“Kelvin!” she shouted before he could greet her. “Are you planning to marry your laptop?”
Kelvin blinked slowly. “Good morning to you too, Ma.”
“Don’t ‘good morning’ me. You are 34.”
“34 is still young.”
“In America,” she snapped. “In Nigeria, your mates have three children and back pain.”
Kelvin coughed. “Ma, I’m building global investments.”
She leaned closer to the camera. “Investment will not cook soup for you.”
He tried not to laugh. “Ma, I have chefs.”
She wasted as if he had insulted her ancestors. “You want chef to give me grandchildren?”
Kelvin nearly choked on his coffee.
His mother adjusted her wrapper dramatically. “Kelvin, listen carefully. I have found a good girl.”
Kelvin stiffened. “Ma—”
“She is humble.”
Dangerous word.
“She is respectful.”
Very dangerous word.
“She visits me every week.”
Extremely dangerous word.
Kelvin pinched the bridge of his nose. “What is her name?”
“Linda.”
He had heard that name once or twice in passing. Something about the Lagos branch office.
“Ma, I’ve barely spoken to her.”
“That is why I’m speaking for you,” she replied proudly.
Kelvin leaned back in his leather chair overlooking Manhattan. “Ma, I want someone who loves me, not my money.”
She squinted at him suspiciously. Then she said, “Then hide your money.”
Kelvin Froze. “What?”
She waved her hand. “Yes, hide it. Dress like a poor man. See who will follow you.”
He stared at her. “Are you serious?”
“Very serious. Even in the Bible they disguised themselves.”
“Who disguised themselves in the Bible, Ma?”
She paused. “Somebody.”
Kelvin burst into laughter. But she was not joking.
“Come home,” she continued. “Come to Nigeria. Stop sending dollars and come and find a wife with your own two legs.”
He sighed deeply. Business deals he could negotiate. Boardrooms he could dominate. But Nigerian mother pressure—there was no MBA for that.
After the call ended, Kelvin remained seated for a long time. He starred at the skyline of New York City. Women had dated him before, but it always felt like an interview for CEO of his bank account. Luxury dinners, private yachts, subtle hints about joint accounts. He was tired.
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