Chapter 2: Mop, Madness, and Market Runs

"Aunty Ru, abeg, I fit rest small?"

I bend for mop, sweat dey drip from my forehead like say I run marathon. The room warm, generator noise dey hum for background. One fine woman wey wear spaghetti top and shorts just dey relax for settee, eyes closed, dey enjoy herself.

Her skin dey shine, and her long nails just dey tap for phone, dey chat. Her perfume dey mix with that menthol smell for parlour, make everywhere get one kind air.

I wipe sweat comot for my forehead, call her again, "Aunty Ru, if I continue like this, tomorrow I no go fit stand up o."

My voice crack small as I talk. Even my leg dey shake. For inside me, I dey pray make she pity me.

Aunty Ru no even move.

She just dey there like queen for palace. Her body language talk say she no get your time. Sometimes I go wonder if na me she dey train make I sabi this work or she just like see person dey suffer.

"Aunty Ru?"

Na so one pillow just land for my body.

She no even look me face. Na her classic style be that—talk less, act quick. The pillow heavy small, I just catch am, dey look am, my mind dey ask, "Wetin I do this woman?"

Ruth shout, "You never mop reach ten times, do am two more!"

Her voice sharp like bell. I just bone face, continue to dey mop floor.

E no get as you go do, Aunty Ru no dey ever gree for lazy talk. If you like use sweet mouth, she go still send you message.

Yesterday, two drunk men enter. One just vomit for ground, the other see am, come follow vomit too.

As for the girls—dem never see that kind thing before.

The smell alone fit wake dead man. All those fine girls wey dey form, begin shout, dey run up and down. Their wahala na another story.

You fit guess: everybody begin vomit one by one.

Omo, na so everywhere scatter. If na village, dem for pour salt and water everywhere, but for Lagos, na everybody dey run. Even Ngozi run comot go backyard. If you see the way dem dey hold nose, you go pity dem.

Me, I no vomit. I just pinch my nose, dey look all the mess wey those two men pour out.

That day, I just dey think, "Na so this Lagos go dey test person patience?" If I get better job, I no go dey here dey watch grown men dey disgrace themselves.

When I see am, I just laugh.

So na only drink dem chop—dem no even order one plate of food?

I shake my head. All these big men, dem just dey carry beer dey flex, but food dem no wan chop. Na why dem dey misbehave.

Ngozi wey dey front desk see say I don tire, come help me.

She just carry mop, dey whisper, "Sorry o, Tolu. No mind them, na so dem dey do." Her smile dey try calm me. If not for Ngozi, e for worse pass as e be.

I just weak. To serve women no be beans at all.

Even when I think say na small work, the wahala pass my power. Na so I go dey count hours make shift finish.