Page 99 of Cursed Daughters
“Zubby. Please.”
“And your name, ma?”
She gave him her name, and he glanced down at a sheet on his board before belting an instruction to whoever was in charge of the gates. They opened as if by magic. The car was waved in, and they drove to the house.
“Me I know say the owner don steal government money finish,” remarked the driver as she stepped out of the car. And then he was gone, leaving her no time to reassure him that Zubby’s parents owned private businesses. The money was probably as clean as it was going to get.
The house was gorgeous, all sleek lines and massive windows. The one time Zubby had mentioned his childhood home, he’d casually said it was “nice”; he hadn’t done it justice. It looked like the house of a Hollywood celebrity. As she took the three wide steps to the door, it opened and Zubby stood before her. He looked relieved, as if he had been unsure that she would show up. He took her hand and squeezedit.
“I am glad you are here.”
“Me too,” she said, though her heart was thumping and there was sweat running down her back. Each step forward into the house was only increasing her nerves. She felt faint. The floors were marble and the ceiling was high. Her head moved around as though on a swivel to take in this painting, that sculpture—she found the art vibrant and distinctive. She followed him past three doors, and then he opened one on the left.
“This is the pink room. They host the important guests here.” He winked at her.
The pink room was more cream than pink. The textured paint was cream, as were the rugs, the curtains and the sofas. However, there were hints of blush in the cushions, in the subtle pattern in the fabric of the curtain and in the glow that came from the light.But by far the most noticeable aspect of the pink room was the staircase that led to a mezzanine, which held a gorgeous library that went all the way around. How had he never mentioned this library?
He was staring at her. She turned to him and smiled.
“Has your boyfriend told you how stunning you are lately?”
“It has been a few hours, I think.”
“You are stunning.” She gave him a slight bow of her head, acknowledging the compliment. And she was about to tell him what a beautiful specimenhewas when he said, “Wait for me? I’ll go get my parents.”
“You’re leaving me?”
“I won’t be long.” He gave her a kiss on her forehead and then left the room.
She sat down on one of the plush leather sofas and waited. After ten minutes, she stood to better examine the picture of the family that hung on one of the walls—Zubby’s mother and sister were the epitome of elegance seated on high-backed armchairs, and standing behind them, Zubby and his father posed with identical smiles. They looked alike.
She heard the door open and spun around. Zubby’s dad was standing in the doorway.
“Good afternoon,” she said in greeting. He took a step forward, hand already reaching out to welcome her…and then he froze, staring at her with eyes like saucers.
He was a handsome man; age lent him an elegance that Zubby did not have. He was wearing a cream polo shirt and linen pants. His hair was closely shaven and he had a five o’clock shadow that was peppered with grey. And where Zubby’s eyes were the colour of clay, his father’s shone like the sun. Skin, eyes: the man was golden. But she wasn’t enjoying being pinned under his unwavering gaze.
“Monife?”
Laughter bubbled up inside her. Perhaps she was still dreaming.Even here, she was tethered to her aunt. She felt a headache coming on. She sighed, gathered herself. “No. I’m the long shadow she left.”
“Come out into the light,” he told her. Did his voice tremble?
She hadn’t realised she was partly in shadow. She stepped forward, pausing when one of the little pink spotlights was above her head. She heard him suck in his breath.
“Who are you?”
“Eniiyi. My name is Eniiyi.”
“You’re Zubby’s girl.”
“Yes.”
“God in heaven,” he whispered.
“I’m guessing you knew Monife?”
He laughed, but it sounded sad. “Knew her? I loved her.”
