Michael took a deep breath, deciding to take things easy. On his way home, he had been thinking about the situation and all that his mother had said.
No one said he had to marry her immediately. He had decided to bid his time, watch her, and observe her behavior.
He walked over to the dining table and sat down while his mother rose to go and get an extra plate for him.
Alone with Amara now, he looked at her, "So you will be leaving the hotel tomorrow," he said, and she nodded.
"Yes. Thank you for today and everything," she said, and he nodded.
His mother returned and served him some of the food. Once she settled down again, Amara looked at her.
"The food is delicious," Amara said, and she laughed.
"Are you sure?" She asked, and Amara nodded.
"Yes, ma. It is very nice," Amara said as she ate, not noticing the way Michael was watching her as she ate.
"So, you said you can cook well. Can you cook like this?" Michael's mother asked, and Amara laughed.
"Mummy, you want to set me up. How can I cook like you? I'm just a small girl compared to you and your many years of cooking experience. I'm trying sha," Amara said, and Michael's mother laughed.
As Michael watched her, he wondered if she really did not consider him her type at all because he could not understand how she was eating the Eba without steeze.
The issue was not that she was eating mannerlessly or chewing anyhow, but she was just eating as if a man were not at the dining table with her. She did not send him at all.
How could she cut a normal full hand of eba and swallow it two times when she should be cutting tiny balls? Couldn't she form a little? He wondered and glanced at his mother.
He was surprised to see her watching him with a broad smile, and he scowled, annoyed that his mother was enjoying his frustration.
"Amara, what is your favorite food?" Michael's mother asked, enjoying the way she was eating like a normal person instead of forming.
"I don't have a favorite. Na ajebutter dey get favorite. There is no food I don't love. There have been times when we did not have food to eat. So, we rush any food we see. But I prefer swallow to rice and the rest sha. Swallow is heavier than the others, so when we eat it and drink enough water, our stomach will be full and it will carry us for a long time before we get hungry again," she said with a grin.
Michael looked at her, feeling sorry, and wondered what kind of life she and her family had lived. He couldn't remember a time when he had ever been hungry because there was nothing to eat in the house. They had always lived in abundance, so he couldn't imagine the picture she was painting.
"That makes sense. No wonder you know how to fast," Michael's mother joked, and Amara laughed while Michael wondered what the joke was about and why they were laughing.
"Earlier, you said you have four siblings. How old are they?" Michael's mother asked as they continued to eat.
"My immediate younger sister, Nk, is twenty-three years old, and the boy, Emeke, is twenty. The last two are twins. Justice and Justina are sixteen now."
"They're all grown up. What are they doing?" Michael's mother asked curiously.
"The boys clear people's farms and help them plant crops while my sisters hawk water and groundnuts for my mother," she said. Michael's mother sighed softly, and Michael couldn't help feeling sorry for her family.
"But they all completed secondary school?" Michael's mother asked, and she nodded.
"Yes, ma. They did. How about you bring at least one of your sisters or the two to come and stay with you? You can teach them how to sew so the three of you can work together. It will be easier for the three of you to earn together. Maybe you can do the cleaning job, sewing, and whatever else together, and the financial burden will be reduced on you," she suggested.
Amara considered it for a moment. "It's a good idea, but I'm not sure I have what it takes to do that yet. And I will have to discuss it with my mother, too. After I settle down a little, I will tell my mother and work towards it," she said, and Michael's mother nodded.
They ate in silence for a while, and just as Michael was planning to stand up and retire to his room, his mother feigned a yawn.
"I'm tired. I need to go to bed. Tega, please go and drop Amara off at the hotel when you people finish eating. I'm going to rest. Today has been a long day," she said as she washed her hands.
Before she could finish, Amara was already standing up. "Sorry for the stress, ma. Thank you for everything…"
"Amara, sit down and eat your food. You have thanked me enough already," she said, while Michael watched his mother, wondering what she was up to this time.
"Let me clear the plates first," Amara said, and Michael's mother shook her head, but Amara refused.
"Okay, just leave it here. When I finish eating, I will clear the plates. I can't come and eat free food and not wash the plates," Amara insisted.
