Gladys sniffled once more and inhaled deeply. She collected the letter from her aunt and reread it. It was still there. It was true. She had landed a very well paid job with an oil company. “Thank God,” She breathed as she raised her eyes. “Thank you too Aunt Isioma.”
Her aunt hugged her again. “Why thank me? You did well all by yourself.”
“I still want to thank you.” Gladys had a lot to be grateful to her aunt for in the past few months. Aunt Isioma had left her the run of the cars, arranged some interviews for her and made sure she was as comfortable as possible in the house and enjoyed living in Lagos.
“You‘re welcome. Now call your mother.”
Gladys moved between the sentry palms into the dining room, taking her mobile phone from her jeans pocket at the same time and punching in her mother‘s number.
“Mama, it is me, good evening.”
“E‘hem, how are you?”
Gladys could almost see her mother settling into one of their seats back in their Enugu flat and her tears gushed again. Her mother had replied in Igbo. How she missed that language sometimes. Here in Lagos, one was forced to speak English most of the time. The locals largely spoke Yoruba or the pidgin parlance though most of them understood English. Even Aunt Isioma spoke more Yoruba or English than their native Igbo.
“Ada‘m, what is it? Why are you crying? Is it that job you went for last week?”
“No Mama, this is the Zenon position that my lecturer recommended me for.”
“Ehen, what happened? Have you finally heard from them?”
“I got the job Mama.” Gladys decided to keep it short and laughed through her tears when her mother screamed and began to sing her favorite Igbo praise song.
“Daalu maka idi nma gi Chineke, maka ihe oma I na eme. Chineke daalu…Thank you Lord for your goodness, and all you have done. Thank you Lord…”
Her mother continued to sing and Gladys danced to her voice over the phone. Finally they prayed together and said their goodbyes but not before she promised to keep her mother up to date with everything that happened. She turned to the door to see Aunt Isioma looking on.
“How is your mother?”
“She‘s fine and the boys too.”
“You don‘t have to tell me how she took the news. I watched you dancing.”