by Maya Rossi
“What’s wrong with her?” I asked Riggy.
“Don’t mind her.”
“How are you, I’m sorry I didn’t--”
“No,” she said, you did more than you should have.”
Resting my head on my folded arms, I sighed as she continued to push her hand through my hair. We were like that for sometime. Joy reading, Riggy petting me and reading a book similar to the one Joy held.
“What are you reading?” I asked drowsily.
“It’s a romance novel set in the old days--”
“White people’s own?”
“Yeah,” she snorted, “our people don’t exactly do romance. We have bigger problems than that.”
“Hmmm.”
A hard tug on my hair pulled me awake. Riggy smiled. “You need to go. You’ve all taken too many risks lately.”
“Not me!” Joy piped up.
“I’m grateful,” Riggy began, “but this is--”
“I know.”
The door to the room opened, and Merrick walked in like he owned the place. He probably did. But still. He just walked in and stood over us. He studied us and we watched him right back. Finally, he grinned.
“You still haven’t finished the novel?” he asked.
Joy rolled her eyes for the hundredth time. Riggy laughed. Laughed. “It’s love we can’t rush it.”
“You better rush it and give it to Ada, she can’t miss out.”
“I’m not sure she can even spell her name,” Joy said carelessly.
“I might not spell or read, but they are other things I do well,” I snapped.
She waggled her eyebrow. The action was cute, making her lovely face look younger and warmer than usual, but I just wanted to slap her.
“Illiteracy is a love killer.”
I was more conscious of Merrick than I had ever been. I waited tensely for his reaction.
He grabbed Riggy’s book, mock sneered at the cover, and returned it. “I find the cover most annoying.”
“Why?” Joy asked. “Because he’s the man you wish you were?”
Merrick waved that off. “Please. Real men aren’t like that and women aren’t that small either.”
“Oh,” I said, “your problem is his size. You’re small and he’s big.”
The room went silent. Riggy and Joy gaped at me. Merrick just smiled widely. Rachel guffawed. They burst into laughter.
“What did I say?”
They only laughed harder, so I gave up.
Merrick tugged on a strand of my hair. “You’ve stayed too long. You have to go.”
Joy sat up on Riggy’s side. She looked from me to Merrick and back again.
I said, “What?”
“How does he know you have to go?” Riggy asked.
“I know where she works,” Merrick returned lazily.
My heart warmed at his defence even as it shriveled.
“Works,” Joy repeated. Then she turned to face us. “Fuck him--”
Merrick coughed. I half rose, embarrassed and angry. “What are you talking about?”
Joy continued blithely, “You don’t need my permission, but I’m giving it, anyway. Fuck him and forget him. Do nothing else, Ada.”
I threw up my hand. “I’m tired. You’re--”
“I’m not being rude or annoying or anything.” Joy leaned forward, eyes dead serious. “I mean it. And you better listen.”
When I just stood there sputtering, Merrick tugged on my hair again. “Come on.”
I turned on him then, so angry I couldn’t see straight. “Stay away from me!”
I ran from the house, down the beautiful hall, past the little girl and even his friend. I didn’t stop until I was outside. Staring sightlessly at the ground, I tried to make sense of the past one minute. No, the past one hour, even the past week, was a blur of surprises and shocks.
“Hey.”
Merrick’s friend from that morning got on the bike and waited. I should thank him, apologize, do something, say something, anything. But I was exhausted. I got on the bike silently and never looked back.
At the shop, I tried to put things in order. But my mind wasn’t there. With time on my hands I could think about Pa Nonso, Oga, Riggy’s revelations and Merrick. Jesus, Merrick.
Why did he understand me so well?
He must have talked to Jerry. I should be happy he wanted to protect me, but it only infuriated me the more.
I was relieved when Madam called around six saying I could close the shop and go home. I needed real work to take my mind off things.
I made vegetable soup with lots of meat and fish. When I was done, I got out the bucket of yam flour. I was measuring out the amount I needed when Madam tapped my shoulder.
“There’s someone looking for you.”
I blinked, struggled to focus. Her make up was perfect, her skin fair and lovely. “Are you going out, I’m almost done.”
“There’s someone looking for you,” she repeated.
I shook my head and reached back to turn off the gas. “That’s not possible.”
“His name is Tochukwu, a boy. Around eleven or twelve. Is that not your brother?”
My mind was on my work and I didn’t think. I must have missed the knock. “He’s twelve.”
Chapter seven
“You shouldn’t have come.”
