It’s Another Saturday…#3

The Girl Next Door

They say the best cure for a hangover is more alcohol.

This is my way of the ninja. I catch a cold, I take ice water. I stub my big toe, I punch a door. I sleep with my brother’s psychotic fiancée, I get over the shock by smashing another chick. Not intentionally, though. This encounter just sort of happened. I didn’t go looking for the girl; she came for me and the rest is for the books.

I start the day, as you well know, roughly. Having just discovered that I’ve committed an abomination I become sober and start to reflect on my useless life. I try to pray but I feel God won’t listen, that he has allowed this adversity to fall on me as punishment. I have decided to take it in stride, although I haven’t concluded on what I’ll do with Tola. All I know is that I can’t let Emeka get married to her.

Since Church is out of my schedule for the day, I call my youngest brother, Obasi to come pick me and take me to my place. Oba arrives and waits in the hotel’s parking lot while I make it downstairs. He spares a greeting without looking at my face. I try to make short conversation with him but he tells me not to bother, that I mean nothing to him. He is just twenty-three years old. The last time I saw him, he was eighteen. I tell him I’m sorry for disappearing from his life. He tells me to shove it.

“Oba, I know you’re mad and I want to repeat that I’m sorry.”

“Jide…seriously, stop.” He has one hand on the steering and the other is holding his phone which has his attention.  I’m uncomfortable with it, so I reach for the phone but he snatches it back and eyes me.

“It’s dangerous to text and drive,” I maintain. He ignores me. I reach for the phone again and this time, I pry it off his hand. He wants to retort something nasty but I point ahead of us; an SUV is heading our way. Oba swerves to avoid.

“Just face the road, biko.” I let out a breath. I have a moment of panic; the SUV has sparked images of the event that almost claimed my life five years ago.

“Why did you even come back?” Oba asks. “You should have just remained there. The most annoying part was that we were hearing gist of how you were balling. The chicks, the parties, we heard everything. But you won’t even pick my calls, Jide.”

I look out the window. He wouldn’t understand even if I explained to him. I apologize again. He says nothing further. We drive on without speaking to each other. At some point, I turn to look at him. He has changed from the pimple-faced, hormone-raging teenager I knew. He has cleaned up nicely, with a short crop of punk dreadlocks and a script tattoo on the side of his neck. My parents must have flipped when he came home with that tattoo, my mom especially.

I study his features even more and see what everyone says about us. He is a younger version of me. He has my neatly arched brows, dark solemn eyes, thin lips and even my prominent Adam’s apple. In noses we differ. Mine is slightly flatter than his which is a perfect copy of our mother’s thin and straight nose.

I understand his resentment towards me. I was the cool brother, the one he looked up to for life’s lessons. Then out of nowhere I disappear from his existence with no explanations. Anyone would be mad.

“Turn right.” I give him the directions to my house and he drives me right to my doorstep.

“You live here?”

He takes in my neighborhood with a little frown on his face. The environment is a lot different from the ones we were brought up in.

“Yeah. You want to come in?” I ask as I unfasten my seatbelt.

“No.” He plants himself on his seat and looks away from me. Outside the car kids are playing some game of hurling rubber bands at a line drawn on the ground. Oba concentrates on them instead.

“You want to play FIFA…?” I suggest but my request is met with an emphatic no.

“When is Mex coming back?” I question.

“Tomorrow. With momsi.”

I nod. “Okay. Later.” I get down from the vehicle and watch as he drives off.

“Uncle, good morning!” one of the kids greet. I smile at him. The others chorus his greeting, temporarily stopping their game to watch me. I wave to them and push in the pedestrian gate of the compound I live in.

It’s a big compound, with two buildings. One belongs to my landlord and the other one which is for the tenants, is a three-storey structure with six apartments. I live on the second floor. My house is the one with the cartons and Ghana-must-go bags cluttering the balcony. I’m yet to fix the place up. I hate packing or unpacking. The stress is too much abeg. And that is how, rather than arrange my apartment, I get in, set up my game console and play football while I brood on what to do with Tola.

I come up with no real solution. Time glides by. I don’t realize it is 1pm until someone comes knocking on my door. I open it and there’s this sexy little thing standing there with a stud on her nose.

Did I mention that I like petite girls too?

This one has this ajebutter look and that wildness in her eyes that tells she is willing to try anything.

“Hi.” She’s smiling like we already know each other.

“Good afternoon.” I try to be formal.

“My name is Eleojo. I’m your neighbor. I live upstairs. I just moved in like you.”

“Okay. Your name again?”

“Eleojo. E-L-E-O-J-O. But you can just call me Ele. What’s your name?”

Ha! See me see smally, asking for my name as if we’re mates.

“Jide.”

“Okay. I just stopped by to say hi and to ask… When do you think the landlord will fix the borehole cos I fetched water from the well this morning? And you can imagine me carrying the bucket all the way. Three times! And there aren’t even abokis around to sell water. Do you think it will be fixed by today? I mean, a pumping machine goes for twelve to sixteen thousand. We can all just contribute if he’s broke. What do you think?”

Hian! I’m thinking nothing. How can someone so small talk so fast?

“Erm…he said he’ll fix it by tomorrow, so let’s wait and see.”

“Okay, then. See you later.” She turns away and I stay back to watch her leave. Long, blonde braids that swing left and right drop all the way to a portable bum. The cheerleader skirt she has on doesn’t hide much. I can huff from where I stand and it will blow open and reveal her nudity.

But I don’t dwell on it. She’s Oba’s age mate. I graduated from her type ages ago. Too much stress, these small girls.