"Okay. No problem. I'm going inside. I need to call my husband and daughter before I go to bed. We will see tomorrow," she said with a wave at Amara, then grinned at Michael before walking away.
Michael sighed inwardly as he watched her go while humming 'Miracle nuh Dey tire Jesus' under her breath.
Alone at the dining table with Amara now, Michael tried to force himself to eat even though he had lost his appetite. He couldn't just stand up and leave since he knew that would be rude. She was a guest in his house, and he had to stay there. His mother had obviously set him up to sit down and talk to Amara.
It seemed like his mother planned him. Or maybe God was the one using her to frustrate him and show him that he didn't have an excuse.
He didn't say anything as he watched her eat from the corner of his eye. He expected her to say something or try to bring up a conversation like most girls did with him, but she just focused on her food.
Although Amara wanted to ask him how his day was and some questions about the neighborhood, she didn't bother herself. She had not missed how he had been talking to her lately as if she had done something to offend him, so she did not want to ask a question that would seem like she was forcing him to talk to her.
She reasoned that maybe God used him to save her that night so that she would meet his mother, and his role in her life was over. Maybe his mother was the one who was her destiny helper.
She remembered that he said she was just his convert when he told his mother how they had met each other. So, there was no need to force any friendship between them.
When the silence made Michael uncomfortable, he looked at her and said, "So, do you like the Hotel?"
Amara looked up from the Kpomo she was biting, "Me?" She asked, surprised that he was trying to make small talk.
Michael raised a brow. "Yes. You."
"I thought I did something to offend you, and you didn't want to talk to me again," she said, and Michael shook his head.
"You did not offend me," he said.
"I did not? Thanks for letting me know. I don't have to worry about it again. And yes I like the hotel. Thank you," she said, and resumed chewing the meat.
Michael watched her, not understanding her behavior.
"How old are you?" Michael asked, wondering why she was so bold.
"Twenty-six going to twenty-seven soon," she said as she washed her hands.
"Are you done eating?" She asked when he washed his hands.
"Yes," Michael said, and they both rose.
Amara stacked the plates and trays and carried them to the kitchen. Michael followed her because it was his kitchen, and he didn't want to leave a stranger in it.
"When is your birthday?" Michael asked, and Amara paused.
She turned to look at him. "Why are you asking?" She asked, making Michael wonder why she was asking him that.
When he asked her age, she said it easily, so why was telling him her birthday a big deal?
"Because I want to know," Michael said, and Amara nodded.
"You want to know my birthday or you want to know me?" Amara asked, and Michael hesitated.
If he said he wanted to know her she would think he was interested in her. He didn't want her to think that way. He didn't plan to tell her anything about marrying her until he was certain she was fit for him.
"I want to know your birthday," Michael said, and her brows went up.
"What do you want to do with it? I don't think we are close enough for these questions you are asking me," she said, slightly annoyed that he was more interested in her birthday than the person that was born on the day.
"We don't have to be close for me to know your age or birthday," he said defensively.
"I only tell people I'm close to personal details about myself," she said as she returned her attention to the dishes.
The conversation was beginning to sound annoying and childish to her.
"I am just trying to keep you company by conversing with you while you wash the plates," he said, cringing as he said the words.
Amara almost laughed at that. Conversation? The best way to keep her company was to ask her about her age and birthday?
"Thank you. But you don't have to keep me company. This conversation is awkward. I will finish up quickly and leave," Amara said, wanting him to leave.
The conversation was awkward? What was she feeling like? He didn't blame her. He blamed himself for trying to start up a conversation with her.
"When you're done, let me know so that I can drop you off," Michael muttered, turning to leave for his room.
"You don't have to drop me off. I can take Keke back to the hotel," Amara said, since she did not want to sit in the car with him.
He was annoying her and she did not even know why she was annoyed. Maybe it was because she was disappointed that he was not acting the way she expected someone like him to act.
"I will drop you off," Michael said, and walked away before she could protest.
'She even has bad character. How can she talk to somebody that is helping her like that?' He asked himself, annoyed by her behavior.