But despite how annoyed my uncle was, he knew that what had taken place would not leave the four walls of the dingy bar. There were rooms upstairs that he no doubt intended to make use of, but that was not my business. My uncle was a good husband – he gave his wife whatever she asked for and he had not hassled her over her failure to give him a child. If he needed to relieve the stress every now and again, who was I to judge?
Chapter Six
‘Bambi, I thought he had put all that nonsense behind him. Why are men like this?’ asked Aunty Bidemi.
Did she expect me to speak for all men, or just for Uncle Folu? This was not the time to deliver my speech about how it was unnatural to expect a man to love just one woman. Instead, I tried to think of something comforting to say. She was leaning forward on the edge of my chair. The air conditioner had begun to cool her. She was sweating less.
‘Well …’
‘Am I not attractive again?’
She was no spring chicken. But she still had some charming features – her smile for one, and her skin was pillow soft. She may have had one fat fold too many, but the baby weight was probably to blame for that.
‘If I was your age, I would be lucky to have you,’ I told her.
She sighed and the heaviness of her breath caused her breasts to jiggle. She had always had a mother’s bosom.
‘So long as a man has money, a man does not age. Not like a woman.’
I reached out and patted her on the shoulder. ‘Uncle Folu loved you. Whatever he did with Esohe, it was not serious.’ But she shook off my hand.
‘What kind of love is that? Do you know she cannot even make his favourite soup? Folu used to complain and complain until I learnt how to make egusi soup the way he liked it. And this girl just …’
Her voice cracked.
‘Why is she here, Aunty Bidemi?’
Aunty Bidemi breathed another heavy jiggly sigh. ‘She was pregnant and had nowhere to go.’
‘Esohe was pregnant?!’ My voice came out a little high pitched. I coughed to clear my throat. I must have misheard.
‘Yes, she was. But she lost the baby, poor girl. And before I could ask her to please leave, the lockdown started.’
‘Hmmm.’ I tried to take in this news. How many months was it since the last time I saw Esohe? Surely, she would have told me if—
‘Are you OK?’
‘Huh? Oh, yeah. It’s just the heat.’ I fanned myself with my hand to back up my story.
Aunty Bidemi stood up.
‘I’ll let you eat in peace.’
I’m not certain I replied to her.
Chapter Seven
I needed a shower. I went to my car to collect my things and then headed to the bathroom, wrapped in my towel, and carrying my wash bag. It looked like it had been a while since the bathroom had been cleaned. I could see marks in the sink and on the floor.
There was a black bucket sitting in the bathtub waiting to be filled with water, so I could have an old-school shower. I turned on the tap and waited for the bucket to fill. I had poured the first bowl of water on my body, when I heard a scream.
I grabbed my towel and dashed out of the bathroom. The women were shouting and I followed the sound to Aunty Bidemi’s room. I twisted the handle. The door didn’t give way immediately. Sometimes you had to wrestle with doors in the old house. I used my shoulder.
They were like two snakes entangled on the floor, tearing at each other’s clothing on the wine-red sheepskin carpet. A blue ceramic bowl was in pieces, with peeled oranges scattered along with it. The baby was on the edge of the bed crying, his nappy half open. I controlled my anger and went straight to the baby, stepping over the fighting women and lifting him into my arms. I freed up a hand and grabbed Esohe’s arm, dragging her off my aunt. The towel slipped and I let her go just in time to prevent it from exposing me completely.
‘What the hell is going on here?’ I shouted.
They looked up at me, as though surprised to see me there. Aunty Bidemi’s wig had been knocked off and could have been mistaken for a bush rat on the floor. I repeated my question, slowly.
Esohe stood. She was a couple of inches taller than me, so I was forced to lift my head up to meet her eyes. There was a nasty gash on her arm, but she didn’t appear to notice that she was bleeding. She pointed at the angry, wailing baby in my arms.
‘That is my baby!’
‘You are crazy,’ spat Aunty Bidemi. She crawled to the bed and hoisted herself up. ‘And I want you out! I want you out now!’