As I turn back into the house, the power goes out and my phone rings. Tola is calling. I take the call.

“Hi Jide, I’m ready to meet. Can I come over to yours?”

“No. I’ll text you a place.”

I end the conversation and type out an address to her. After that, I wear a fresh set of clothes and leave the house.

∞            ∞            ∞            ∞            ∞            ∞

Tola doesn’t look all that to me any longer. All I see is this creature from hell that wants to ruin my life and my brother’s. I spare neither smiles nor courtesy when I walk into the restaurant and see her waiting. I pick a chair at her table and order a salad.

“I need answers,” I say. “I need to know why. That Bridemaker explanation you gave me is bullshit. If you’re really pregnant and Mex is misbehaving, you could have just gone to my mom ans she’ll put him straight. Seducing and sleeping with me…”

“Seducing?” she chortles.

“What you did, Tola, is contemptible.”

“Wow. We’re using big words now.” She smiles and crosses her legs, having pushed her chair back a bit. “I should tell you a little about myself since you’re going to be my brother-in-law.”

Not in this life.

“I’m the first daughter of my parents, who are both late. I live with my grandma in the States. I’m a doctor; just graduated from med school. Mex and I have been dating for four years. We’re sort’a in an open relationship. We decided it was best that way until we got married. There were no rules to it and I think that was where the problem was. I never slept with anyone else but I knew Mex was sticking it out with a few girls. I wasn’t bothered. I still loved him. Until he slept with my cousin.”

Senseless move, Mex.

“I got mad, I confronted him, we got in a fight and then he cancelled the engagement and said he wasn’t ready. I was pregnant by then but I didn’t tell him.”

“And so you flew all the way to Nigeria to sleep with me for revenge.”

“No, Jide. I came for my uncle’s wedding and then Kate’s wedding. I was with Kate and Bobby on Tuesday and Bobby was talking about you coming for the wedding. I thought well, best chance to meet you…”

“To have revenge sex.”

“No. I wanted to meet you because I felt you were the only one that could talk to Mex. I saw you at the wedding but couldn’t get to talk to you. You were always with your friends. I went to that after-party just to see you but by the time you walked up to me, the entire plan had changed.”

Tola stopped and sipped from a glass of juice in front of her.

“See, my cousin is a ho. She can’t help herself. And Mex is equally a whore.”

I don’t know this Emeka she speaks of; he sounds different from the brother I know.

“My cousin texted me and told me they had sex again. In our loft. Can you imagine? He was just waiting for me to leave.”

Tola’s features show nothing of her hurt. Not even her eyes. I’m beginning to get scared of her. She reminds me of an ex.

“So when you walked up to me and came up with that dumb opening line, I just sort’a went with the flow. And yeah, the chemistry was there too. On a scale of one to ten, you’re a nine. Mex can’t even come close.”

Is that supposed to be a compliment? This girl is sick.

“I don’t believe a word you just told me, Tola.”

“Like I care. Mex is flying in tomorrow. You can ask him yourself.”

“Oh, I will. Now can I have my things?”

“Jide,” she leans forward, “don’t even think of trying to screw things up for me. Your mom already knows about the baby. She supports our being together. I hear your dad is going to be a problem because he’s tribalistic and all but I’ll handle him…”

“By showing him your tits?”

She looked bored at my question.

“No, really Tola, what do you want from my family? Is it the money? I can give it to you.”

“Money?” she cackles. “My parents didn’t leave us poor. Who do you think owns the hospital you’ll resume work in tomorrow?”

I frown.

“Yeah, put two and two together. My surname is Adeniyi. My father was the late Professor Adeniyi who built the hospital with his friend. I am entitled to half of everything there, so money is not the issue.”

“Then what do you want?”

“A family, Jide. A husband, a home. Is that too much to ask from a guy I gave four years of my life to? You want me to just drop everything we shared like that? Jide, I love Emeka.”

This is the first time I feel her pain. It comes in her voice.

“Plus I’m back to claim what my father left for us but nobody takes a single woman serious around here, so yeah, Mex has to walk me down that aisle fast.”

“Tola, you know I can’t let it happen.”

“Then everyone will know we had sex. Simple!”

I rub the sides of my mouth. I’m not in the mood for the salad anymore as I see it coming on a tray carried by a smiling waitress.

“Here you go, sir.” The waitress places the tray on the table. “Anything else?”

“Nothing, thanks.”

“Ma’am?” she asks Tola. Tola shakes her head. The girl leaves. Tola pushes my debit cards to me.

“You shouldn’t go broke.”

“And the rest of my things?”

She shakes her head.

“There’s a picture in my wallet.”

“This?” Tola pushes a photo of my ex-fiancée towards me. I pick it up and the ATM cards.

“Who is she? The girl in the photo?”

“None of your business.” I pull out some money from my pocket which I leave on the table. I stand up.

“Your salad,” she says.

“Take it. The baby needs it.”

I leave the restaurant. On a cab back home, I dial Mary to text the address to her house. I need someone to talk to.

∞            ∞            ∞            ∞            ∞            ∞

“No, you didn’t!”

Mary can’t believe her ears. She is glaring at me with wide eyes.

“I did.”

“Why nau, Jide?”

I pull my legs up and make myself comfortable on her bed. Her one-room apartment smells so nice and feels so cozy. She loves the color purple and the décor reflects that, with dashes of green to compliment. She has a collage of photos on the wall above her small bed, memories of the best moments in her life. I find myself in more than a few photos and this triggers flashes of our past from school days when I was deceiving myself that I wanted to be a lawyer. I feel special that she still holds those memories close to heart.

