Where Women are Kings

by Christie Watson

  His first favourite thing was next to his bed: a photo in a wooden frame. In the photograph, Mama had her hair in millions of tiny plaits and she was smiling, holding a King James Bible that her Uncle Pastor had given her. The colours of Nigeria were behind her: dark red, bright yellow, and green. And she was smiling.

  ‘You have contact tomorrow, so we need to be up extra early.’ Sue kissed the top of his head before he had time to move his head backwards. ‘Sleep well.’

  Elijah watched Sue walk out of the room and shut the door behind her. He touched the place where she’d kissed and pretended it was Mama who had kissed him instead.

  *

  Elijah stretched his hands, rubbing his fingers over a table scratched with a thousand pen marks, the light of day catching the dusting of glitter embedded into the wood, causing sparks as though the table held memories of children playing. Other children. It was morning and Ricardo had come to take him to the contact centre, but only after they’d had a chat. Elijah had sat down at the kitchen table while Ricardo spoke in a low voice to Sue outside the door. Then he came in and smiled and Elijah knew that he’d have to speak. Elijah didn’t much like talking, and the sooner he started talking the sooner they would leave for the contact centre, which was like a sort of prison where they were keeping Mama. He closed his eyes and forced the words out one by one. ‘Satan was here in the beginning, just like God.’

  He opened his eyes widely and looked up at Ricardo, who had leant back in his chair and crossed his long legs in front of him. Wafts of Ricardo’s aftershave travelled towards Elijah’s nose, something fruity, and spicy. Ricardo had told Elijah once that he owned over fifty different aftershaves, and Elijah had imagined them all, bottle after bottle, lined up on a neat shelf. Ricardo shuffled Elijah’s drawings, which were piled up in the middle of the table between them: dozens of penguins, a long branch of a tree with a line of marching ants carrying leaves across it, a butterfly wing in every colour possible – that had taken days – and a chalky white page that was meant to be a polar bear in the Arctic in the middle of a snowstorm. Elijah didn’t like looking at that picture, even though he’d drawn it; it was so empty and secret. But he kept it, anyway, with the others and told Ricardo that it was important.

  I am a wizard. Elijah wanted to tell Ricardo about the wizard inside him, but his promise to Mama, never, ever to tell about the wizard, echoed in his head. ‘I’m a wicked boy,’ he whispered instead. ‘Full of evil and badness.’ Elijah pushed the words out and thought of Mama waiting for him, of the way her mouth curled into a smile on one side and into a sad face on the other side.

  Elijah reached his hand up to his face and touched the scar on his forehead with his fingertips. It felt lumpy and was the size of a matchstick. ‘Look at my scar,’ he whispered to Ricardo. ‘Only baddies have scars on their face.’

  Ricardo shrugged as if Elijah had said something uninteresting, or untrue. Elijah opened his eyes even wider until they began to fill with water and sting. He tried to ignore the stinging, looked down at the floor and took a big breath of Ricardo’s aftershave. ‘I don’t want to be wicked. Can you help me?’ Elijah’s voice changed into a younger boy’s voice. It moved in all directions as if the words didn’t know the way into Ricardo’s ears. He closed his eyes and listened to his insides: Wizards bring sickness and bad luck and misery to anyone near. At night, they creep out of your skin and fly into the air before choosing a victim and eating their flesh, sometimes their very soul. I am full of evil spirits.

  ‘I am wicked, under the direct control of Satan himself. Bishop told me so.’ Elijah began to sob, a large tear rolling slowly down to his jawline before falling to the table. He touched it with his thumb and rubbed it on the table until dry. ‘I don’t want to be wicked.’

  ‘Who is Bishop? Is he from your church?’

  Elijah opened his eyes but not his mouth.

  Ricardo frowned. ‘Well, whoever he is, you should know that you are not wicked in any way. You are a lovely boy who deserves to be happy and safe and playing.’

  Elijah knew that Ricardo didn’t believe he was evil. He tried to speak to him telepathically, which is when you think straight inside someone else’s brain. It is true. Look at my eyes. It is true. ‘I am Elijah,’ he said, ‘but I’m also full of evil. I bring sickness and bad luck and misery to anyone near me. I am full up with badness.’

