AMID SECRETS - CHAPTER 12
*Nwanyieze’s POV*
After a warm bath, I dressed in one of my flowing bubas and sit in the sitting room to read the previous day’s copy of The Guardian newspaper, wanting to be kept aB??@Å¡? of the happenings in Nigeria.
The president is still fighting corruption, the northern part of the country is still being plagued by Boko Haram terrorists, the value of the Naira has come crashing, food prices have doubled and even tripled, unemployment is still rising (where the hell are all the jobs?), pensioners are dropping dead in the streets during protests demanding their pension which has been held back for months and even years…
What is happening in this country? I wondered, puzzled at how things have escalated to this level.
Mama Uju has whisked Adanna away for their usual week end treats, and I declined to follow, partly because I want to rest at home and because I want just the two of them to be together. This time, they have gone to the Ikeja City Mall, where the little princess will spend most of the day in Play Zone, and by the time they’re home in the evening, Adanna will be fast asleep, having exhausted all her energy.
What kind of Nigeria will be here when she grows up? I asked myself as my eyes move to a framed photograph of her. In the picture, she is fast asleep. Mama Uju had been watching her daughter sleep (like she does so many times) and decided to take a picture of her with her phone. It’s one of her hobbies, snapping away at everything Adanna did, but she said that that particular picture struck her heart because her daughter looked so peaceful and she wished she could have a life as peaceful and as comfortable as her sleep.
I remember how wistful she had been that day, coming home with the framed picture, unwrapping it carefully from the old newspaper and then hanging it on the wall above the television set. Truly, it’s a beautiful photograph. In it, Adanna’s eyes are closed, her rosebud lips relaxed and chubby cheeks glowing. Nothing holds her hair back; it’s scattered around her head in dark, curly wisps.
Does her father ever think of her? Where ever he is, with his family, does he ever wonder if his illegitimate daughter is doing fine? When Mama Uju had broken the news to him, he’d harshly told her to abort the baby and had then revealed that he was married. Mama Uju hadn’t known; Nick Sanderson had hidden his wedding band each time they met.
‘Do your own parents- both real and fake- ever think of you?’ a small voice in my head asked with a hint of mockery.
This voice in my head is my worst enemy, and it’s even more complicated because it belongs to me.
How do you think Mummy and Daddy are doing?
The fact that I still think of my adoptive parents as Mummy and Daddy is something I can never get over. One moment, I’m hating them with every part of me and the next, I’m missing them, missing the people they used to be and the days I used to be their princess right before Daddy began his abuse on me. Those wonderful days I used to sit on his shoulders, arms on the top of his head while he moved around the house with Mummy following behind, ready to catch me in case I fell off.
Why did your real mother dump you, anyway?
I had heard of the story from Mama Uju, after I had been thrown out and the truth about me had come out and hit me like a wrecking ball. Mama Uju had said that Mummy had told her the story after my adoption. I had been discovered in the trash, wrapped in dirty clothes and left to die. My saviour had been a little boy, an orphan who had been scavenging for food. When I asked about the boy, Mama Uju had replied that he had been adopted as well and had moved to another city.
I’d tried and tried to recollect his face, searched my memory and nothing had come up. Afterwards, I’d given up.
Against my will, my mind replays the past years, from a happy little girl to a victim of segzual abuse, to a stranded girl crying on the street and then to a young woman, naked in the arms of an older man, giving in to his fantasies and faking 0rg@zms.
Things happen for a reason, I agree. But what was the reason for what had happened to me? What significance has it brought? Why me, anyway? These thoughts flutter in the darkness of my mind like trapped bats.
You’re an ashawo. Olosho. Akwuña. Or, in modern times, a hoe.
My eyes fill with tears I haven’t shed in a long time and I bite my inner lip to keep them at bay, blinking my eyes furiously. Suddenly I feel exhausted, both physically and mentally. I’m about to lie on the floor and curl myself into a ball when a knock sounds on the door.
“Who is it?” I asked weakly.
“Maduka,” comes the reply, a bit breathlessly.
I open the door to see him, standing tall and looking obviously distressed. From different parts of his upper body, three children peer curiously at me, eyes wide.
“You look so peaceful and calm,” I greeted him with a smile. My tears have disappeared and I’m grateful for his presence.
He half-smiles and manages to move into the sitting room. After dislodging the children, Maduka settles on one of the couches and takes in a deep breath. His eyes look me over and he asks, “Are you okay, Nwanyieze?”
“Of course I am,” I replied quickly, hiding my surprise.
“Good morning, Aunty,” the oldest child, a boy, greets in a serious voice.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” I replied, shaking the hand he holds out.
“I’m Max.”
“Always the go-getter,” Maduka murmurs with a chuckle.
“Pleased to meet you, Max. I’m Nwanyieze.”
“What does it mean?” he asked.
“The king’s wife.” I smiled at the irony of my name. I’m far from being anybody’s wife, not to talk of being a king’s wife.
“So does that mean that you’ve married a king already?” Max asked, interest flashing in his eyes.
“No,” I said with a laugh.
“Will you marry one, then?”
“I don’t think so, love.” I replied
“My Mum says our names follow us.”
I don’t know how to tell him that names are just for identification and don’t determine how we end up in life. My mouth opens and closes, and Maduka comes to the rescue.
“Nwanyieze, we’re inviting you to the beach.”
“Oh, really?”
He gives me a helpless look. “I can’t do this alone.”
The youngest child, a toddler, is trying to climb onto the couch. Maduka gently picks her up and holds her to his chest. Content, she cuddles but turns to look at me.
“Uncle Kaka, let’s go now,” the middle child demanded. This one is a boy of about four years, dressed in a Black Panther costume.