I fluff a pillow and rest my head on it, having confessed my sin to her. I toy with the idea of sleeping over since my place is still a mess.

“How are you now going to do?” she asks.

“I don’t know, boo. That’s why I came to you.”

Mary is seated on an Arabian pouf on the floor. She has a serious look on her face and she seems a tad angry too. Her doll eyes have lost their sparkle.

“You’re disappointed in me,” I mumble.

“It doesn’t matter, Jide. I stopped being your moral compass when you disappeared from my life. You coming here and asking my advice on what to do after you’ve screwed up is what I don’t get.”

“You’re my friend.”

“Friend? You left! Friends don’t do that to each other! But you left! Without even as much as a ping! I called, I texted, I emailed! I was at your family house almost every weekend and no one had anything tangible to tell me! So you can’t come here and be asking for my advice like I owe you something! I don’t owe you anything! You don’t hold that place in my life anymore! And stop calling me boo!”

She flings a throw pillow at me and marches to her bathroom, I’m guessing to cry. Wow. She is really mad at me. This girl and her hot temper sef.

I do the gentlemanly thing and go after her, standing outside her bathroom door.

“So all that unnecessary vexing was you simply saying you’re not going to advise me?”

There is silence from her side for a few seconds and then she bursts out laughing.

“Walai, you’re an ass, Jide.”

“Look…I had a lot to deal with and I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to be forgiven. Is that too much to ask?”

“You’re still soooo selfish.”

She opens the door. There are no tears in her eyes, just the sound of the toilet flushing.

“You’re forgiven.” She walks past me and for some reason, I stare at her bum.

“Mary, who’s the alhaji that has been helping you arrange this your onions?”

“Nobody.” She reclaims her Arabian pouf.

“Nobody? As in…?

“No alhaji, no boyfriend, no friends with benefits. None. I’m keeping my body until marriage.” Her face is serious as she says this.

“For real?”

She crosses her legs, lotus style. “I rededicated my life to God, Jide. You should try that. It will save you from all this trouble you’re getting in.”

“Mary, I’m trying. I seriously am. But these girls, they just don’t want me to progress.”

Mary has her lips pressed together tightly and keeps her brows cocked up. She’s unaffected by my explanation.

“Seriously Jide, for how long? While you were away, we were hearing your gist about how you slept around. It was really bad. And now you’re back, you can’t even keep it in for one week? Haba! This same behavior cost you your relationship with Tarela and she almost killed herself.”

“Why are you bringing that crazy bitch into this matter now?”

“Because that crazy bitch was my best friend.”

“That accused you of sleeping with me.”

“She accused everyone of sleeping with you, Jideofor. Tari was in a bad place and it was all your fault.”

This is why I love Mary. She is blunt like that. She doesn’t sugarcoat things. And she knows how to put me straight. She has always been like that to me and my guys, the one person we can always go to for good counsel, our girl next door.

“And you’re going to get yourself in a worse place if you don’t stop. God gave you a second chance to shape up. What’s so hard in doing that?”

“I wish I had an answer to that question. But you don’t think I’m a sex addict, do you? I mean, sex addicts can’t go a day without doing it. Me, I can go for weeks, even months. Okay, maybe not months. But I’m not that bad, am I?”

“Your problem is something only you know its origins and only you can solve. But me I’m telling you to do something about it quickly before it destroys you. Only God knows what you’re hiding behind all that sex you’re having.”

“Maybe a small boy who just wants to be loved.”

“You’re pathetic.”

“So back to the matter.” I sit on the bed. “The Tola chick. What do you suggest I do?”

“Just tell Mex the truth.”

“Like he doesn’t hate me enough already.”

“So you want to lie? One day she’ll let it slip just to spite Mex. It’s best you just tell him, let it all be over and you’ll have your peace. You didn’t know who she was when you had sex, so you’re innocent.”

“Not according to her.”

“I just have a bad vibe about her. And this one that you’re now working in her father’s hospital…”

“I tire.”

Mary sighs. “It is well. Just be truthful and God will see you through.”

I feel somewhat better speaking to Mary. I don’t know if I can follow her advice, though. How do I look my younger brother in the face and tell him I’ve been with his woman? Then imagine the family hearing about it. My mom will be heartbroken, devastated.

“I made fried rice and turkey,” Mary announces.

“And you’ve been sitting there, looking at me, waiting for me to tell you I’m hungry.”

“Sorry, sir.”

She gets on her feet and enters the kitchen. I pick a cosmo mag from a magazine rack by the bedside. It’s the latest issue. I flip through pages quickly.

“Jide you missed church today o.”

I pretend not to hear. “Boo, can I sleep over?”

“No!” she replies immediately.

“Why?”

“Because my bed is small and you sleep anyhow and you snore!”

“I promise to stay one place and not snore.”

“No, Jide! Just go home. I don’t want to be involved in stories that touch the heart.”

I’m not sure I understand what she means.

“Stories that touch the heart? Abeg, explain.”

“Explain what? You’re a guy, I’m a girl, my bed is small…”

I laugh, cutting her short. “Mary, boo, it’s never going to happen. Am I mad? I’d rather sleep with a prostitute than touch you.”

I bring the magazine closer to my face. A page showing different athletic sex positions gets my attention. I’m particularly intrigued by the Ex Sex. I turn the magazine sideways to understand the position better. I’m not certain it would work for me. I flip the page and suddenly get this feeling I’m being watched. I turn. Mary is staring at me with arms crossed and eyes that show I’ve done something wrong.

“What?”

“You’d rather sleep with a prostitute than touch me?”

