Oh, what can defeat the smell of independence; the fresh paint, the burnt toast and even the anxiety.
With the type of drama she had only seen in foreign coming-of-age movies, Tonye shut the door to her new apartment.
And as if the words were lyrics of a song, she began chanting: “No curfews, No “where are you?” texts, No dad waiting by the kitchen counter with his line; “List or no money, Tonye.” She continued with a hum.
For as long as she had lived, Tonye had hated the List Rule. Every time she had to go shopping, Daddy demanded for a detailed breakdown of the use case of the money she wanted. “It’s how you stay focused,” he would always reiterate, like he was quoting from the Book of “Responsible Adulting.” She always rolled her eyes but not without going back in to secretly scribble on a paper ten minutes later just to get the money she needed.
But now, in the amazing face of adulthood, she was finally free. The cupboards in her new kitchen were as empty as a just-washed cooking pot, her fridge hummed with anticipation, and she had a fat stack of bills in her tote bag. She was in a new world of no list, and no rules. Just vibes.
She booked a ride to Everyday People Mart, the largest supermarket in town. As the car weaved through the traffic, Tonye scrolled through TikTok for “new apartment hauls” content, mentally bookmarking aesthetic storage jars, fancy mugs, and pastel dish towels.
The sliding glass doors of the supermarket flew open like the gates of great opportunity.
Getting to the first aisle, She grabbed scented candles, because why not? Her new space needed some vibes, three packs of Oreos, an overpriced cactus plant named Spike, and a wireless speaker she obviously didn’t budget for.
She then made a detour to the second aisle. She immediately picked the Instant noodles that came in some kind of neon packaging. Next was facial rollers. A disco light bulb for aesthetics. Even a garlic press even though she hadn’t cooked in months.
Somewhere between the housewares and frozen foods, her brain got cloudy. She stood looking dazed, in front of the canned beans, wondering if she even had milk at home or salt. Like she didn't even own a frying pan.
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But the feeling of freedom was too overwhelming. She pushed through with a loaded cart and strolled to the checkout with a satisfied flip of her long dark braids.
“Your total is seventy-three thousand, two hundred and forty Naira,” the cashier said.
Tonye blinked. “Wait, what?”
“Seventy-three thousand, two—”
“No no, I heard you,” Tonye cut in, fumbling with her wallet. She did well to count her money again. Thirty-five thousand Naira. “What a life!” she exclaimed silently, still trying to maintain her “steeze and composure” (keep calm with pride). Panic and anxiety filled her chest.
“I… uh… I can’t pay that. I’m really sorry,” she muttered, sweat dripping down her forehead even amid functional air conditioners.
The cashier gave her the same look her dad used to give her when she messed up her math homework. Tonye apologized profusely and with the cashier’s reluctant help, she made sure to return every single item to the shelves, one by one.
She left with nothing but a bruised ego.
She wondered how she even got home with those heavy steps. She fell on her bed with her shoes still on, staring at the ceiling like it had the answers she needed. Her stomach growled. She went to the kitchen and of course, it was empty.
“No freaking way,” she whispered.
Then, she did what she never thought she would do.
She pulled out a pen and paper.
Title: “Apartment Needs”
Subcategories: “Kitchen”, “Bathroom”, “Groceries”, “Essentials.”
She wrote:
- Salt
- Rice
- Detergent
- Sponge
- Tissue
- Milk
- Knife
- Frying pan
- Toothpaste
- Trash bags
As she wrote, she realized that none of the things she had tried to buy earlier were on this list.
She gave a very low and long laugh. “Dad, you win,” she whispered to no one in particular.
The next day, she returned to Everyday People Mart with her list in hand, chin held up high, and a strict budget. She moved through the aisles with purpose, trying her best to ignore every item that whispered, “Buy me”. She even calculated the prices as she walked, feeling very proud of herself like she had cracked some mystery code.
She checked out with just under thirty-three thousand Naira. The cashier and Tonye exchanged nods, like two secret agents who understood the gravity of adulting.
She got home, unpacked everything neatly, and cooked her first real meal.
It was just noodles and eggs. But it tasted like victory.