Binding Scars

by Maya Rossi

  “Oh, please don’t apologize.” Madam rounded on her daughter. “She walked into a fire for me and you’re here yarning nonsense.” Her voice cracked. Benita flinched, looking ashamed. “Not even your father will do that for me.”

  Not even Benita. It didn’t need to be said.

  A tiny lump of a girl ran forward, crashing into my legs. “Hey.” I cupped her chin and saw it was the older girl from the staircase. I won’t ever forget the sight of such a small girl giving her younger sister comfort. It pierced bittersweet memories out of me.

  “Where’s your sister?” I asked.

  She pointed at the smaller girl in the arms of a towering man and woman. Another girl followed, a couple of feet behind. She was around thirteen. She had a look I was familiar with, thin arms, hunched shoulder, darting eyes.

  Eyes that were currently filled with tears. As I watched, her Madam twisted her ear, hard enough that her long nails broke the skin. The sight of the blood grounded me.

  I studied the girl resting against my legs. “Are you alright?”

  “You’re talking funny,” she said.

  “I think it’s the smoke.”

  The father put the younger child down when he reached us. He greeted my Madam. “Thank you for your help. Today would have been a disaster.”

  “You’re welcome.” Madam glared a reprimand at the sulking Benita to greet and smile graciously at the man. “You’re welcome but thank her.” She pointed at me, smiling proudly. “She saved their lives. Our lives.”

  Benita rolled her eyes.“Is she a superhero now?”

  When no one gave her the attention she wanted, she stalked off. But Madam pulled her back, further humiliating her further.

  I almost pitied her, but she was Benita, bouncing back like a ball to most situations. Nothing put that girl down, never. My gaze caught on her sleek ponytail,. I barely held back a snort at a trail of cobwebs dangling from the end.

  She must have spent almost six hours packing that hair.

  The girl against my leg tapped my leg. “Aunty--”

  I shook my head. “My name is Ada.”

  “My name is Kachi and my sister is Tochi.” She frowned, looking adorable in her knee-length gown and socks. She had that satisfied, unhurried look of rich little girls. A quick glance at her mother who was still reprimanding the house girl confirmed my observation. In her shorts and t-shirt, she looked casual but rich.

  “But you’re older than me. Mom says I should call people older than--”

  “She’s different sweetie.” The mother ran a hand over her daughter’s hair. She eyed me critically, I suppressed the urge to check out my outfit of jeans and t-shirt. It was one of Aunty Yemi’s. I know I didn’t look like a maid. “She must tell me where she got you,” she said absently.

  Madam Gold. I would have answered, but after twelve years I knew not to speak out of turn. I kept the smile on my face and waited while she checked me over.

  “Those jeans are expensive.” She frowned.

  “Most of my friends like her and give her things,” Madam replied, edging close. I saw the worry in her tone and bit back a smile. She hated it when her friends or acquaintances tried to take advantage of me.

  I didn’t mind.

  Kachi’s mother frowned harder, her pretty face twisting into ugly. “Give her things? And you allow it? That gives them ideas. They get greedy and steal.”

  “Not this one,” Madam said confidently, but irritation kept her voice cold, “she’s like a daughter to me.”

  Kachi’s mom arched her eyebrows. She didn’t need to say what she was thinking. Are you mad?

  “Yes.” Madam smiled. “She’s been with me eleven years.”

  Ten years seven months and two weeks to be exact.

  Kachi tapped my leg again. When I looked down, she smiled shyly and passed me a note. My heart dropped clear to my toes.

  Tochi left her mother and ran over. She barreled over with so much force she almost crashed into my knees. I stopped low to catch her. “Careful.”

  “Tochi, come here,” her mother called, “and you too Kachi.”

  “We want Aunt— Ada to read our letter.”

  It was all I could do to keep my smile in place. I gave my Madam a pleading look. Just when she opened her mouth, Kachi’s mother said, “OK, just read it, let’s go.”

  “There’s no need.” Madam smiled at the girls. “I’m sure you must be tired from all the running--”

  “Please, please, please.” Kachi jumped up and down in excitement, the colored beads in her hair echoing the movement.

  I was both curious and afraid to read the note. My mouth went dry and an odd feeling of detachment came over me. With a deep breath, I unfurled the note. Even to my uneducated eye, the lettering was too crisp and sophisticated for a six-year-old.

  “How old are you?” I managed.

  “Eight,” she piped up, “but I will be nine in two months.”

  Jesus. She was so small.

  “I’m five!”

  I smiled at Tochi. “Can you guess mine?”

  Kachi cocked her head to the side, eyeing me critically. Suddenly, she didn’t have the satisfied, carefree look of a child who had more than enough to eat. She seemed a little too wise right then. She pointed at their maid. “Come.”