Uncle. Well, that answers your question, I muse inwardly.
“Beg Aunty or else we’re not going, Prince.”
Prince runs up to me and wraps his arms around my knees. This one isn’t wary of anything and he seems more outgoing than his siblings.
“Please, Aunty, let’s go to the beach!” he half-pleads and half-demands in a forceful voice. I’m pretty sure if he were Maduka, he would throw me over his shoulder, put me in the trunk of his car, and drive off to the beach without asking twice.
“Maduka, don’t use these children against me,” I groan.
“Max, beg Aunty, too,” he replied with a smirk.
Max rushed over too and wraps his arms around my waist. “Don’t say no, Aunty Nwanyieze, please.”
“Maduka!” I exclaimed.
“Noel, darling. Go and join Max and Prince.”
Noel, emboldened by her uncle’s command and enticed because her brothers were doing it, slides down from Maduka’s arms and trots to where we are. Max shifts a little for her and soon, her little arms are wrapped around my legs.
“Maduka, I can’t believe this.”
“So are you coming with us? Obviously, you’re doing nothing today because if you were, you would’ve said so.”
“Tell them to stop,” I said, already on the edge of giving in.
“Prince is a really loud crier, you know. When he cries, you’ll think he’ll fall ill. His face puffs up. And Max won’t talk to you for days when he’s mad. Noel, on the other hand, makes her eyes expand to the size of saucers and it’s just heartbreaking to see tears fall out from them.”
“You’re blackmailing me.”
“I know that,” he grins, looking very handsome, leaning forward on my couch and enjoying himself. My couch looks small for him, all long legs and arms.
“I’ll go to the beach with you.”
_____
*Maduka’s POV*
I know something’s wrong.
Throughout the long drive to Oba Elegushi beach, Nwanyieze talks to me and the children, only pausing to stare outside the window for a few minutes at a time. She’s dressed in a white dashiki shirt over a pair of loose khaki shorts, and red flops. Black sunglasses rest on her hair, which is in its usual puff. No make up on her face, and I like it that way.
My growing attraction towards her is becoming more difficult to hide. I’ve always been able to handle the children; this isn’t the first time Somto is dropping them off with me. I didn’t want to spend my week end alone, and I needed to see her once again, hence my pretending to be helpless.
What’s she thinking about? I wonder, glancing at her. Her eyes catch mine and she smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“I haven’t been to the beach in a while,” she told me.
“Good thing I dropped by, then.”
“You just needed a babysitting partner.”
“And some company, too.”
“Wait till you become a father.”
Well, hopefully, you’ll be the mother, I think with a secret smile. I’m not one to beat around the bush, but if what I feel towards this person turns out to be true, then I’m going to try my best to end up with her.
“What’re you smiling about?” she questioned, an eyebrow raised.
“None of your business.”
“You can be so annoying, you know?”
“You’re the only person to tell me that, and, weirdly, I find it very touching.”
“Abeg shift, make I see road,” she huffs. Get out of my way.
“I dey your front?” (Am I obstructing you?)
In the back seat, the children have all fallen asleep. Prince has his head in Max’s lap, a hand on Noel’s car seat. Max sleeps with his head bent sideways and Noel is on her side, a thumb in her mouth.
“They are such beautiful children,” Nwanyieze whispered. “So beautiful and innocent.”
It’s her expression that catches my attention, sad and sorrowful. Suddenly it strikes me that I know nothing about her, how her childhood was, and the events that led to the present Nwanyieze beside me.
“We’re here,” I said.
Immediately, Max opens his eyes and shakes Prince, who shakes Noel’s car seat. The three of them sit up at once.
“Beash?” Noel asked, eyes wide.
“Yess!” Prince exclaimed, rubbing his eyes.
“Finally!” Max throws a fist in the air.
They all speak in unison and Nwanyieze and I laugh.
“Let’s get you changed into your beach wears now,” she told them.
In five minutes, Noel is in her mini yellow one-piece bathing suit and the boys are in trunks. At the gate, I pay the entrance fee and we get into a maruwa, with me at the front seat, to Prince’s annoyance (he had insisted on sitting in the front beside the trider- I call them triders because the maruwa is an advanced tricycle).
“It’s beautiful,” Nwanyieze breathes when we get to the shore.
The water is a blue-green and tipped in white, rolling in waves and bringing with it a lovely, cool breeze. The sand, warm and white, tickles our feet and I see her curling her toes around it.
Why I find it so interesting is besides me.
By her side, Prince is struggling to free himself from her firm grip and run to the water.
For a moment, I stare at her, taking in her quiet smile and the sun directly on her face, making her skin glow.
“Aunty, I want to go and play with the water,” Prince stresses.
“Sure thing, super hero. Will you save me if the water starts carrying me away?” she asked, widening her eyes and putting on her best damsel-in-distress look.
It works not only on Prince, but on Max as well, and both boys yell, “Yes!”
“Good then! Let’s go!”
She quickly reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulls it off, then steps out of her shorts to reveal a deep red one-piece bathing suit.
I am totally unprepared, to say the least.
Her skin is an even, dark chocolate colour. When she bends to put her clothes into the small bag she brought, I see her bare back, smooth and oh-so-tempting.
My mouth suddenly goes dry as cotton.
With a grin in my direction, Nwanyieze runs towards the water, Max and Prince following her and yelling at the tops of their lungs.
“Beash?” Noel coos in my arms, touching my face and pointing towards the water.
“Mmm?” I replied, eyes still on the girl in the red bathing suit.
“Beash, Kaka.” This time, her touch is more like a slap, snapping me out of my reverie.
“Oh. Yes, Noel. Beach.”
Maybe this was such a bad idea. I’d better concentrate. Lord, help your son. Amen.