An Ace Up My Cuff 1

It’s my wedding day. I am being worked on by a Cosmetologist. My face aches slightly from the rubbing and massaging. But I’m calm, very calm. I’ve waited all my life for this day. My dream come true. My friends are busy fetching and carrying. There are about four of them in my room. My room is thoroughly but happily disorganized. The important thing is, I got what I wanted, how I wanted it.
The Cosmetologist is  finally through. I look at least a decade younger. I keep smiling at my reflection, my friends are all over me, ‘ oohing' and ‘ ahing'.
Suddenly another friend bursts in
‘ Iquo, Ibrahim is crying ooo. His groom’s men have placated him to no avail.’
I look at her, disinterestedly. I could not be bothered. I know why my would be groom is crying. Cannot be helped. You cannot have all you want. Life is like a game. You play to win, but sometimes you lose.
All ten eyes are fixed on me, expecting a reaction. Concern, anguish, worry? I stare right back at them, insouciant.


To be continued…