  The girl shuffled forward. She was still sniffling back tears, and I wanted to smack her. As a maid, you shouldn’t dwell on the last punishment. It would only get her more beating if she didn’t pay attention.

  “She’s our maid, and she’s fourteen.” Kachi frowned. “You’re bigger, so you must be seventeen or eighteen--”

  “Let her read the note, let’s go.” Her mother reached for Kachi and Tochi. A few feet away, the father spoke with the shirtless man who led us out of the fire. He turned, and our eyes met. I glanced away quickly, back to the note.

  I read slowly, not to make a mistake. “We. Are. G--” Shame squeezed my lungs, so I breathed through my mouth. “I don’t know that word,” I admitted quietly, conscious of the eyes and ears trained on us.

  “Why?” Kachi seemed genuinely puzzled. “Is your school a bad one?”

  “What now?” Benita interrupted rudely. She snatched the note and passed it back. “It’s almost eleven, I haven’t eaten or taken my bath and you’re here playing.”

  I stepped back. “I’m sorry. I will speak to the manager.”

  “No,” Madam caught my eye and shook her head, “Let’s just go.”

  “I can’t go like this mommy!”

  “Go and look for your sister,” Madam ordered.

  Benita rolled her eyes and pranced off.

  “Get the driver, tell him we should be ready in an hour, then get our things from the room.”

  I said my goodbyes and left. Aside from the fire, the weather was humbling for March. At fifteen and eighteen, Benita and Blessing were at the age where they packed too many clothes and make up for a simple trip. It took two trips to get our things.

  The driver directed me to a popular local restaurant fifteen minutes away where Madam and the girls had gone to get breakfast. Blessing wanted the roadside amala. Madam gave me some money to go get some.

  To my relief, the roadside woman selling the amala was directly in front of the hotel. After buying ten wraps, I made a quick detour to the hotel. The shirtless guy who helped me out of the hotel was in front struggling to get some bags out of an expensive looking red car. The door turned downward as if it was about to fall off and hit his head. I hurried to help, only to skid to a halt when the door turned at a weird angle before closing.

  Oh.

  “Wow, that was beautiful.”

  He looked at me and smiled. “You know cars?”

  “Not sure I can spell it,” I said ruefully. I ran a hand over the side. It was smooth and hot to the touch. What sort of brain could design such beauty? The red shone bright and rich.

  Not even Madam’s husband could afford such a car. I didn’t need to ask to know the car coul
d buy me a hundred times over. Curious, I studied the guy. He was still shirtless and sweaty and weary.

  A streak of dirt ran down the center of his chest. I raised my head and caught him watching me with a question in his brown eyes. Except for his rather piercing eyes, he had one of those faces common to the Yorubas. He was black, with two faint tribal marks and a wide mouth. Nothing remarkable.

  “I wanted to thank you for helping me and the girls get out.”

  “And I was waiting to thank you for getting those girls out.”

  “Oh. Why?”

  He pulled a briefcase out of the car and set it on the back of the car. “I own the hotel, imagine what would have happened if something happened to those girls.”

  I glanced at the hotel. When we arrived for the wedding, I thought the building was beautiful. It had these pillars, like the ones in Church, but better. The glass doors and the garden with the water sprinklers gave the place a cool beauty that was unique. Not that I had been to many hotels.

  Now, the white walls were black with soot, the potted plants broken and the garden a mess. “I’m sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He popped the briefcase open. “You did more than all my workers put together.”

  No be our business. I recalled that girl saying. She hadn’t cared about the fire. Not one of them had. “Are you a bad employer?”

  He stopped, placing his elbows on the car. For a long minute he stared at me, then shook his head and straightened. “I pay well. My hotel is the greatest thing about this town.” He held up his hands. “No offence.”

  “Maybe you don’t hire well.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Grab those bags for me, please.”

  I transferred the amala from right to left and followed him to the hotel with the bags. “What are you going to do?”

  “Won’t your Madam skin you alive for taking so much time?” he asked without looking back.

  Young men of around his age were already at work fixing up the place. He couldn’t be over twenty-eight and he had a hotel and that car? “Skin me alive?”

  “My elder sister was… like you. A…”

  “What?”

  He shook his head and said, “Her madam was crazy wicked.”

  I shuddered. He didn’t have to remind me how lucky I was with Madam. I had heard stories. I had my experience with Madams like Ngozi. I was beyond grateful. “I’m sorry she suffered. I know what that’s like.”

  He set the bags on the ground in front and turned to me. “She’s fine now. She had to care for me then, but I got her now.”

  “You’re a good--”

  “If there was something you could do now,” he stepped forward, “if you could do something you like what would it be?”

  Suddenly, I realized I had been talking to this shirtless man who I didn’t know. He had an expensive car and a freaking hotel. My eyes flicked to the workers who chatted among themselves as they worked.