Oh boy.

“That came out wrong, Mary.”

“So, I’m not attractive enough for you?”

“I didn’t say that. I meant…”

“So that’s why all those years you never hit on me? I was not sexy enough?!”

Wahala!

“Mary…”

She raises her hand to stop me. “And there I was thinking you respected me as a human being.”

“Exactly! I respect you. And that is why I can never hit on you. Come on, boo. You’re hot.”

She really is. Maybe a little chubby but sexy as hell. Sadly, she doesn’t see that just because she doesn’t have the finest of faces. I wish she would stop dressing conservatively and try out flattering and more revealing clothes.

“I would totally come on to you if I didn’t take you as my sister.”

She nods and turns back to the kitchen. My explanation suffices, thank God.

Minutes later she reappears with lunch. I rub my palms together as she places a tray in my hands.

“Enjoy.”

I start to eat. Delicious meal. I tell her that. She smiles. I flatter her some more because I can see she’s still upset over my previous statement. Me and my tongue sef. She tells me to eat and stop twisting her head. I do as she orders but halfway she stops.

“You take me as your sister? Really?”

“Erm…yeah.”

“So you’ll be grossed out if I kissed you now?”

I drop my fork. This girl is ruining my meal. Which kain line of questioning be dis?

“Mary, I respect you as a sister. And as I said, I will totally hit on you if things were different between us.”

“I’m not your sister, Olajideofor. I don’t see you as a brother, either. So yes, things can be different between us. Not that I want them to be. I’m just saying I need to know that I’m sexy enough for you to be attracted to me.”

“I am. Baby, you are beautiful and sexy and you have depth and soul. What man wouldn’t want that?”

“You. Not that I want you to want me. I just want to know that you can want me.”

Without thinking it through, I leave the bed to where she is, put my hands on her neck and pull her into a kiss. She gasps in my mouth but doesn’t fight me. My initial assault soon turns into a gentle dance of our lips that surprises us both and I swear I could go on but something smacks me in the brain and I return to my senses. I pull away.

 

She is dazed but I recover from my madness quickly as I take back my position on her bed.

She covers her mouth with both hands. “Oh God.”

“Yeah, I thought as much. Now, watch the awkwardness that follows that kiss, and tell me if you would want that a hundred times if we shagged.”

Mary is still silent. And she can’t continue her meal either. The awkwardness I just spoke about becomes palpable and I don’t know why. It was a harmless kiss. I put absolutely no emotions to the act. Maybe a little lust but not strong enough to mean anything.

“Are we going to stop talking to each other now?”

She looks at me as if she hasn’t heard me but she replies. “Why? Because of that small kiss?” She picks her plate from the floor and stands. “Abeg, we’re adults.”

I follow her to her tight kitchen with my tray and offer to do the dishes but she won’t let me. We brush over the incident and gist until the clock strikes eight. It is then I call it a night. We hug at the door when I’m about to leave. There’s no more awkwardness between us.

“Thanks for the meal and the advice.”

“It’s nothing.”

I turn away and walk out to dark clouds gathering up in the night sky. By the time I arrive home, it is already pouring heavily. I run into the compound and flex my legs with quick hops up the steps. When I get to the staircase leading to my apartment, I see Ele sitting in the dark, the light of her phone illuminating her pretty face.

“Hey.” I stop to catch my breath. I’m out of shape.

“Hi.” She looks up. “Thank God you’re back. I thought you weren’t coming home this night, still I was waiting.”

I straighten up. “You’ve been waiting for me?”

She nods and stands. I take in her appearance. She has a nightwear on, a cotton t-shirt and shorts to match.

“You won’t believe what happened to me. I was sleeping, enjoying the rain when all of a sudden part of the ceiling gives way and drenches me right on my mattress!”

“The ceiling?”

“Yes! Before I moved in, the useless landlord promised me to fix the leaking roof but clearly, dude did nothing! My whole apartment is like a swimming pool right now! While I was there sleeping, the house was filling with water. I’m so mad! All my clothes, everything is soaked!”

“Sorry about that.” I unlock the door leading to my balcony and we walk in.

“I just want to chill here until the rain stops, then I can go to my friend’s house.”

I invite her in. We click instantly. Maybe it’s because for a twenty-two year old she is quite mature. Maybe it’s the fact that her nipples are straining through her nightie and pushing me to impious thoughts. Maybe it’s just because I dread facing another cold night alone. Whatever it is, the chemistry is undeniable. We talk politics, we analyze the economy (she’s studying marketing), we touch up on movies and finally, we browse the topic of sex. Things begin to heat up but I’m not going to make a move on Ele. I can see she wants me bad. It’s the manner in which she looks at me, the way she inches closer, how she’s not as interested in talking about sex as she is in doing it.

I ask if she wants to drink something. She shakes her head. Her eyes are dirty with desire. She pulls up to me and whispers something in my ear. I almost choke on my own saliva.

Well, I don’t have to tell you what happens next. Just call it a wild night. Ele might be only twenty-two but she is boss. I will never look at petite women the same way again.

Our romp ends as the rain slows. Ele wants to cuddle; I don’t but I oblige her. Soon after she’s asleep. I lay awake going through the different stages of an after-sex frame of mind. Same old empty feelings. Nothing new. Sleep comes after a long phone conversation with Ibro. He wants to take a third wife to please his family. His second wife who is the real love of his life is devastated. She’s also pregnant and full term. She has refused to eat all day or visit the hospital. Ibro wants me to come check her tomorrow morning to make sure she and the baby are fine. I promise to do so. He ends the discussion with a yawn. I yawn as well. The line disconnects and I realize I have a text waiting.