How many times would I say that? Tochukwu’s expression said the same thing. He knew the risks but had to. He wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t necessary. Madam was on her phone, speaking quietly. Tochukwu sat on the dining table with her, gobbling up food like he hadn’t eaten in days. Maybe he hadn’t.
Where was Tonna, Aunty Sheila?
He sneaked awed looks at the new curved flat screen T.V, Madam’s smart phone, the fancy lights dangling from the ceiling. It irritated me. To my shock, Madam took his appearance in stride, engaging him in conversation. I gave him a sign to refuse, but he didn’t.
Now he ate, drank water and asked for seconds, like everything was fine.
I wanted to hit him.
My throat hurt from holding back.
And I wanted to hug him, check him over, ask a million questions I only dreamt about. How was Aunty Sheila and Tonna? Did they get the money Madam gave me for Christmas? How was school?
I had so many questions I couldn’t stay still.
Madam replaced her phone on the table and took her spoon. “If you’re just going to stand there and not join us, go make yourself useful in the kitchen.”
After one last glance at my brother, I fled.
In the kitchen, I paced. What did his presence mean? Was someone dying? How did he know to come here? Did Madam Gold know he was here? How would Madam react once he was gone?
I heard muffled voices and ran to the door. Inching my back flat against the door, I eavesdropped.
“... grateful for everything, ma. And Aunty Sheila too,” Tochukwu was saying.
“How’s your aunty?” Madam asked.
“She’s good, misses Ada, but she’s fine. Really happy that you’re taking good care of our Ada.”
The rest of the conversation went the same way. How’s this, how’s that? I chewed my lips in frustration, praying they ate quickly.
Then Madam asked, “How did you know this place?”
I stopped breathing, waiting for his reply.
“Aunty Sheila got the address from Madam Gold.”
My shoulders dropped, and I slid to the ground. With nothing to occupy it, my mind wandered. Why did Joy say that about fucking Merrick? And right in his presence, too. Sometimes I just want to kill her. As if that wasn’t enough, Tochukwu was here. Then there was Riggy.
I had given little thought to how Riggy would get home. Would her Madam accept her back?”
“Ada?” Madam called.
I scrambled to my feet.
“I want you to settle him,” Madam said, “settle him and send him back. He can sleep here tonight.”
She wouldn’t meet my eye, and I knew
she was furious. Lowering my voice, I went to my knees. “I didn’t know he was coming, I swear.”
“I know.”
“I will send him on his way in the morning, I’m so sorry.”
“Oga mustn’t meet or see him here, if not…”
I swallowed down my fear and answered, “Yes ma.”
Later, I stood by proudly as Tochukwu thanked Madam for everything. My baby brother knew how unconventional it was for a Madam to eat with someone like him, and he didn’t take it for granted. Madam ended up giving him five thousand naira for his transport back.
Back in my room, Tochukwu walked around, touching everything. He sat on the bed, let it bounce. He looked through my cupboard, returned to the window and back to the bed again. My baby brother at age twelve was almost as tall as I was. His skin was darker, his hair cut neat. He looked good, like an average kid. Neat hair, clean skin, clean clothes. Seeing him made sense of my hard work, lightened my load.
I wanted to barrage him with questions. How had Aunty Sheila allowed him make the journey alone?
As he bounced on the bed, he said wistfully, “You’ve been enjoying. Your own room….that woman. So nice, so kind and beautiful. No wonder you forgot us.”
Just like that, his words set off a bolt of fire works somewhere inside me. Suddenly, I was back in the living room with Pa Nonso and Oga looking me over like a piece of meat. Removing my clothes, weighing my breasts.
I leaned in close and caught my brother’s chin. He froze in surprise, watching me warily. “You’ve been here for what? An hour, two hours? You know nothing about me or my Madam or this house, so don’t say rubbish. You hear me?”
He swallowed, looking contrite. “I’m sorry.”
I nodded and walked over to my cupboard. Underneath was where I kept my stash. Every penny given to me by Madam, every change left in my hand, it was all here. I had never stolen a penny from Madam, but I kept these anyway and made sure she knew about it.
It was a mismatch of the smallest currencies. With To’s help, we arranged and counted them.
“Ten thousand, five hundred and fifty-five,” he whispered, eyes wide like I was a hero or something. Some of the warmth in his eyes cooled and turned wary. “You got this from…”
“Change, dash, tips at the shop.” I smiled. “Especially at the shop.”
“They just give you money?”
I nodded. “They like me, I don’t know why but they do.”
“And they bless you with fifty naira or twenty or ten.” I didn’t know how to take his words, so we just stared at each other. Finally he smiled, “Maybe because you’re helpful and hardworking and never steal.”