  I was safe, right?

  There were stories of young girls who entered the cars of young rich guys with no discernible source of income, only to have their destinies exchanged for money. I took a step back, my heart rate speeding up as I tried to remember if he had touched me in any way.

  “Hey.”

  I struggled to focus on him. “What?”

  “I asked if there was something--”

  “Yes, I heard you the first time.” I took another step back. On one hand, he seemed normal, and I had enjoyed talking to him. There was freedom. I could interrupt him, speak my mind, keep quiet if I wanted to.

  He opened one bag. I leaned forward to see and was almost disappointed to see nothing but books and new clothes.

  “What are you doing?”

  “It’s for my sister,” he said absently. I’m travelling for work and I need her to handle this mess.”

  “What do you do?”

  He looked amused, like he knew what I had been thinking. “I’m a doctor.” He handed me his phone. It was sleek, new and expensive. I placed the amala by my feet to hold it with both hands. I couldn’t take the chance of it falling from my hand. In the picture, he smiled at a woman that looked a lot like him. He had on those doctor's white coat and a stethoscope around his neck.

  When I raised my head, I met laughing eyes. “It’s good you’re careful, but you haven’t answered my question.”

  “School.” I cleared my throat. “I want to go to school,” my face burned hotter than the flames that morning, “learn to read.”

  “You can’t read but you speak so well.”

  “I pick words and phrases, and Benita makes me listen while she reads out loud.” At his questioning look, I add, “She wants to be a radio presenter.”

  He laughed. When he sobered up, his brown eyes pierced mine. “What if I gave you a job?”

  “I won’t leave my Madam.”

  He smiled sadly. “I know.”

  I handed him his phone, an echo of his sadness thrumming through me. “Don’t just hire people who need the job, hire good people.”

  He blinked. “How did you know?”

  “I slept with the workers.”

  His breath hissed through his teeth. “How many of you were in there, eight?”

  I grabbed the amala. “Does that matter?”

  “Maybe not.” He pushed back the bag with his foot. “Let me give you an advice of my own. Live your life. Do your thing. Be you.”

  With another step back, I pushed a much needed distance between us. “That’s what people say when they are about to do something bad!”

  “Maybe you’re secretly a bad girl!”

  When I got back, Madam wasn’t happy. Later she asked what took so long, I lied to her for the first time.

  Chapter three

  Madam said they chose Diamond estate because it was quiet and secure. It was an ultramodern complex for the rich and famous. The houses came in storied duplexes with swimming pools, gigantic buildings with huge black gates and security dogs as tall as humans. The children of diamond estate drove their parents’ cars, threw parties, and impregnated those of the lower classes. Scandals were snuffed out like candle light with parents taking spoiled children outside the country for ‘holidays.’

  There was a clear class hierarchy. The hired workers were the last. I belonged to the bottomless pit group with my friends — Joy and Mary. We ran households, kept secrets, and suffered in silence. We were unpaid servants, joined to our Madams for life.

  A light breeze trickled through the window, brushing across my cheeks. I wiped the tears from my cheeks, from the silent cries in my sleep. My stomach grumbled, and I sat up. Then I recalled I ate nothing the day before. Oga had returned unexpectedly, so Madam had been in the room with him all day.

  I had slaved all day in the kitchen, then the shop and back again to get Benita home from school and make sure she ate. From there, I rushed to the mainland to deliver products for Madam. Even my fingernails were exhausted. I dropped back to the bed with a sigh.

  My fingers traced the scar on my left cheek. Like an old friend, the memories returned. The smell of burning flesh. My flesh. My screams. Something crashed upstairs, jolting my whole body away from the hurt of the past. I pressed a hand to my pounding chest.

  With a sigh, I scrambled out of bed to get my watch. The blue watch. The gift that changed everything. It was just 3.00 in the morning, but I might as well get a head start on things. No way I could go back to sleep after that cry. When I opened the main doors, I heard the shouts and stiffened.

  Madam and Oga.

  He travelled for work and only just returned last night. I opened the front door to the main house with my key and stepped inside. What could they quarrel about by this time? My heated skin welcomed the coolness from the air conditioner as I moved through the house, ignoring the ongoing shouts from above.

  Despite my efforts, words reached my ears. I grabbed a slice of bread and stopped by the kitchen doors to eat it.

  “I don’t
want him here and that’s final,” Oga screamed.

  “Please, please, it was a long time ago,” Madam cried. “I love him!”

  I froze with my bread halfway to my mouth. Who was 'him?’ The unmistakable sound of flesh striking flesh followed. Cold rage drove my next actions. I wasn’t even aware of moving. Quietly, I drifted up the stairs to Madam’s rooms. I didn’t make my usual stop to admire the family pictures lining up the walls. At the top of the stairs, I stopped.