Jide, it reads, I heard you’re back in town. Can we hookup, say tomorrow. I’ve missed you. Tari.

I hiss.

Old things have passed away, I reply. Move on, Tarela.

I switch off my phone and sleep off in no time. But I dream of blood, of a beach on a stormy night and ghosts of girlfriends past. I wake up panting and startle Ele.

“Are you okay?” she inquires. My reply is an arm around her. I tug her close and bury her in my grasp. She thinks I want more of her but the only thing I want is to be rid of these recurrent nightmares. She slips from my arms and goes down on me. I don’t complain. Anything to drive away the demons. I close my eyes and sigh.

This is much better than sleep.

^©Sally@moskedapages

Thank you, Seye for the name “Olajideofor”

Image Credits: Pinterest, Tumblr

ADESUWA

This story was told to me by my mother. I tweaked it a little.

Adesuwa was a dreamer. She visited places in her mind no eye had ever seen. Many times she would sit outside her grandmother’s hut after sundown, and whilst helping out with the evening meal, dream about unknown kingdoms ruled by powerful kings that walked on all fours and ate with their ears. On other occasions, she drifted off into a land where clay pots and wooden plates and spoons came to life and took over the world of men. Alone, she would break into loud, hysterical laughter that sometimes had her rolling on the floor, forgetting that her grandmother, who was always around the corner, was waiting for the slightest reason to smack her back into reality. At such times that she gets into trouble for being herself, Adesuwa would simply apologize, tongue-in-cheek, and force herself to think of earthly things. But reality often eluded her. As much as she moved and breathed and felt the substance of her very existence like everyone else, she could not fully connect with the world around her unless she turned it into a castle in the sky. For instance, the path to the stream where she usually went for her morning baths had to be paved with shiny, transparent pebbles and not the red sand that soiled her feet every day. She also had to have the sky in a particular yellow tinge like the color of ripening plantain. And whenever she thought of the trees, she saw them like kings of old whom she was told came from the sky; so the trees would stretch high up to the heavens and follow her wherever she went, guiding her to the stream and back.
“I have to marry you off soon before I lose you to the world of the spirits,” her grandmother often said. “Because I believe that your spirit husband visits you on your trips to the river. Or is it not he who tells you such tall tales?”
In reply, Adesuwa would shake her head, laugh and disappear into another daydream. So taken she was by the immaterial world that she lost the will to stop herself from falling whenever her fantasies came calling.
One evening when her grandmother had called her six times and she had not responded, the old woman threw a basket at her and screamed loudly. “Adesuwa!”
“Iye!” the girl jumped from her stool and stood in a corner, away from range and scratched her elbow like one just waking from sleep.
“I keep counting the days to when your human husband comes to take you away. It is sad that you are only nine years old or you would have been in his house already and given him five children. Then that spirit would leave you alone and find something younger to play with.”
“But Iye, I don’t want to get married.”
“May the gods curse me if you are not in your husband’s house by this time next year!”
That night, Adesuwa was sent off to sleep with no meal. She cried herself into a kingdom where her late parents held both her hands and walked her down a road flanked by tall, raffia mats and broken pottery that floated in the air. Her father and mother, like kings of the sky had no feet, so they glided above the earth until they led her to a beautiful hut that rose up to the clouds. It was not made of clay but with clear, blue water that bubbled terrifyingly and never spilled to the ground. Within the hut her evening meal was brought to her and she was served by the three idols that usually stood facing the Oba’s palace. While Adesuwa ate, the walls sang a melodious tune that her parents danced to. And uninvited, the trees came in through the door and joined in the celebration and they all danced and sang and ate as the idols fed them until darkness filled the clouds above. As her parents stood by the door to wave goodbye to her, everything around her disappeared and something jerked her back into reality. Adesuwa opened her eyes to the image of her grandmother, standing over her head, frowning heavily at her.
“It is morning already. Get out of that dream and get dressed; we’re going to the farm today.”
Adesuwa stirred from her mat and had a peep of the outside and discovered it was still dark. Scratching her body and yawning, she found her way out of the hut and prepared for the day.
************
The journey to the farm was a long one and Adesuwa had tried to make light conversation with her grandmother but had been shut down rudely. She ventured into her dream state and got lost there for a while but returned when a screaming, smallish woman, came running towards them.
“Iye! Iye!” the woman caught up with them. She stopped and tried to catch her breath. “It is time! Izogie’s baby is on the way!”
“Izogie? So Izogie is pregnant?”
“Yes!”
“May God wash my eyes! Indeed I am old. I thought she had too much to eat these past few days. How was I to know she still had the strength and heart to carry another child? Oh, that woman has been to see the creator and back. To lose your three daughters in one day and still will yourself to dream of another child? If it were me, I would have died!” The old woman shook her head and the small woman sighed, albeit impatiently. Yet she endured another talk. “I lost my only daughter and I prayed for death but I am grateful that Adesuwa was put here as my consolation. Who knows how I would have lived through this life if she wasn’t here? Hmm…the times are indeed terrible. I do hope Izogie can push out that baby.”
“Iye, that is why I am here to get you. She said she cannot be delivered of that child unless you are there.”
“But why?”
“Because you helped her with her three daughters in the past. She says you made her feel like she was only passing out bananas.”
The old woman laughed, covering her mouth, but Adesuwa could see the dark space that marked her missing teeth.
“Oh. I am honored, my daughter, and for that, I will follow you. Adesuwa, my child, it is already daylight. Head on to the farm and wait for me until I return. I won’t be long, my little mother.”
“But Iye…”
“Just go on and if anyone disturbs you, summon your spirit husband,” she said with a naughty laugh but the nine-year old stared back with a frown. “Go on.” The old woman pushed her granddaughter and turned back to the village, talking loudly with the other woman. Adesuwa stood and watched until they disappeared, then she let her eyes search around her. It was hardly the season for planting or harvesting or she would have found easy companion to the farm area; but because they had hit hard times and her grandmother’s hands were not so steady to mold pots again, they were forced to occasionally visit the farm to find whatever they had forgotten to glean during the harvest season.
Adesuwa continued her journey reluctantly and consoled herself with the horizon which held the promise of an early rising sun. Again she tried to dream but found disturbing thoughts of hunger and abandonment lurking in her mind, so she dipped into her grandmother’s sack and found a full bunch of bananas. She plucked out one and proceeded to devour it. When she was done, her stomach growled loudly for more and she picked another. Standing in the trail, she temporarily forgot herself and consumed the second banana. Her stomach growled yet again and she pulled out the entire bunch, found a stone just beside her and sat to a full breakfast. She ate banana after banana and did not realize she was full until an unfriendly retch forced her full mouth open, making her spit out the contents within. She covered the vomit with red sand and burped loudly. The sun was already toying with the east and Adesuwa smiled. People going to the market would surely be passing by her way. She had a plan to follow a particular kindhearted woman to her stall where she would fake a certain stomach illness which her grandmother was familiar with. That would be her reason for not making it to the farm. Content with the idea, Adesuwa drank some water from the gourd that hung by her waist and waited.