  Ricardo put his hand on top of Elijah’s. ‘It sounds very confusing. I’m so glad you managed to talk to me. Can you tell me about the Bishop?’

  Elijah blinked quickly. ‘He is a man of God.’

  Ricardo squeezed Elijah’s hand and then wrote something in his notebook. ‘I’ll try and get in touch with him: can you remember his name? Or the name of his church?’

  Elijah shook his head.

  ‘Don’t worry. But, meanwhile, you must understand that, whatever anyone has ever said to you – even a man of God – you are a good, good boy. Anyway, everyone’s a bit naughty sometimes. Even me, believe it or not!’ Ricardo laughed deep from his stomach. ‘And I’m sure that Bishop would never say that you are wicked. Sometimes, in Brazil, where I come from, the priests talk about heaven and hell and God and Satan. Is that what your Bishop was like?’

  Elijah stopped blinking. His head nodded before he could stop it.

  ‘Well, if your Bishop is anything like the priests I know, he will know that children are good and not wicked.’

  Elijah felt his head begin to shake but he managed to stop it in time.

  ‘And maybe if things weren’t very good at home with Mummy then it was easy to get confused during church and think about bad things.’ Ricardo lifted his head. ‘It must be awful to think that you’re bad inside.’

  Elijah blinked slowly and pushed tears back inside his face by making his stomach twist tightly into a knot. Ricardo was wrong about everything. Things were always good at home with Mama. Always. He looked down at Ricardo’s feet, stretching out in front of him under his side of the table.

  ‘Thank you for telling me about Bishop; as I’ve said to you before, you can tell me anything at all. You’re completely safe with me.’ Ricardo put his hand across the table on top of Elijah’s hand, but Elijah felt his hand shaking. He didn’t want to risk touching Ricardo. Grown-ups said that he was completely safe with them but he was only completely safe with Mama.

  Mama.

  Even thinking of Mama changed everything. When he thought of Mama, the table moved and shook and the ground fell away.

  There was quiet in the kitchen for a short time, apart from the clock ticking above Sue’s cupboards. Elijah looked at the window, and the plants lining the windowsill, which Sue had told him were called orchids. They only needed a tiny bit of water every few weeks and the flowers were the pinkest pink. One of the flowers was white with dots on it and crept up a thin green pole. He had felt a petal earlier that day with his thumb, and he couldn’t work out if he was the petal or the thumb, both were so soft.

  ‘How long have we known each other?’ Ricardo smiled the smile he saved only for Elijah. Ricardo’s face was usually square, his mouth flat, and when he smiled he showed his teeth. But the special smile he saved for Elijah was when his eyes twinkled. Elijah had never seen him use that smile on anyone else. It was like a secret between them. ‘This is the first time you’ve told me properly that you feel like you’re bad – and mentioned Bishop – with more than a sentence here or there. I know Mummy used to pray a lot and she’s very religious. It’s good that you’re talking to me about things, Elijah. Talking is always good.’

  But Elijah didn’t feel good or safe. His heart was running across him and his stomach had moved. He looked past the orchids and out of the window into the daylight.

  Ricardo smiled again but Elijah could see his thoughts. Inside Ricardo’s head he was running fast away, all the way back to Brazil where he could hide from such an evil wizard in the jungle that had neon-green frogs and spiders as big as a hand and you could keep lizards as pet
s in your living room.

  ‘Do you want a biscuit?’ Ricardo reached down into his bag and pulled something out. He waved a packet in the air: custard creams. Ricardo always brought custard creams.

  ‘Wicked boys don’t eat biscuits,’ Elijah said. He sighed. ‘You don’t believe that I’m evil.’

  ‘No, I actually know for sure that you’re a good boy. I want to help you, and I can. We’ve got you to a safe place, and I’ve lined up some therapy. Now that you’re settled with Sue and Gary, we can help you properly. Play therapy and art therapy, a nice school for you to start. I want you to see a special lady, Chioma, who helps children just like you. She’s very nice. I think we can all help you, Elijah.’

  ‘Nobody can help me. Even Mama couldn’t help me.’

