Page 48 of Cursed Daughters
“Why didn’t she go home with her parents?”
“Monife. Come on. Her parents left and she stayed later and hung out. She knows my sisters a bit. It’s no big deal.”
“Right…right…And that’s it?”
“Yes. That’s it. Babe, listen: you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. Look, I gotta go, we’re going out, but I’ll call you later, okay?”
And then the line went dead.
X
He didn’t call later. Or the next day, or the day after that. Finally she broke and dialled his number, but it was his mother who picked up. She considered hanging up, but she would not be a coward. She had nothing to be ashamedof.
“Good afternoon, ma. Can I speak to Kalu, please?”
“Who is this?”
“Monife, ma.”
“Oh.” There was a long pause, and then, “Monife, how are you?” It was Monife’s turn to pause. She had been prepared for a dial tone; what she wasn’t prepared for was warmth. She was certain she shouldn’t trust it. But this was also Golden Boy’s mum, and she did not want to make an enemy of her.
“I am fine, ma. And you?”
“Excellent. Kalu has actually gone to play football with a friend. But I was planning to have lunch and then pick him up. Why don’t you join me?”
“For lunch?”
His mother laughed. She had a gentle laugh. “Yes. I’m a patron of a little café; I am sure Kalu must have told you. I would appreciate if you will join me there. Two o’clock?”
She wanted to say no. What would they talk about? But maybe this was the start of something good. Her mother-in-law-to-be gave her the details of a café in the heart of Ikoyi, and they agreed to meet there.
Mrs. K was late, which somehow didn’t surprise Mo at all. Shewent ahead and ordered a milkshake, and sipped on it slowly. Her nerves were tingling. Her hands felt ice cold.
The café was a charming enough spot. One of those enterprises that was definitely not making any money—the space was too big, the decor expensive and detailed. The air conditioner was blowing freezing-cold air in her face, the waiters were well dressed, but the menu only had a handful of items and half of them were croissants and toasted ciabatta. Besides that, there were only two other parties seated there talking quietly below the gentle-sounding jazz in the background. The café was almost certainly a front for some individual’s “real” business; or a gift from a husband to his bored wife.
The moment Mrs. K walked through the door, the hosts and waiters flocked to her. She looked and smelt of money. She slipped off her sunglasses and put them in their case, then she took her time looking around. Mo raised her hand awkwardly and immediately regretted it. What was it about this woman that made her feel inadequate?
“Was it difficult for you to find the place?” Mrs. K asked as she sat down at the table. The small talk threw her. Before she had a chance to respond, Mrs. K raised her hand slightly, without turning to even look. A waiter scurried to her side.
“Yes, ma. What can I get you?” he said.
She ordered coffee and a pastry with a lofty air. Mo drank her milkshake all the more vigorously.
“This place is such a gem,” Mrs. K told her. “A friend of mine owns it.”
“Oh. That’s…” Mo’s words trailed away. “Nice,” she finished.
Mrs. K nodded. “So, thank you for honouring the invite. Please feel free to order anything you want.”
“Thank you. But this milkshake is fine.”
“Well, let me add it to my bill at least.”
“No thank you, I can pay for it myself.”
