When duty meets heart

The phone call

Adaeze's mother called every Sunday at 8 PM.

Not 7:55. Not 8:10. Eight o'clock exactly, as though her mother had spent the entire week building up to that precise moment and intended to make full use of it.

Adaeze was still in the lab when the call came. She had lost track of time — which happened sometimes when the work was interesting, and lately the work had been very interesting. The outbreak data she and Emeka had been cross-referencing was throwing up patterns she hadn't noticed before. Patterns that were, frankly, unsettling.

She stepped into the corridor to answer.

"Adaeze."

"Good evening, Mummy."

"You sound tired."

"I'm at work."

"On a Sunday." It wasn't a question. It was an indictment.

"There's an ongoing project—"

"There is always an ongoing project." Her mother's voice carried the particular weight of a woman who had been patient for a very long time and was nearing the end of it. "Adaeze, Auntie Ngozi's son just returned from Canada. He's an engineer. Very responsible. She says—"

"Mummy."

"I'm just saying."

"I know what you're saying."

A pause. In the background Adaeze could hear the television — her father's evening news. The familiar sounds of home, warm and distant at the same time.

"Are you eating?" her mother asked, shifting tactics smoothly.

"Yes."

"Properly? Not that nonsense you call food during the week—"

"Mummy, I eat properly."

"You work too hard."

"I know."

"It will not keep you warm at night, Adaeze."

Adaeze closed her eyes briefly. "Goodnight, Mummy."

"Greet your colleagues for me. Especially any responsible ones."

She ended the call.

When she turned around, Emeka was standing three feet away, clearly having just come around the corridor. He stopped when he saw her expression.

"Bad time?" he asked.

"My mother."

Something shifted in his face. Not quite sympathy. More like recognition. "Ah."

"She wants me to meet an engineer from Canada."

"Is he qualified?"

Adaeze blinked. "Sorry?"

"The engineer." His expression was completely serious. "Is he actually qualified or is he just someone's son who spent three years abroad and came back with an accent?"

A laugh escaped her before she could stop it. Short and surprised — the kind that comes out before you give it permission.

Emeka looked at her. And this time there was no question about it. That was definitely almost a smile.

"Come," he said, turning back toward the lab. "I found something in the Q3 data you need to see."

Adaeze followed him.

She told herself it was because of the data.

It was, mostly, because of the data.