  After the hospital, where he couldn’t see Mama at all but could hear her howling like a wolf from somewhere far away, they had told him he had to stay with other families for a while. Elijah had stayed with many strange families in many strange houses. At first, when he had moved in with Sue and Gary, he had been allowed to see her three times a week, and she’d held him and whispered into his ear, ‘I love you so much, and I promise everything will turn out well,’ and pulled him close to her body, close enough for him to smell her skin, and everything was strange but bearable. But then the weeks went on and on, and he was waiting and waiting; they told him he had to stay with Sue and Gary for a while. Nobody told him when he could go home with Mama. Not even Ricardo. ‘I want to go home.’

  ‘I know you do, but it’s our job – my job – to keep you safe. You deserve to be loved and to be safe.’

  ‘I want to go home. I don’t deserve anything.’

  Ricardo opened the biscuits. ‘You deserve so much, Elijah. But why don’t you start with a biscuit, for now?’

  I feast on human flesh. Elijah looked at the packet for a long time before reaching his small hand towards the biscuits, taking one, and putting it into his mouth whole.

  Ricardo smiled, the special one. ‘I think you’re making real progress, Elijah. I’m so glad you’re feeling settled enough here to talk about how you feel. And nothing has gone wrong for a long time. You’re doing really well.’

  Elijah shrugged back at Ricardo. He wanted to climb on his lap and go to sleep. Once, Ricardo had picked him up and carried him, and Elijah had liked it, the sense that Ricardo might be strong enough to carry a wizard, or even fight a wizard. Maybe Ricardo had special powers too. He felt close to safe. Almost. After Mama, Ricardo had known Elijah the longest in the world.

  ‘Before we go for our visit today, I have to tell you about your Mama,’ said Ricardo. ‘There’s some things we need to talk about. She’s not doing so well, Elijah, I’m afraid. She’s still being assessed for a while, but we need to talk about the future …’

  Elijah ate his biscuit and closed his ears. Being a wizard could sometimes be useful. If he wanted to close his ears, he could, like they had tiny shutters that came down whenever he commanded. He didn’t hear another word that Ricardo said.

  *

  The contact centre was a low building with windows that didn’t open. There were children’s pictures on the walls next to more notices telling you what to do. Elijah asked Ricardo to tell him what they all said. ‘Nothing exciting,’ he said, but then Elijah made him talk with mind control. Ricardo sighed, then read:

  ‘In case of fire, assemble in car park.’

  ‘Please ensure door is closed on way out.’

  ‘C.C.T.V. in operation.’

  Elijah followed Ricardo down the long corridor. Ricardo’s flip-flops that day were green. Sometimes Elijah looked very closely at Ricardo’s toes. His toes were smooth. Mama had hairy toes and so did Sue and Gary. Ricardo must have shaved them. ‘Do you shave your toes?’ Elijah asked.

  Ricardo laughed. ‘You’re very funny, Elijah. You make me laugh a lot. That’s such a good skill, to make people laugh.’

  Elijah felt his stomach turn when Ricardo said he was good at something. He knew it wasn’t true. He wasn’t really good at anything at all, except evil. They went into a room where there was a table in the middle and two sofas. On the other side of the room there was another door. They sat on a sofa. Elijah tried to see through the door but his eyes were wet. He wondered what Mama would look like today, what she’d be wearing, what she’d whisper into his ear. He felt the wizard push down low inside his body. Whenever Mama was near, the wizard got smaller, like it was scared of Mama.

  It had been bearable when he saw Mama regularly, but when the visits became less and less, the wizard flipped around inside him and sometimes did something dangerous, like eat human flesh or cause sickness and misery. Elijah sat up straight and focused on the door without blinking, in case he missed the first look of her. He imagined exactly what she’d say to him: Little Nigeria, you are the best thing that ever happened to me, or, My lovely son, I’ve missed you so much I can barely breathe.

  Ricardo tapped his foot on the carpet. The door they’d entered the room through opened, and the head of an old white man with a beard popped around the corner. ‘Word, please?’

  Ricardo looked at Elijah very quickly. ‘Back in a minute, OK?’

