Page 83 of Cursed Daughters
He pulled her into a hug. “Let’s take it a step at a time. How about you meet my folks. Lay your worries to rest. And then we can decide how to win your mum over.”
“Okay,” she said quietly.
He kissed her, then released her. She felt a chill. “We should get going,” he said.
“Or…we can stay.”
“Come on, lazy bones. Should I carry you?”
She got up. The last time he had tried to carry her, they were both on the floor within seconds. He had found it hilarious. She, on the other hand, could still feel a twinge of pain in her back and the slight shame of being too big to be handled like a ballerina.
He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her nose and her lips. The goodbye was long and gentle. It made her feel a little teary, though there was nothing at all to cry about; except the slight feeling that this was fleeting, and things could change at any moment.
“You okay?”
“I am.”
He kissed the lone tear that trickled down her cheek.
“You sure?”
“Yup.” She poked him. “What will you give me before you go?”
“What will I give you? As in?”
“I want something of yours, to hold on to.”
He raised an eyebrow, but if he thought she was being weird, he said nothing of it. He removed his leather bracelet and handed it over. She fastened it around her wrist.
PART X
Monife
(1999–2000)
I
Mama G perceived it—there was a woman with child in the house. It was a Saturday, warm and dry, with the scent of burning trash wafting over from their neighbours’ compound. Mama G had showed up with a bag full of herbs and potions, but her noisy arrival was largely ignored, and she and Bunmi retired to the west wing to begin their shenanigans.
Mo had quickly forgotten about the mamalawo’s presence in their home. She took Sango for a walk and then sat in front of the computer, staring at the blank page meant to become her résumé. She would have to find a job. She was assisting at her mother’s school, but that couldn’t be her final bus stop. Still, she had no idea what she wanted to do; she could no longer even rustle up the desire to take a photograph. It was a welcome distraction when she heard her mother shouting.
“I want everyone in the east living room. Now!”
They gathered. When Mo walked into the room, Aunty Kemi was already seated on the armchair, the gentle sweetness of her lavender perfume combating the stringent fumes coming from the wanton outdoor pollution. She had removed her wig and placed it tenderly on her lap, and she followed her pacing sister with curious eyes.
Ebun was not far behind her cousin. She looked tired. But then these days she always looked tired. Time had moved forward for her. She was a university graduate with an entry-level role in an accounting firm, in her forever outfit of pencil skirt and blouse. But it was the weekend, and her slim frame was swimming inside a pink and green bubu.
Mama G had her arms crossed over her gigantean breasts, and she was standing in the doorway, assuming the role of guard. No one would be able to enter or leave without Bunmi’s say-so. Mo popped a TomTom in her mouth. She had no idea what was rustling her mother’s feathers, but she assumed it was some ridiculousness. Perhaps Bunmi had finally had a spiritual encounter of some kind; but her mother’s look was black and she kept glaring at the three women before her. She waited a few more minutes for Tolu to arrive and then concluded his presence wasn’t needed anyway.
“Which one of you is pregnant?”
Mo burst out laughing. “Huh?”
“You heard me.”
Mo turned to look at Mama G, who met her eyes squarely. So the mamalawo was at the heart of their current drama. Mo sucked the hard sweet, tasting the menthol and the sugariness, before raising both her hands and saying, “You have not seen me with any man in three years.”
Her mother narrowed her eyes, examined her for a beat, then pivoted to Kemi.