Now, while she waited…
She drifted. Not on her own accord but like she usually did. And her mind was carried away to some thought brought on by the conversation her grandmother had with the small woman about women and their children.
“So, one day,” Adesuwa thought, “I will grow up and get married, even though I don’t want to. I know Iye will force me to marry that boy that lives two huts away, the one with the crooked legs and the big head. We will marry and live in our own hut and one day, I will become pregnant and carry around a big stomach like that sad woman, Izogie. And the stomach will grow and grow until I cannot stand it anymore and have to stool out that baby. Then I have a girl like me and I will name her Amenze because she will be like a calm river. Amenze will learn to sit and stand and crawl and one day, she will walk. Then she will grow teeth and start to eat and talk and dance. After a while, she will learn to run and play with her friends and soon enough, join me in making pots and baskets!” Adesuwa laughed out loud, clapping her hands. “It’s good to be a mother oh! At that time, I will not be doing anything again. I will often say ‘Amen, go there and do this or bring that to me’” She clapped again, her laugh ringing out louder.
“Amenze will follow me everywhere I go. To the market, to the women’s meetings, to the stream…everywhere! And I will put on for her those expensive beads mother left for me… and teach her how to dance like mother taught me and call her all the names mother called me…”
Adesuwa paused her in her daydream, remembering her late mother as overwhelming sadness took over her.
“Then one day… one day, I will say to her ‘Amen, please stay home while I go to the farm with Iye to harvest some yams. I have put two stones in that pot on fire. Watch them for me. The moment they boil and become soft, I will return’. And Amen will nod and begin to watch the pot. She will watch it from morning till sundown but I will not return. She will watch it some more but she will not see me. Then Iye will come walking into the compound, tears in her eyes and people following her and she will tell Amenze that I was working very hard in the farm but my hands became tired and my eyelids became heavy, so I stopped to rest under a tree but when I closed my eyes, the spirits came and took me away to their world.
“At first, Amen will not understand anything Iye says but when she looks at the people crying and how many times they have to hold Iye from falling down, she will come to know that she will not see me again. And then she will start to cry. She will cry and cry and cry…”
At that point Adesuwa was in full tears, her voice breaking with every thought of her imagined death. She put her hands to her head and wailed terribly. “Ah! Amenze! You will not see me again oh! I will die and never come back! I will go to the land of your grandmother and I will not come back oh! Hey! Amenze! My Amen! Why will you suffer like this?!”
She beat her chest severally and shook her head as her cries overwhelmed her. “This world is indeed a terrible place.”
“Adesuwa!” a familiar voice called and Adesuwa turned. It was the kind woman whom she planned on following to the market. “What is the matter, my daughter?”
Adesuwa shook her head and hugged her.
“What is it, Adesuwa? Why do you cry like this? Is everything good?”
Adesuwa shook her head again.
“Where is your grandmother? Is she well? Is she alive? Did she die? Did somebody die? Ehn? Talk to me? Did anyone die, my daughter?”
Adesuwa nodded and the woman clapped her hand dramatically after she put down the basket she was carrying on her head.
“It has happened! Hey! Osanobua!” she placed her hands on her head. “I said it! This village and their witches will be the end of us! Hey! Hey! Heywoooo” Tears quickly filled her eyes and she broke into heavy sobs. “Osanobua o! Iye mi o!” She pulled Adesuwa to her and looked into her eyes. “Small child like you, going through all this suffering….” She shook her head and held her to her breasts and cried out again. “Osanobuuuwaaa!”
“Iye, what is the matter?”
“Ehn?” The woman turned to see her eldest daughter, Esohe, standing behind her.
“Why are you crying?”
“Oh, my daughter. The worst has happened. It has happened oh. This little child has been left alone in this world with no one to care for her.”
“Oh!” her daughter beat her chest and also dropped the basket on her head to the ground.
“When I used to tell everyone that the witches in this village are too much, no one listened to me. Now, can’t we see their handwork? Can’t we see?”
And Esohe joined her mother and Adesuwa in weeping. From afar, their voices were heard and the women who were on their way to the market hurried towards them.
“What is the matter?”
“Who died?”
“Why were you crying?”
The questions poured and by some means, Esohe and her mother amidst their tears, related to them that Adesuwa’s grandmother had passed on. A chorus of cries broke the peace of dawn as the women dropped their wares and began to mourn. In no time, a sizable crowd consisting of not only women but men and children blocked the path leading to the farms and market and a full grief procession was formed that found its way back to the village. As they walked, many of the women remembered the old woman, how she had helped them birth their babies, how hard working she always was, how kind she had been to all her neighbors. How could she have died like that? They asked themselves. Didn’t they see her just yesterday? Chests were beaten and heads held and mouths thrown wide open to wail but nobody asked Adesuwa how her grandmother had died; the company of mourners just merely trekked on with their loud wailing until they neared the entrance to the village. So loud was their noise that late stirrers were forced out of their deep sleep and drawn out to them.
By now, more than half of the village had gathered and no one noticed Adesuwa who was presently quiet and watching the whole scene with a bit of apprehension in her face. She had tried at some point to explain to them why she was crying but they thought she was rambling out of her pain; and even now as she sighted her grandmother from afar and tried to draw their attention to her, no one listened. Quietly she withdrew to a corner, resting her back on a guava tree run down by parasites and watching as her grandmother approached the bawling crowd.
“Osanobua!” a voice rang out. “Is that not a ghost?!”
Everyone turned in the direction of the woman who drew their attention and they all followed her pointed finger aimed at Adesuwa’s grandmother and instant chaos broke into the crowd. A sizable number of them, mostly women and all the children, took to their heels and ran from the ghost’s presence.
“What is happening?” the poor, old woman asked. “Who has died? Why is everyone in tears?” Confused, the old woman asked but no one seemed to have any answer for her. It was at this juncture that Adesuwa gathered the sack in her hand, tighten the gourd around her waist and proceeded down the path that led back to the farm. As she faced the rising sun in the east, she mused at how a seemingly innocent dream had stirred the whole village into disorder. She felt a pang of remorse at her actions but she told herself it was not her fault; no one really wanted to listen to her. She pondered on the punishment she was bound to receive from her grandmother later on and winced at the thought of the anticipated pain, preparing herself mentally for it. But as she trudged on and marveled at the tall trees on both sides of the path, her mind was carried off again, without her own doing, to her place of utopia. In the distance, she saw the kings that walked on all fours and ate with their ears. The ground beneath suddenly turned to smooth, shiny transparent pebbles that reflected the yellow sky above. Nodding contentedly, Adesuwa reached out both hands as if to touch the tall trees that walked and talked with her on both sides but her hands surprisingly fell into the hands of her parents.
“Erha?” she called her father and he smiled. “Iye?” and her mother nodded.
Adesuwa smiled back at them and continued her journey to the farm, already forgetting the chaos she had caused and leaving the world of reality behind her.