  Elijah smiled. He might get time on his own with Mama. Maybe they’d let them cuddle, or even take a nap like they used to, tangled up in a ball until it was impossible to move and felt so safe and they both had dreamless sleep. Mama must be waiting the other side of the door. Elijah could smell her: slightly burning plantain and old library books.

  He looked at the door and held his breath until small dancing lights filled his head. The other door opened. ‘Elijah,’ said Ricardo, sitting down on the sofa. ‘Mama isn’t here yet, I’m afraid.’

  Elijah let out all of his breath in a rush. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s bad news, Elijah. It doesn’t look like she’ll be coming today.’ Ricardo’s voice sounded full of danger, like it was on a tightrope at the top of a circus tent, walking across very slowly.

  ‘She will come,’ said Elijah. He felt the wizard laugh inside him, a kind of rumbling in his belly. ‘We just need to wait.’ He started crying and let the tears spill down his face, no longer bothering to try and hold them in. ‘She will come. She probably missed the bus.’

  Ricardo pulled Elijah towards him and brushed his face dry with the palm of his hand. ‘I’m sorry, Elijah. I did tell you this might happen.’

  ‘We need to wait.’ Elijah looked up at Ricardo and into his eyes. ‘Please can we wait?’

  Ricardo looked at his watch. ‘We’ll give it ten minutes, OK? But I really think that she won’t make it this time.’

  Elijah let Ricardo hold him while he watched the door. He prayed inside his body and inside his head. Open the door! his insides screamed. Open the door. He used all his powers until he felt empty.

  The minutes ticked by and the door remained shut. Elijah became smaller and smaller and the wizard grew. The wizard laughed in Elijah’s ear so loudly Elijah knew Ricardo must have heard it. But Ricardo just loosened his grip on Elijah. ‘We have to go now, Elijah. I’m sorry Mama couldn’t make it. I’m really sorry. She loves you very much.’ Before Ricardo turned his head away and stood up, Elijah saw that Ricardo’s eyes were wet. ‘We better go before they kick us out,’ said Ricardo.

  But Elijah couldn’t move. He just looked and looked at the closed door.

  *

  That night, it was so dark when Elijah woke up that he felt dead. He had to move his fingers and toes to know he was still alive. Elijah died once, the first night he had been away from Mama. He was so dead then that he couldn’t move anything. Not even one toe. Being dead was like living inside a dream. Only some things were real, but you didn’t know which ones.

  It was quiet, but not too quiet. Elijah heard the snoring of Gary. Gary snored loudly and, before Gary, Marie never snored and, when Elijah stayed with Linda and Pete, Pete snored in bursts and then it went terrifyingly quiet, like Pete was dead, but then
a sudden snore would come and Elijah knew he was all right, which was good because he liked Pete. He liked Pete so much he’d put a force field around the house to protect him from evil spirits. Before Pete and Linda’s was Olu’s house and, even though Olu’s son, Fola, was only fourteen, he snored the loudest of all.

  Listening to Gary snoring made Elijah think about all the other snores he’d heard in his life. He tried to focus really hard on the sound but he felt the badness inside him come alive like the snoring was waking it up. He felt the wizard grow bigger and bigger until he couldn’t hold it down any more and the feeling made everything close in like the world was folding in half. He felt the wizard inside him wanting to get out. He knew the wizard would use its powers for evil but he had no fight left.

  Creeping out of little boys’ skins took a lot of effort, even for experienced wizards. First, it had to push Elijah’s insides far down until it could sneak up his back. Then it moved itself up towards Elijah’s head. When it was nearly there, it had to look for the nose or ear. Then was the tricky bit: getting itself really small – small enough to fit through a nostril. It pressed and pushed through and then it was free.

  Elijah could feel the wizard crawling out of him and flying around the room, faster and faster. He shut his eyes tight and tried to keep them closed but something forced them open. He could hear the wizard slithering out of the door then swooping down the stairs. Elijah’s heart was thumping like it was trying to get out. He thought of Sue and Gary asleep, and forced his legs to swing out of bed. Elijah walked down the stairs as quietly as possible with his thumping heart. The kitchen was quiet except for his heart and the clock, and everything was locked and closed. Even the fridge had a small lock on it. There was a sink with a washcloth hanging over the tap, the brightest yellow colour of the sun in Nigeria.