Page 56 of Cursed Daughters
XVI
She found it hard to sleep whilst he was away. When he had travelled to England, he would call every day without fail. This was a shorter absence, but she felt it more keenly. There was no way to reach him in the village. She was left to imagine what was unfolding, and she could imagine a lot—the occasional glances between Amara and Golden Boy, the voiced approval from the mothers, the matchmaking that would be taking place.
But she was not powerless.
Never had she felt more intently the gathered presence of all the women who had resided in the Falodun home, and those who had come before them. There was Feranmi, who was cursed because of her husband; Yemisi, who was accused of being a witch; Yetunde, who was never even courted; Tobi, who was despised by her in-laws; Afoke, who was unstable; Fikayo, whose health bore the blame; her mother, who had loved in vain; and Aunty Kemi, who was the only one truly giving the curse a run for its money. They were in the hallways, looking out from photographs, whispering to her and appearing before her in dreams.
She opened the drawer of knick-knacks. She poured herself a glass of malt mixed with the powder. She had been taking it every day since she had last seen him, though she had not been able to follow the second instruction that Mama G had given her. But she did not want to lose Golden Boy. She took a biro and wrote his name on the slip of textured paper, then traced it over and over because the paper seemed to resist the ink. Then she added his surname sothere was no confusion in the spirit world, and his middle name for further security.
She folded the paper once, twice, three times, and then retrieved a pad, took it out of the packaging and pinned the paper to its centre. It wasn’t her time of the month yet, but she was expecting it in a day or two, so she slipped the pad into her bag.
She was no better than a witch. But there would be time for shame later, when she was safely in his arms.
PART VI
Eniiyi
(2024)
I
She was underdressed in a graphic tee and jeans, but she hoped her massive afro and gaudy cosmetic jewellery elevated her overall look. She trailed Funsho through the throng of dancing bodies. They were at a club. She had only accepted the invite because it was a break from the routine that had become her life, and not because she had any particular desire to be in the middle of a bunch of sweaty strangers. Most of the girls were in high heels and mini dresses, and she accepted that she looked out of place. She saw a few people she knew and exchanged waves and brief, sweaty hugs, but she tried not to stray too far from Funsho’s side. It was packed, but eventually they found a wall to lean against.
“You sure you don’t want to dance?” Funsho said, almost pleading. He was tapping a foot and wining his waist, as though the music had taken possession of his body.
She smiled and shook her head. “Maybe later.”
She was a confident dancer, but she didn’t feel like drawing any attention to herself. She determined to spend her outing watching—girls grinding on guys, taking selfies, filming TikToks or updating their Snapchat feeds. She had a page, like most other people her age, but she was a consumer, not a creator. She was content to live on the fringes. She wondered what a therapist would make of that.
Then a voice said, “I finally found you.”
Later, she would wonder how she knew she was the one being spoken to. She didn’t recognise the voice; but she turned and found herself transfixed by his eyes—the same umber eyes that had staredat her unblinking after he’d taken the long-awaited breath; eyes that were currently fenced off by a pair of rectangular glasses. He held her gaze and she felt her mouth go dry. Something shifted inside of her, and she was tempted to reach out for balance. His expression was sombre, almost stern; but then it softened into a smile, and she thought it was the most gorgeous smile she had ever seen.
“I was starting to think you weren’t real. No one seemed to know who you were.”
She tried to think of a smart or witty response, but her mind drew a blank. “Perhaps you dreamt me,” she said. That would have todo.
He laughed then and reached out to touch her, even though she had not invited him to; but now she wondered if this was exactly what she had wanted, as he gently rested his palm on her wrist. Her body tightened in response and she parted her lips to take in some air. She couldn’t understand why this stranger was affecting her so intensely.
“No. No. You are real.”
“And you are?” The stranger looked up, surprised at Funsho’s question, and withdrew his hand. She had forgotten Funsho was there. In fact, all the bodies in the room had melted away the moment he caught her in his gaze. She cleared her throat. She felt a little silly.
“Zubby. I should have said. My name is Zubby.”
Zubby.
And then he turned to her expectantly. But it was Funsho who replied.
“I’m Funsho. And this is Eniiyi.”
“Eniiyi,” Zubby repeated, not looking at Funsho. Her name seemed to gather more meaning when spoken by him. “Eniiyi. I’ve been wanting to thank you.”
“De nada. I’m just glad I was able to help.”
“You did more than help.”
“Oh! Oh!” cried Funsho. “You’re the guy that was drowning.”He seemed relieved to have pieced together the mystery unfolding before his eyes. Eniiyi was grateful he could not hear the way her heart was beating. She resisted the urge to press her palm to her chest to steady it. “You look like you came through that experience unscathed.”