For Better For Worse [Evelyn] by Sally

FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE

EVELYN

1980

Jamila rushed towards the sound of the piercing scream. It was coming from one of the suites in the family wing of the presidential villa. As she approached the hallway, she realized the screaming was coming from Evelyn’s suite.

“Eveyln!” she called and burst in. She found her, now quiet, sitting on her bed with a haunted expression on her face. She walked to her slowly “Ev?”

Evelyn did not respond. Her eyes were transfixed on the wall before her, glaring at a painting of her husband she had paid some nameless artist in Namibia to do. Igwe had been very angry when the painting arrived at the villa and ordered it be taken down from where it had been placed by the paintings of other family members and burnt. Then he had a row with Jamila who was against the decision and eventually granted her request of having it put in Evelyn’s suite instead. Now as Jamila turned to the painting, following Evelyn’s eyes, she saw what Igwe had told her he had seen. Samuel’s eyes were dark and hollow but there was something else… They looked like he was right there in the room with them, staring back. How the artist was able to capture his soul in those eyes puzzled Jamila a great deal.

“Ev, what is it?” Jamila asked. Evelyn simply lifted her hand and pointed at the painting, her lips moving but making no sound. She was terrified.

“Sam?” Jamila sat beside her, “you dreamt of him again?”

Evelyn had been having nightmares for the past few weeks of Samuel disemboweling and eating up her insides. But today’s dream had been different, it had been worse and she had no desire to share it with the psychologist sitting before her. She slowly let down her hand and drew away till her back rested on the pillows behind her.

“Do you want to talk about the dream?” Jamila asked and Evelyn shook her head. “Does it have anything to do with the painting?”

She looked at the painting briefly. “No.”

“Did you dream about Sam?”

“No,” Evelyn replied again and looked at Jamila. “I want to go back to sleep, please.”

“I am afraid you have slept all day, woman,” she said lightly.”I know the doctor says you should rest but too much of it is not good for you. Why don’t you come out and join us? Tricia and Emem are trying their hands on chin-chin. I am about to put the boys to sleep. Maybe you can help me?”

Evelyn sighed and let her sister-in-law help her out of the bed. Being nine months pregnant was a load she was tired of carrying. She just wanted it out of her.

In the kitchen Evelyn exchanged pleasantries with the ten or so females who were preparing for a wedding. The bride was one of those Igwe’s half-caste children from one of those white women no one knew anything about. There were all sorts of mouth watering pastries and Evelyn was very sure no guest would taste any of what was prepared here. It was all for family.

Evelyn found her way to Patricia and spoke in a low voice. “Can I speak with you?”

The whole kitchen went silent. Noticing the attention on them, Patricia said sarcastically to them, “I believe there’s something interesting to see here?”

