her hands.

She didn't know what the woman had been about to say.

Maybe that she was too young.

Maybe that she had ruined her life.

Maybe that she should have listened to her parents.

Maybe something worse.

Her mind supplied every possibility.

The bus rattled over a rough patch of road.

Tiara's shoulder bumped against the window.

She barely noticed.

She just wanted to disappear.

The conductor shouted again.

"Madam! Your fare!"

Tiara brought out her money.

"Ikeja."

"Seven hundred."

She handed him the money.

He counted it and moved on.

Tiara looked down at the remaining notes.

Her heart sank.

By the time she finally reached Ikeja, another ₦1,000 had gone.

She stepped down from the bus with only ₦300 left.

She stood beside the road.

For several seconds, she simply stared at the money in her palm.

₦300.

She let out a short breath.

"Ah."

Then she laughed quietly.

It wasn't a happy laugh.

It was the kind of laugh that came when crying felt too dramatic.

"So Lagos has already collected ₦1,700."

She shook her head.

"God abeg."

She folded the money carefully and put it back into her bag.

Then she looked around.

Ikeja.

She had heard the name countless times.

But hearing about a place and standing inside it were two different things.

The streets felt unfamiliar beneath her feet.

Cars moved constantly.

People walked with purpose.

Shop owners called out to customers.

Buses stopped and started.

Horns sounded from every direction.

Everyone seemed to know where they were going.

Except her.

She stood there for a moment, suddenly aware of how alone she was.

At home, even when things were terrible, she knew the streets.

She knew the faces.

She knew which woman sold bread near the junction.

She knew where to get water.

She knew which roads to avoid after dark.

Here, she knew nothing.

She pulled her bag closer.

Then she started walking.

She entered the first clothing shop she saw.

"Good afternoon, ma."

The woman behind the counter looked up.

"Good afternoon."

"Please, ma. Do you need someone to help you here?"

The woman looked at her.

Then at her stomach.

Then back at her.

"No."

Tiara swallowed.

"Okay, ma. Thank you."

She left.

The second shop rejected her.

The third didn't even let her finish.

At the fourth, the woman listened for a few seconds before shaking her head.

"Sorry, we don't need anybody."

"Okay."

Tiara forced a smile and left.

The fifth woman looked at her stomach and sighed.

"Are you sure you can work?"

"Yes, ma."

"You're pregnant."

"I know."

"And you're looking for work?"

"Yes."

The woman shook her head.

"I can't."

Tiara nodded.

"Okay."

She walked away.

By the time she reached the next street, the soles of her feet were beginning to ache.

She stopped beneath the narrow shade of a building.

Sweat gathered along her forehead.

She wiped it away.

Her stomach growled.

She looked at the ₦300 in her bag.

Food would reduce it.

Transport would reduce it.

Almost everything would reduce it.

She closed the bag.

No.

She needed that money.

She would find work first.

She pushed herself away from the wall.

"One more."

She looked down the street.

"One more place."

And she kept walking.

The afternoon sun seemed to grow hotter with every street she crossed.

She stopped at another shop.

Then another.

The answers remained the same.

No vacancy.

We don't need anybody.

Try somewhere else.

At one point, a woman didn't even look up from her phone before waving her away.

Tiara walked out quietly.

Her confidence was beginning to wear thin.

She had imagined this differently.

She had thought that once she got to Ikeja, she would find something.

Anything.

Instead, she had spent ₦1,700 just getting there and was now walking around with ₦300, an empty stomach, aching feet and a pregnancy that seemed to announce her presence before she even opened her mouth.

She stopped beside a roadside stall and took a deep breath.

"I'm not going back."

She said it quietly.

Not because she knew what she was going to do.

She simply couldn't afford to go back.

She continued.

After another few minutes, she noticed a small clothing shop tucked between two larger stores.

It wasn't fancy.

The signboard above it had faded badly, and some of the clothes were hanging outside beneath the shade of a worn canopy.

A middle-aged woman sat on a low plastic chair, sorting clothes into different piles.

Tiara slowed down.

