AMID SECRETS - CHAPTER 29
*Nwanyieze’s POV*
There is a bit of a problem around Maryland junction. A car had driven into another, disfiguring the trunk of the one in front. Both drivers are yelling at each other, their vehicles parked in the middle of the road and obstructing the traffic flow. Horns are blaring, shouts are everywhere, but the two men are ignorant of these. It takes us almost thirty minutes to leave that area.
All around, Lagos nightlife flourishes: different suya spots have sprung up, tastefully dressed ladies are walking the streets and getting into flashy cars, the taillights of different kinds of vehicles light up the area. It feels familiar and comforting, as this is what I’m used to. Maduka is more of an indoors person at night. He would prefer a night at home, comfortable in his sitting room with me curled up beside him.
The image feels right, and I smile.
My sweet Maduka, what would you do if you found out I’m a daughter of the night? That I’ve spent nights underneath men much older than you are, that I’ve given in to their fantasies and collected money in return?
I don’t realise I’m crying until my tears seep into the corner of my mouth and I taste the salt. Even as I’m preparing to come down from the car in front of the gate that leads into my yard, they are still flowing. I quickly wipe them, thank the driver, and step out.
The street lamp over the gate has been broken for days now, and so it is almost dark except for the light coming off small shops on the street. I stand for a while on the small cemented slope in front of the gate and hug myself, staring at nothing in particular. There is a bulky-looking motorcycle parked a few metres from where I stand, and I wonder whether the owner does not know that these are the streets of Lagos, that his power bike could disappear before you could say “Eko.”
“I wonder what she’s thinking about.”
The voice makes me whirl so fast I almost lose my balance on the slope. I squint in the darkness as a figure comes into view. Dark clothes, a beard, a wicked smile, a diamond stud in his ear lobe.
“How-?”
“Magic,” he tells me, pointing towards the machine.
“What is it, now?” I demanded, angry and scared at the same time.
“Maduka, huh? Jeez. I never expected that.”
When I don’t reply, he asks, “Are you just f-__-king him? Because he seems so smitten by you.”
I still don’t answer; I move closer to the gate. If I could just slip through, run upstairs, he won’t follow. But he predicts my move and like a cat, sleek and agile, Saheed blocks my path.
“Not so fast, Queen.”
“Saheed, I don’t understand what you want from me. I’m not your type-”
______
*Saheed’s POV*
“How would you know, my little queen?”
In the semi darkness, I can still trace the outline of her face. It is a face I’ve oftimes dreamed of, a face that occupies the forefront of my mind, a face that I’ve thought of with different expressions, with pleasure being the most preferred.
Why am I so drawn to her? Why do I feel fury, this big fire in my chest that thr_@tens to explode? And why, in the blazes does she just make things hard for me, a certain body part included?
“Saheed, please this isn’t the right time. I’m exhausted.”
“Now wouldn’t you be?” I ask. So it is Maduka she’s chosen over me, despite all I have to offer. Isn’t it strange, that I want this slip of a girl who has probably been with more men than I can count? Isn’t it even stranger, that she rejects me?
Nobody rejects me.
Maybe that’s why I’m more determined.
“I know he doesn’t know.” It was in her voice, in her eyes, in the way she’d left Maduka’s place.
“Are you going to tell him?” she demands.
The blunt question catches me off guard, and I laugh at the sheer audacity of this girl. “Why would I do that, now? It’s all beginning to be fun. I dropped by at the right time.”
She remains silent, staring at me and waiting for me to move out of her way. The challenge in her eyes, it makes me stir in a familiar way. I want to grab her and take her far away where no one can reach us. I want to bend her will to mine, take that stubbornness away from the firm set of her full mouth and those almond-shaped eyes. I want to spend my money on her, to see her in something luxuriously lacy that I’ll still end up tearing. Red lace would contrast so nicely against her dark skin.
I’m running mad. Saheed, you don dey craze.
“I wonder, what will happen if he finds out, though?”
“He’ll leave me,” she says simply, like she’s rehearsed those words over and over.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, my love.” I give in to the urge, reach out, and pull her against myself. The contact almost makes me feel light headed. She is soft and warm. I’ve never paid attention to people’s scents, but hers wafts up to my nose, coconut oil and something I can give no name.
I don’t think I’ll want another woman anymore.
She seems to realise she won’t free herself unless I let her, and so she stays still in my arms. I can tell her mind is far off, away from me while her body stands right there. But I know she knows I hold the power to break her happiness. A few words, and Maduka will probably h@?? her forever.
And I know she won’t deny it, either.
“You’re a paradox,” I muse. “A prostitute, and yet so cultured, so honest I can read your face and know what you’re thinking.”
“I was a prostitute.”
“Oh? Given your life to Christ?”
“Saheed, regardless of what you think, you’re not getting me into your bed.”