And everyone turned back to what it was they were doing .

“Please, it’s very important,” Evelyn said and when she noticed Patricia was going to be difficult, added, “it has to do with Aaron.”

Patricia put down the rolling pin in her hand at the mention of her six year old son. And speaking of the little devil, the boy ran in chased by Emem’s twin sons and the trio knocked down a tray of chin-chin dough and would have continued had Emem not slammed the table before her angrily. One look into her eyes sent them scrambling off. No one needed to say anything more; Emem was the only law the kids feared.

While all this was going on, Evelyn had led Patricia into an unoccupied bedroom and shut the door.

“I had that dream again.”

“What dream? The one with Sam killing and eating you?” her eyes held a hidden smile.

“Yes,” Evelyn replied.

“So,” Patricia crossed her arms, “what has it got to do with my son?”

The ‘my’ was emphasized because Aaron spent more time with Evelyn than with her.

“I saw Aaron in the dream, Tricia, and he was eating me too.”

Patricia walked to the door, opened it, peeped up and down the hallway and locked it again. She turned around and walked back menacingly to Evelyn.

“You walked into my life, stole my husband and sons, warmed your way into the family and now you’re coming to tell me my son is evil?”

“Tricia, let me explain…”

“Look, I don’t know who sent you to tempt me into saying what will make them put me in a madhouse again but I will not fall for the trap.”

“Tricia, I am serious. That dream was too real.”

“If you’re so afraid, I’ll suggest you go to a pastor for prayers. You’re nine months pregnant. You don’t want to lose this one. It will be five miscarriages too many. I would also advise you stay away from the cause of the curse and banish those dreams and think of a way to ensure the safe delivery of your daughter.”

“Daughter? H-how do you know it’s a girl?”

Everyone said Patricia was insane but only Evelyn knew there was method to her madness. It was something spiritual and if she was saying right now that she was carrying a girl, then a girl it was.

“You will never have a son for Sam and this would be your last,” Patricia said pointedly and headed for the door but Evelyn stopped her.

“Please, I know you know what the dream means. Please, tell me.”

Patricia turned back. “When you get back home, there’s a door that Samuel never opens in the guest house…”

Evelyn found herself standing before a red door. She had never cared to open it before because she hardly came to this part of the compound. The main house she shared with Samuel and her stepsons was large enough to entertain her.

Samuel takes the key around with him but only leaves it when he wants to have his bath.

Evelyn opened her hand revealing a copy of the said key and slowly inserted it into the keyhole.

What is in the room?

I don’t know. I never found out. Samuel caught me that day, beat me half to death and that was how the story about me being crazy began.

Evelyn paused before she turned the key. What if she wasn’t supposed to see what was inside?

There are things you will never know about Samuel and no one will tell you. I wished, my dear,  you hadn’t married him altogether.

Those were Igwe’s words coming back to haunt her. Samuel had assured her that the man was talking that way because he hated him but what could he have possibly done that would make his own father hate, disown and vow never to see his face again?

She turned the key, drew in a long breath and opened the door…

Bright morning sunlight streamed into her face from a window facing her. She immediately looked away and adjusted her vision to search around her as she walked in.

The room was…empty.

She sighed in relief. Samuel was hiding nothing. Patricia was really crazy but then, why the key and the whole secrecy behind the red door? She shrugged, walked out and locked the door. Then she heard it…

A scream so loud it threatened to split her eardrums and it was coming from within the room. Instant gossebumps spread all over her and she braced herself and unlocked the door again. She pushed it open  cautiously and behold…

Nothing!

Evelyn looked up at the ceiling and peered at the window and still didn’t see any sign of life within. For some reason, she didn’t want to walk back in again and as much as it was daylight, she felt darkness all around her and just wanted to get out of the place.

She locked the door and stood staring at it, waiting for something strange to happen again just to confirm she didn’t imagine the first phenomenon.

Seconds were rolling by…

1          2          3          4          5          6          7          8          9          10        11        12…

And the scream came again. Accompanying it this time was a scratching sound as if someone was trying to escape from the room. Evelyn blocked her ears but couldn’t drown the torture in them. She began to back away as the sounds became unseen hands that slowly stretched to touch her and out of nowhere cold hands coming from behind her gripped her shoulders and she let out a horrified scream.

“Eve?” only one person called her that name and it was Samuel. She turned around and held him tight, melting gratefully into his arms. He waited for her shivering to subside before asking, “what is wrong?”

“Nothing,” she lied and without saying anything further, he took her back to the main house. It was like that between them. They didn’t talk about things, they just let them be. Upstairs, he checked her vitals, gave her a cup of warm milk with some sleeping pills and tucked her in. In seconds, she was drifting away and images began to form in her mind…

A girl- not more than eighteen- spread out on a table- wearing a yellow dress like the sun- immensely terrified- trying to free herself from the straps holding her bound- something hideous is approaching her- it has gloves on- it sinks a needle into her neck-  she becomes weak- it raises a knife into the air- the girl just stares, tears streaming down her eyes- the creature chants something for a long time- in one swift motion it brings down the knife to her heart- laughs- plunges it deep into her- the girl opens her mouth wide–

And Evelyn screams.

The thing with the knife raises its head- looks at her- it is her husband’s evil eyes- she then realizes she is standing- out in the cold- naked and shivering–

“Close the door,” the creature says in Sam’s voice- Evelyn looks and sees- Aaron is looking up at her- his eyes like his father’s- he smiles a wild smile- and slams the red door in her face.

similar post –>for better for worse [Emem]