Esohe made a grab for a shard of the broken bowl and pointed it at Aunty Bidemi, forcing the older woman to stumble back. I put myself between them.
‘If you attack my aunt, you will have me to deal with.’ Esohe didn’t try to call my bluff. She lowered her weapon. She was breathing heavily. Her blonde braids were sticking to her dark skin.
‘He is my baby,’ she repeated.
She opened her arms, as though she expected me to just hand the baby over to her. I held him a little more tightly. It was like holding a pillow.
‘I’m sorry that you lost your baby, Esohe, I’m sure it was very—’
‘Are you mad? I did not lose my baby. Is that what she told you?’ Her voice was getting louder and louder. Aunty Bidemi stepped out from behind me.
‘The girl is unstable. Give me the baby.’ I nearly handed him over, but she looked more unwell than the woman she was accusing. Her wig was lying trampled on the ground and I could see the messy cornrows on her head, dotted with dandruff. Her mascara had run down her face, so she looked like she was crying black goo. And I could not escape the fact that both women had chosen their petty fight over the safety of the baby.
Besides, he had gone quiet. There was no real reason to hand him over. As if he agreed, he grabbed hold of my finger.
‘She is the one with a dead baby!’ Esohe hissed.
‘Are you calling my aunty a liar?’
‘So, I’m the one that is a liar?’
‘Don’t talk to her, Bambi. Just hand the baby over.’ Aunty Bidemi reached for him.
‘No! No!’ Esohe screamed. ‘He is my baby!’
The baby began to cry again. I resisted the urge to throw Esohe out of the room and lock the door.
‘Calm down! Look, this isn’t 1000 BC. You can’t just claim a baby. There are DNA tests now.’
‘Fine. Let’s do a DNR test.’
‘DNA.’
‘Whatever. Let’s do it.’
This was an interesting turn of events. I turned to Aunty Bidemi. She shrugged and folded her arms.
‘That’s fine with me. Let’s do it.’
Esohe had a pretty fine poker face for someone who was clearly bluffing. I didn’t really want to waste anybody’s time by asking for a DNA test, but perhaps that was the only way to solve the problem.
‘OK … I’ll call a few hospitals and get back to you.’
‘No oh. You must make the calls in front of me so I know there is no funny business.’
‘Fine. Let’s meet in the living room in ten minutes. I need to put on some clothes and get my phone.’ I walked out of the room, taking the baby with me before either of them had a chance to protest. By the time we got to my room, he had fallen asleep.
Chapter Eight
The baby and I were both pretty much butt naked, so I placed him on the bed and covered him up to his neck with a blazer, before dressing myself with boxers, a vest and sweat pants. I sat on the bed next to him. He was so small. His skin was a deep brown, except for a yellow birthmark on his stomach. I touched the soft curls growing on his head.
Happy that I had enough clothes on, I unplugged my phone from the charger, picked him up again and headed to the living room. Luckily, Aunty Bidemi was there with a nappy and a babygrow. I gave him to her and she wiped his bottom, powdered his bum, and snapped on his nappy as though she were some kind of ninja.
Esohe walked in and narrowed her eyes. I could see she was tempted to walk over and pick
him up but she sat on the chair nearest the door.
‘Make the call,’ she said.
I called my friend Uche. He was a doctor and I knew he would be willing to help me out. I put the call on loudspeaker.
‘Guy, how far?’
‘I dey,’ I told him. ‘How are you? How are you coping?’
‘Man, we are taking it one day at a time. Sorry I missed your call the other day. I hope you are not sick.’
‘No, no. I’m fine. I just need your advice. Do you have a minute?’
‘Yes. Hit me.’
‘How can one go about getting a DNA test?’
He sighed. ‘I knew this day would come.’
Esohe smirked and I took the phone off loudspeaker.
‘It isn’t a paternity test that I want,’ I hissed.
‘Oh?’
‘Put it back on loudspeaker,’ said Esohe. I slowly thumbed the speaker button.
‘I’m trying to find out how someone can get a maternity test.’
