A Night with Mr Bryan

Celina's POV

The steam from the banga soup curled up in the small kitchen, thick with the rich aroma of palm nuts and spices. My mother sat across from me, wielding her spoon like it was a magic wand.

“Celina, look at this starch stretching,” she laughed, lifting the sticky yellow mass so high it nearly brushed the ceiling fan.

I burst into laughter, almost choking on my soup. “Mummy, please put that thing down before it wraps around your neck like a scarf. Do you want me to start writing obituary speeches today?”

She gasped in mock offense and smacked her lips. “This girl! Your mouth is too sharp. And don’t think I didn’t notice you sneaking extra starch from the pot. Yours will finish first.”

“Mummy, that’s called survival of the fittest,” I said, thumping my chest like a wrestler. “And I must survive this war.”

We both broke into uncontrollable laughter, tears forming at the corners of our eyes. My stomach hurt, but the food was too good to stop. That was the thing about evenings with my mother, no matter how rough life outside was, within these four walls there was always laughter, always warmth, always us.

“Mummy,” I said between bites, “if anyone walked in right now, they’d think we’d gone mad. Who laughs over soup like it’s a comedy show?”

She grinned, wiping her hands on her wrapper. “Let them think, what they like. At least our madness is sweet. And banga soup cures every sorrow.”

I leaned forward, lowering my voice dramatically. “True. Even heartbreak.”

“Ha!” She dropped her spoon as if she’d heard scandal. “Don’t tell me one small boy has broken your heart again.”

“Mummy!” I groaned, pressing my forehead against the table. “It’s not like that. But even if it was, I wouldn’t tell you. You’d only laugh at me.”

She shook her head, pretending to scold. “Don’t worry, when it’s time, God will give you the right man. Not these useless boys who can’t even buy their girlfriends a rose.”

“Mummy, you’ve started again.” I laughed so hard that my cheeks ached.

Then her expression softened, turning serious. She set her spoon down and looked at me carefully. “What about your boyfriend? The one who sometimes gets me medicine when I need it?”

I hesitated, pushing a piece of starch around in my bowl. “Mum… he keeps asking for something I’m not ready to give.”

Her eyes narrowed knowingly. “You mean sex?”

I swallowed, my voice dropping. “Yes. But I’m not ready for that. Not with him.”

She reached across the table, squeezing my hand. “That’s fine, my daughter. You don’t owe anyone that. Take your time. I support you.”

Just as we were about to dive into another round of teasing, a sharp knock echoed through the door.

My mother raised her brow. “Are you expecting someone?”

I frowned, licking palm oil from my fingers. “No, Mummy. Who even knows me in this area? But let me check.”

Dragging my wrapper higher, I shuffled to the door, half-expecting a neighbor asking for salt. But when I pulled it open, two stern-looking men in uniform stood there, their faces carved like stone.

“Good evening,” one of them said, his voice clipped. “We’re looking for Mrs. Williams.”

For a moment, I froze. My throat went dry. “Mrs… uh… Mrs–” The words tangled on my tongue, refusing to come out.

“Step aside, young lady,” the second officer ordered, pushing past me with firm authority.

“Mummy!” I called, panic surging through me.

My mother had already risen from her seat, confusion written all over her face. “Yes, I’m Mrs. Williams. What is this about?”

“Ma, you are under arrest,” the first officer announced.

The room spun. “Arrest? For what?!” I cried, rushing toward her.

The officers moved with frightening speed. Before I could react, her wrists were twisted behind her back and locked in cold steel cuffs.

“Mummy!” I screamed, tugging at one of the men. “She hasn’t done anything! At least tell us why!”

The officer’s eyes hardened. “She will be informed at the station. Don’t obstruct us.”

Tears blurred my vision. My mother’s gaze met mine–calm on the surface, but trembling underneath. “Celina, don’t worry. Everything will be fine. Take care of yourself.”

“No, Mummy! Please, she didn’t do anything!” My voice cracked, but they dragged her out like she was a criminal.

I stumbled after them, shouting, begging, but they shoved her into their van and drove away. Just like that, my whole world collapsed.

I slumped to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. The room felt suddenly empty, her laughter still echoing in the corners.

The door creaked again. My best friend, Myra, stepped in, her eyes widening at the chaos.

“Celina! What happened? Why are you crying like this?” she asked, rushing to me.

I clung to her like a lifeline. “They… they took my mum.”

“Who?”

“The police! They just came, called her name, and… and they arrested her!” My words broke apart between sobs.

Myra pulled me close, rubbing my back. “Oh my God. Bestie, breathe. I’m here. We’ll figure this out.”

I shook against her, clutching her shirt. “But she hasn’t done anything, Myra. You know my mum. She can’t even kill a mosquito, let alone commit a crime.”

“I know, bestie. I know,” she whispered, rocking me gently.

Then she tapped my forehead with a weak smile. “Remember our best-friend code? Rule number one: no crying alone. If you cry, I cry.” She sniffled dramatically, wiping fake tears from her eyes.

Despite myself, a weak laugh escaped. “You’re crazy.”

“And rule number two,” she added, “when the world comes for one of us, we show up like Avengers. So relax, we’ll handle this.”

Her words steadied me a little, though my chest still ached. We sat on the floor, holding on to each other, hearts pounding with fear of the unknown.

Then my phone rang.

The shrill sound cut through the silence like a knife. I jumped, my heart slamming against my ribs. For a second, I couldn’t even move. The phone kept buzzing on the table, its screen lighting up the dim room, but my hands stayed frozen in my lap.

“Bestie, answer it,” Myra urged softly.

“I… I don’t know if I can.” My throat was so tight it hurt. What if it was the police again? What if they were calling to say something had happened to my mother? My palms went slick with sweat, and the longer the phone rang, the louder it seemed, like a ticking clock running out of time.

“Celina,” Myra pressed, gripping my arm, “just pick it. We’ll face it together.”

I nodded weakly, forcing my trembling hand forward. The phone nearly slipped from my fingers as I swiped to answer.

“Hello?” My voice cracked.

A cold female voice sliced through the line. “If you want your mother out of that cell, you’ll come to me. Two minutes. No excuses.”

My blood turned to ice. “What? Who is this?”

The line went dead.

I looked up at Myra, my hands shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone. “Did you hear that?”

She nodded, her face pale. “Bestie… who was that?”

We just stared at each other, breathless, knowing deep down that whatever had just begun was bigger than both of us.