“That’s important, most important,” I said. “Mind your business, work hard and never steal.”
“I will.”
His quiet words brought me up short. “You’ll never do this--”
“Be a houseboy? If you can--”
“You’ll never do this,” I shout. My voice is shrill and shaky, and To reached for my hand, squeezing.
“I understand why you wouldn’t want me to, if not for pictures, I won’t recognize you.”
Wasn’t it sad? Eleven years since I saw Aunty Sheila and Tonna. The last picture was more than four years ago. “You won’t do this.”
“I will never do this.” He hands me a handkerchief, which I stare at in amazement. “Take it, you’re crying.”
“I’m sorry.” Embarrassed at my show of emotion, I frown. “What are you doing here?”
He hesitated, and a sobering realization hit me square in the face. He was my brother, and I didn’t really know him. I settled on the bed and turned to face him. “Tell me about home, Aunty Sheila. Toona…. mom.”
To laughed, and my heart squeezes with pride. He was beautiful, sweet and respectful. “You remember Kenny?”
“You remember Kenny?” I threw back. At his offended look, I add, “I was six when I left home and you and Toona were newborns, how can you know someone I went to primary school with?”
“Aunty Sheila told us and he came around a lot.”
I stopped, surprised. Kenny was a primary school mate and a bully. He put sand in my food, called me names and made my life hell. I remembered running home crying to report every single thing he did until dad told me to hit back.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But when things were hard, when Toona was sick and then Aunty Sheila, he was there, helping.”
I pulled my gaze from his to search the ceiling. Why would things be difficult for them?
“School fees is expensive,” he added. “I told Aunty Sheila we should use the money from your Madam for a public school but she refused.”
“I want a private school for you too.” I squeezed his hand. “Think about it. You can become a lawyer and life will be good--”
“If we had gone to public school, we would save that money and you’ll come home.”
I released his hand. “I can’t. I can’t come home.”
“Why?” he asked plaintively. His worry taking me by surprise. My brother was worried for me, about me. “I know no matter how kind your Madam is, a maid is a maid.” His voice cracked, tears brimming on his lashes. “A boy in my class, they have one and… his father raped her, Ada.”
“Shhhh,” I tried to hush him.
“They laugh about it, they discuss it,” he shook his head, “like it’s nothing. She’s nothing. I want you to come home. We can farm the land and--”
“But that’s not why Aunty Sheila sent you here. How’s mom?”
His face light up like a kid at Christmas. It was both joyful and bittersweet to see my brother so normal. “She’s getting better, can you believe it?”
It wasn’t what I was expecting to hear. I sat up, staring at him in disbelief. “What did you say?”
“She’s getting better, no more craziness or searching dust bins, leaving the house naked, nothing like that.”
“H—how?”
Matt’s face fell. “It wasn’t easy. We used to have children taunt us, laugh whenever mom… she followed us to school once. Can you believe that?”
“Jesus, you shouldn’t have to suffer that,” I whispered, shocked.
“It was hell. We would go on break and there’s mom in her underwear, off,rotten mango--”
“She always liked it, mango.”
“The students will point and laugh. The school guards will try to chase her off, but she always came back.”
Tears prickled my eyes, and I closed them, inhaling through my nose. Jesus. I always thought I sacrificed for them. But they weren’t having life easy either. “She wanted to see you.”
“Yes. So, Tonna, Kenny--”
“Kenny!”
“He was awesome. We pitched in and took her home, chained her to the wall. We would take turns bathing and feeding her--”
“She shouldn’t have--”
“When she had to work.” To laughed. “Try to understand how it was. We used your money for school fees, then we hawked akpu for feeding money.” He smiled, looking so much like father I looked away. “Mom is doing well.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“She asked of you.”
“Me?”
“Yes. We took her to this psychiatric home, didn’t think it would work, it did.”
“Where did you get the money from?”
He stopped, his breath coming fast and thick. I reached for him. We held each other tight. To shuddered. “I thought we were doing fine. There was money. I didn’t ask, I didn’t ask questions. I think I suspected. And I…”
I stared at my window. I knew where this was going. I wanted to kiss Aunty Sheila’s feet and wring her neck at the same time.
“When we left for school, she had men over--”
“I’m sorry.”
“I walked on them. She said he was her boyfriend. And I knew.”
“She can stop now, can’t she?” I edged cautiously.
He
drew back and my heart broke at his expression. “She’s sick. She will die. It’s HIV. She’s sick.”