‘Now, that’s interesting. But to be honest, this is not the time. The labs here are swamped testing for the virus. A maternity test would be very low priority. I would suggest waiting till the pandemic blows over and checking then.’
‘Where would we go to do the test, once this is over?’
He named a couple of places and I wrote them down in my phone’s note app. As I said goodbye, he told me that he would need the full story when things had gone back to normal. I smiled. His thirst for gossip was the same as ever.
‘Maybe we should try calling a hospital?’ said Aunty Bidemi.
We tried three hospitals, and they all said that it was not the time to be asking for a maternity test. Esohe was pacing up and down.
‘What’s going to happen now?’ she asked.
‘Look, the hospitals and medical labs are overwhelmed. So I think the best thing we can do now is try to live together in some kind of harmony, until we have a chance to do the test. After all, none of us is going anywhere any time soon.’
She stopped pacing long enough to groan and stamp her foot, and then she was gone.
Chapter Nine
I spent the rest of the day in my bedroom. I fired up my laptop, watched The Platform on Netflix, and then did some freelance accounting for a company that would clearly have to file for bankruptcy soon. They wouldn’t be the first or the last. The lockdown had ruined many businesses.
I did not leave until the evening, when the electricity was cut off again. I closed the lid of my laptop, lit the candle, and went to the living room. Aunty Bidemi was feeding the baby. He looked peaceful. Esohe was not in the room.
‘You must be hungry,’ said Aunty Bidemi, looking up at me and smiling. ‘Dinner is almost ready.’
‘Thank you. But I actually wanted to ask about the generator.’
She shook her head. ‘It overheated. And nobody is moving around right now, so we can’t get it fixed.’
My shoulders dropped. I had left a place of light and air and regular love-making, to come to ... a house of low ceilings, dust, mould and endless rugs. And now there was no generator. The heat would become as thick as a blanket and, at night, the mosquitoes would descend.
‘He’s asleep,’ she said softly, breaking into my thoughts. I watched as she lowered the baby gently into his cot. ‘Go to the dining room, Bambi, I’ll check on the stew.’
‘Do you have no one here to help you?’
‘No. It is just us.’
‘But what about the help?’
‘Don’t mind them, most of them ran off after … after your uncle got sick.’
‘And the others?’
‘What?’
‘The ones that didn’t run off. What happened to them?’
She sighed. ‘The lockdown happened. They wanted to go to their families.’ She opened the door and waited for me to walk out, then she left the door slightly open. She went on into the kitchen.
Esohe was already in the dining room. She did not look at me, but I could sense her anger in the stiffness of her expression. Her lips were pressed together and there were lines on her forehead.
‘Hey.’
She sat up, crossed her arms and seemed to wait for me to say something more. She was wearing a large T-shirt that fell to her knees. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was wearing shorts underneath. Her braids fell on her shoulders and onto the table. I thought about what I could say.
Aunty Bidemi bustled in with a dish of food, and I got up to help her. Esohe was busy pouring herself a glass of wine. She didn’t fill anyone else’s glasses. When we were all seated, we started serving up in silence. The only sounds were the squeak of cutlery against china. They didn’t say anything to one another, so I was forced to pass the dishes between them.
I took a forkful of the rice, and then another. But when I began to chew, I felt something gritty between my teeth, something unpleasant. I spat the rice out into my palm. There was sand in the food. Seconds later, Aunty Bidemi did the same.
‘What is wrong?’ asked Esohe. She leant over to peer at her own plate, pushing the food about with her fork. ‘Wait … what is this?’
‘You tell us, Esohe,’ said Aunty Bidemi in a low, grim voice.
‘What? How …? I didn’t do this!’
‘So it was some spirit that did it?!’ asked Aunty Bidemi.
Esohe looked at me. ‘Bambi … you don’t think that I–’
I cut her off. ‘How come you didn’t eat it?’
‘I was going to eat it! I do not rush food into my mouth like you people.’