“Trust me, you’ll come crawling,” I whisper into her ear. “And wearing something lacy.”
I leave her standing alone in front of her gate. My crotch feels tight, my senses are heightened, the grin on my face refuses to fade through out the ride to my island estate. I have never backed down from a challenge.
Now, this should get interesting.
I imagine that the hum of the engine underneath me is the Mõ@? of pleasure from her, from the Queen who thinks she can reject me so easily and move on.
Toh, I’m moving with you. Three can play a game, but not all the players need to know they’re
______
*Nwanyieze’s POV*
My dreams plague me that night. They are full of sobs, curses, of thr_@ts and declarations of love in soft voices. I feel everything in my dreams, fear and pain, love and h@??, regret and guilt.
When I finally pull myself back to reality, half-blind in the darkness, my old singlet is soaked with sweat. Adanna is in her mother’s room and so I’m alone; I’m grateful for that. I swing myself off the bed and walk out of my room, not bothered about the darkness because this is a familiar routine.
In three minutes I have helped myself to a glass of water, and I walk slowly back to my room. Turning on the light, I rummage inside my box for some ankara material.
Might as well get to work, then, I think to myself, knowing that sleep is a luxury I cannot afford anymore for today. As I work, my mind replays the latest events. Maduka’s unfinished story, Saheed’s smirk, Jide’s obvious embarrassment. Saheed, from the little I know about him, can be as relentless as an assassin; it is obvious he won’t let me have a moment’s peace.
And what do I do now? Should I tell Maduka everything?
I try to conjure up his face, sneering at me with the knowledge of my past in his eyes. It is difficult, because all he’s ever looked at me with is tenderness in his eyes, like I’m all he sees. His behaviour with me, his ease, makes it seem like he’s known me forever.
How would it feel, to see him sneer at me? To hear him call me a prostitute? To even hear my name from his lips after that, my name which is the greatest irony of all?
Nwanyieze.
I scoff, then give a little, mirthless laugh.
Whoever named me was onto some secret joke.
Day breaks three hours later, and with Mama Uju and Adanna still in bed, I brush my teeth, pull on my buba, tie a scarf, and start cleaning the house. My eyes hurt, but I know I can’t sleep. I work with a vengeance, sweeping, scrubbing floors, dusting and removing non-existent cobwebs. It is like I’m trying to purge myself, to cleanse myself, but deep down, I know that the stain can never be removed.
A knock at the front door startles me, and I look up from the sitting room floor I’m scrubbing to the wall clock on the wall behind the television.
9:30.
Wiping my hands on my buba, I move towards the door and ask, “Who is it?”
“Open the door.”
The door flies open, and I’m suddenly breathless, my hands nervously holding handfuls of my buba at my sides. His eyes run over me, then back to my face, searching. He reaches out for me and pulls me into a hug, assailing me with the clean smell of soap and himself.
“What a surprise,” I manage.
“I was worried,” he murmurs. “And I had a bad dream.”
“You could have called.”
“Nothing bad with wanting to see you.”
“What did you dream about?”
He sighs. “You-”
I hear him swallow, I feel him go tense.
“-died. And it was my fault.”
I touch my lips to his briefly. He sighs, and I can see that he relaxes slowly. “I’m not dying soon. At least not 50 years from now,” I joke.
“50 years by your side; not a bad idea,” he chuckles.
My stomach flips over, my heart skips a beat.
“I really hope you’re alright,” he says in a serious voice. “I could tell Saheed’s presence bothered you.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, remembering how Saheed had trapped me in his embrace and how I had stood there, too helpless to fight him. “He did ask me out before he left and I turned him down. He just wasn’t expecting us to…”
“He’d better get used to it,” Maduka says, his voice a bit rough now. “If he troubles you, I don’t want you keeping it from me. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
Mama Uju calls me from inside. “Invite Maduka for breakfast,” she adds, “I’m frying plantain.”
“Good thing I dropped by,” he whispers into my ear, making my spine tingle. His eyes are brighter now. To my utmost surprise, his tongue flicks out and touches my earlobe. The contact makes me squeal and jump backwards, and he gives me a grin full of mischief.
“I’ve always wanted to do that.”
I am at loss for words, and so I step back into the living room and he follows, his eyes never leaving mine. It is sort of predatory, the way he follows, but there is amusement in his eyes and that grin on his lips.
Adanna ruins the moment by launching herself out of nowhere and flying up his leg, yelling, “Uncle M!” nonstop.
“Princess!” He replies, surprised.
“Will you eat dodo, eh Uncle M?”
“Of course I will. Everyone loves dodo.”
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*Maduka’s POV*
Look at her.
Dressed in probably six yards of chiffon- scarf included- and smelling of detergent and sweat from the cleaning she’d obviously been doing.
Still beautiful. Still my baby girl.