She looked at the woman.

Then at the clothes.

Then back at the woman.

She hesitated before approaching.

"Good afternoon, ma."

The woman looked up.

"Afternoon."

"Please, ma…"

The woman waited.

"Do you need someone to help you in the shop?"

The woman looked her over.

Her eyes stopped briefly at Tiara's stomach.

Then returned to her face.

"What kind of help?"

"Anything, ma. I can arrange clothes, attend to customers, clean the shop. I can learn."

The woman gave a small scoff.

"Everybody says they can learn."

Tiara's fingers tightened around her bag strap.

"I really need the work."

The woman continued sorting the clothes.

"You've worked in a clothing shop before?"

"No, ma."

"Then why should I take you?"

Tiara opened her mouth.

Closed it.

She didn't have a good answer.

She looked down.

"I don't know."

The woman glanced at her again.

"Then you should know that I can't just put anybody here."

"I understand."

"Do you?"

"Yes, ma."

The woman picked up another piece of clothing.

"Go and try somewhere else."

Tiara's heart dropped.

She nodded.

"Okay, ma."

She turned to leave.

"Wait."

Tiara stopped.

The woman was still looking at her.

"What happened to your previous job?"

"I didn't have one."

"Hmm."

The woman studied her face for a few seconds.

"You came to Ikeja looking for work without knowing anybody?"

Tiara nodded.

"Yes, ma."

"And you came alone?"

"Yes."

The woman shook her head.

"That's not wise."

Tiara lowered her eyes.

"I didn't know where else to go."

For the first time, something in the woman's expression changed.

Not pity.

Something closer to concern.

She looked at Tiara's tired face, then at the bag hanging from her shoulder.

"How much money do you have?"

Tiara hesitated.

"Three hundred naira."

The woman's eyebrows rose.

"Three hundred?"

"Yes, ma."

"And you're walking around looking for work?"

"Yes."

The woman shook her head slowly.

"Young people."

Tiara remained silent.

The woman sighed.

"What's your name?"

"Tiara."

"I'm Mama Bose."

Tiara nodded.

"Okay, ma."

Mama Bose pointed toward the chair opposite her.

"Sit down."

Tiara sat.

"Have you eaten?"

Tiara looked away.

Mama Bose noticed.

"You haven't."

Tiara shook her head.

Mama Bose sighed again.

"You people like suffering unnecessarily."

Tiara almost smiled.

"Sorry, ma."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"I don't know."

Mama Bose gave a short laugh.

"Exactly."

She stood and walked into the shop.

Tiara watched her disappear behind a curtain.

A few moments later, she returned with a sachet of water and a small snack.

"Eat."

Tiara stared at them.

"Ma, I—"

"Eat first. You can thank me later."

Tiara accepted them.

"Thank you."

Mama Bose sat back down.

"So, Tiara."

"Yes, ma?"

"If I give you work, will you actually work?"

"Yes."

"Don't say yes because you're desperate."

Tiara looked directly at her.

"I'll work."

Mama Bose nodded slowly.

"We'll see."

She pointed toward the clothes.

"Tomorrow morning. Come early."

Tiara blinked.

"You mean… I got the work?"

"Don't celebrate yet."

A small smile finally appeared on Tiara's face.

Mama Bose noticed it.

"You'll start with cleaning and arranging. If you do well, I'll teach you the rest."

"Yes, ma."

"And don't expect me to treat you specially because you're pregnant."

Tiara nodded.

"I won't."

"Good."

Mama Bose picked up another pile of clothes.

"Then tomorrow, we'll see what you can do."

Tiara stood.

"Thank you, ma."

Mama Bose waved her away.

"Go and rest."

Tiara took a few steps before turning back.

"Ma?"

Mama Bose looked up.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Mama Bose stared at her for a moment before looking away.

"Just come tomorrow."

Tiara nodded.

She walked out of the shop.

The street was still noisy.

The sun was still hot.

Her feet still hurt.

She still had only ₦300.

But now, she had somewhere to be the next morning.

And for today, that was enough.