Aunty Bidemi stood up, toppling her chair over. ‘I have had enough!’ she roared. ‘Esohe, I want you to leave. Please, pack your things and go.’
Esohe’s eyes widened. She seemed surprised that she was being thrown out, which was odd, considering the battle these two were in. I watched as Esohe’s mouth opened and shut. But then her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head to one side. We waited for her to say something. And finally she did.
‘No.’
‘What?’
‘I’m not going anywhere. In fact, the house belongs to my baby and me now. This is Folu’s gift to us.’
I only just managed to hold Aunty Bidemi back as she leapt for Esohe. And maybe if I hadn’t been holding her back, I would have leapt for her myself. Who did she think she was?! But Esohe didn’t even flinch. She got up slowly, tossed back her braids and left the room. I could feel Aunty Bidemi’s body trembling. She was crying.
‘What did I do to deserve this?’
Nothing. We were all just creatures of our base natures.
Chapter Ten
In the end, I had to make do with a few slices of bread.
It felt as though I had been at the house for six months, but it was still only my first day at the old bungalow. And despite the fact that it was almost midnight, the cock was crowing again. I peered out of my window, which let me see about a quarter of the garden, but I couldn’t see the noisy beast. I would have to ask my aunt about him in the morning.
I lay back on my bed and stared into the darkness. I thought of Mide and how comfortable she would be in her king-sized bed. But perhaps she would be a little lonely, too. She hadn’t reached out to me yet, but she would sooner or later.
Just as I was idly beginning to wonder what Mide might be wearing in bed – whether it was hot enough for her to sleep naked, perhaps – Esohe’s face came to mind, ruining my train of thought. I remembered the frantic look in her eyes when she insisted the baby was hers. But I had seen Aunty Bidemi with her swelling belly and her glow. Esohe was bound to cause more trouble if she went on living with us. I would have to handle her in the morning.
There was no sound in the house – except for the near constant crowing of the cock, the shuffle of the bedsheet, and my body would jolt itself awake, whenever I heard the soft whine of the mosquito. And now the crying. I could hear Remi bawling and the sound was like a thousand needles being shoved into my ear.
I jumped
up from the bed. I had had very little to do with babies, but you could tell when an animal was in distress. Only, when I turned the handle of my room, it wouldn’t give. This wasn’t the time for the house to play up with its rusty hinges and swollen wood. I shook the door. I didn’t have the patience I usually had. I shouted for Aunty Bidemi, and then for Esohe but no one came.
I tried the door again, harder this time. Was it possible that I was locked in? And why would no one just pick the child up? I could hear them now, the two women, their raised voices, but the baby’s crying had not stopped. I shouted again, but still nothing. My patience gave out: I rammed my body against the door, and it splintered open.
By the time I got to Aunty Bidemi’s room, Remi’s cries had only got louder. I opened the door.
The room was dark, except for a candle that was flickering on my aunt’s dressing table. There was still no electricity. Aunty Bidemi had the baby in a tight grip in her arms, and Esohe seemed to be trying to loosen that grip. They fought with the baby sandwiched between them. I strode across the room and lifted the baby from my aunt’s arms.
There was something wet and dark on his face. It was blood, almost black in the candlelight. I felt a little woozy but I managed not to loosen my grip on him.
‘Bambi, she—’ began Esohe.
‘Don’t,’ I said. I ran a thumb gently over his cheek, wiping away the blood. More sprang from wounds in the skin. ‘Did neither of you think about cleaning his wounds?’
They both stayed silent.
I held him close to me and headed for the bathroom. The women followed me quietly. I pulled the first-aid box down from the cupboard and began cleaning the cuts of the tearful baby. I could see the marks more clearly now. Someone had made three sharp cuts on either side of his face, but they weren’t meant to hurt him. They were tribal marks.
Still, I felt my rage bubbling to the surface. We didn’t do this in our family. I didn’t think anyone did it any more. And it would cause people to judge the child before they even got a chance to know him. He deserved better than this. I wiped his tears with my finger. He was a little warm and plenty helpless.
The Baby Is Mine Page 2