Yesterday’s visit from Saheed had gotten under her skin, and I’m beyond sure that somehow, Saheed had said something to her in my sitting room that had set her off. Or maybe she was just uncomfortable because she didn’t expect to ever see him again after turning him down?
Adanna demands my attention again and I oblige her. We are seated on stools at the balcony, enjoying our fried plantain, akamu with milk and sugar, and the cool, morning breeze.
“Can I draw on your plaster?”
“Its all yours, princess.”
She scrambles off her small stool and runs into the flat.
“You’re spoiling this my pikin,” Mama Uju says with a laugh.
“Who wouldn’t?”
Nwanyieze has been a bit silent since we started our meal, and has taken to keeping her eyes on her bowl of akamu instead. This bothers me, but Adanna bursts out of the flat with a big case full of about forty colouring pencils of different types.
“Who is spoiling this pikin?” I query her mother, laughing.
Mama Uju shakes her head, but allows Adanna to kiss her cheek after the little girl announces to me that her Mummy got her the set a few days ago.
After breakfast, I remain on the balcony with Adanna, who has decided to draw little hearts of all colours on my cast.
“Uncle M?”
“Yes?”
She looks around, then whispers, “Will you marry Sister Nwa?”
I almost laugh but the seriousness on her precious face stops me.
“I would love that,” I tell her frankly.
“I wish my Mummy and my Daddy married,” she says regretfully. “I have not seen my Daddy.”
I’m completely clueless on what to tell this little wise woman, and so I pull her into a hug and she wraps her small arms around me.
“When I grow up I’ll go and look for him,” she tells me. “And then I’ll tell him to come and marry my Mummy.”
It’s more complicated than you think, princess, I tell her silently.
It dawns on me that I’m the only male figure Adanna has known, to the best of my knowledge. I know her mother always keeps her busy, taking her out most days, but I’m sure her friends at school mention their fathers and it’s got her thinking about hers.
My mind wanders to Nwanyieze. What had her adoptive father been like?
Mama Uju appears at the door, and tells Adanna that it’s time for her morning bath. The little girl solemnly packs up her colouring pencils, gives me one last hug, and follows her mother inside. My cast is now pretty, with hearts and rainbows and blue clouds.
Nwanyieze emerges as I admire Adanna’s work.
“Did you miss me?” she asks coyly.
“I’m even missing you in advance.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Only God knows how many girls you have deceived with this your sweet mouth.”
“You think my mouth is sweet?”
“I’m sure you know.”
“Taste it and tell me.”
She suppresses the big grin that spreads itself across her face. It pleases me that I have this effect on her.
“Go out with me tonight,” I tell her.
Let’s go out; let me touch you. Not as I’d like to, but at least not where Mama Uju might hit me over the head with a wooden spoon.
“What are you smiling about?”
“Is it your smile?”
She gives me a mock hiss and crosses her legs. I once again envy the chiffon for being so close to those slender legs, for being able to brush against them with every move.
“Go out with me tonight,” I repeat, waiting for her reaction.
She seems to sense a change in my tone, because her tongue runs across her lips and her toes curl. And suddenly her hands want to be busy, smoothing the chiffon material and stuffing her fat twists back underneath her scarf. Then one of them is rubbing her eye like something just got into it. Through it all, I watch and smile secretly.
“Why?” she asks, trying to sound nonchalant, but I detect the change in her, too. Her voice is lower, her eyes are blinking more than usual, and that tongue is flicking out again to wet her lips.
I muse about how I could go through a day and have like 5 different Nwanyiezes in one person.
Quiet dinner, just the both of us. Maybe on the island, maybe at GRA Ikeja. Maybe some Chinese food for the sake of adventures, or maybe a homemade meal in my house, but I just need her there, close by. My dream must have intensified this need; I just want to be around her as much as I can.
“What are you thinking about, Maduka?”
I snap out of my thoughts and get to my feet. She does the same, her full height barely passing my shoulder. I move towards the stairs, and she follows. The narrow spaces are empty at the moment, and given some privacy, I take her hand in mine, and kiss the inside of her palm. She takes in a sharp breath, her eyes widen.
“Dinner tonight? No, scratch that. I want you all to myself this evening. From 5pm.”
And forever, too.
She seems to think seriously about this, but I feel her hand shake. “How can I think seriously when you’re assaulting my hand like that? Yes, I’m all yours this evening.”
“Perfect,” I tell her, extending my kisses to her wrist, and then the inside of her elbow, before placing the last one on her lips.
“Bye, Maduka.”
I love how breathless she sounds, saying my name.
_____
*Nwanyieze’s POV*
I’m telling him tonight.
The mere thought of it makes my stomach churn and my eyes water. I’m tempted to just call things off with Maduka instead, but I know I can’t because that will ki|| me, and even before I’m done dying, Maduka would relentlessly pursue me until I finally confessed, leading us back to square one.