Page 26 of Cursed Daughters
“If you came home more often, you would have seen,” began Ebun.
“There is nothing you could have done, Eniiyi,” Grandma East added quickly. But Eniiyi was already heading towards the west wing, in no hurry to see this new Grandma West, but going to her anyway.
III
The walk to Grandma West’s room felt long and lonely, even with Sango walking by her side. There were a few windows along the hallway, but they were all blocked by the branches and leaves of the courtyard tree, so all that was left were little pockets of light that danced across the floors and walls.
The Falodun house had six bedrooms, for the six daughters belonging to her great-great-grandfather. Three rooms in the east wing and three in the west. The west wing of the house was quiet. She wondered if her grandma was asleep. She knocked on the older woman’s door gently and then she waited. As she knocked again, she looked at the door to her right—Monife’s room. She thought she could feel a cold draught from there. She heard a soft voice and looked away, opening the door to Grandma West’s room and making her way in. Sango knew to wait outside.
The room was dark. It smelled of tobacco. She did not immediately see her grand-aunt, but she guessed she was seated in the corner of the room. She crossed the floor and drew the curtains apart—light flooded the room. She ignored the soft groan from the corner and opened the window; it needed air. And she could see the older woman clearly now.
Grandma West had aged years in the few short months since Eniiyi had last seen her. Her eyes were tinged with yellow, her face was heavily lined. She was seated in her armchair with a blanket draped over her lap. She cocked her head to her side as she took Eniiyi in.
“Nana West, it is good to see you. ?’álàáfíà l?` wà?”
Grandma West opened her mouth and shut it again. Eniiyi held her breath. Would she know her?
“Monife?”
Eniiyi’s heart sank. She should have anticipated this.
“Monife?”
With hindsight, it seemed ridiculous that she hadn’t seen it coming. She was tempted to leave, but she stayed.
“No. It’s me, Grandma. Eniiyi.”
If Grandma West had heard her, she didn’t show it. “Monife, p?`l?´. Where are my glasses?”
Grandma West was looking right at her, but she was seeing a woman who had died over two decades ago. Eniiyi felt as though she were the ghost in the room and Monife the one who was flesh and blood. Grandma West was getting more and more agitated at her silence. Eniiyi watched as the older woman tried to stand. She could hear the grind of every bone, the creak of every joint. She wiped a tear from her cheek, grabbed the glasses that were resting on the dressing table and passed them to her grandmother. Grandma West slipped them on. It made no difference; in that moment, Eniiyi did not exist for her.
“I wish you wouldn’t use your left hand, Monife. How many times do I have to tell you? No man wants to marry a leftie.” Eniiyi stared at her left hand and back at Grandma West.
“Grandma. Grandma. It’s me. Eniiyi.” She had raised her voice, as though she were trying to reach her grand-aunt over a shaky phone connection, but it wasn’t working. She took a steadying breath and tried again, with a gentler, more controlled tone. “Grandma. Eniiyi ló n s?`r?`. Monife ti…Monife ti…”
“Má s? nonsense sí mi!” Grandma West was getting upset; she struggled to sit up. “Má s? nonsense sí mi!” she shouted again, but started coughing. “Get me some water, Monife,” she snapped when she’d got her breath back.
Eniiyi had no response to her dead aunt being asked to fetch adrink, except “Yes, Ma.” She slipped out of her grandmother’s room to get her a glass from the kitchen.
As she walked quickly down the hallway, she noticed the door to her aunt Monife’s room was a little warped, as if it had been damaged by water since she’d last been home. She reached out and put the flat of her hand against the wood, and felt a damp chill. She inadvertently shivered, then turned back to head downstairs. The old house and everyone in it was falling apart.
IV
She found her mother in the kitchen. The aroma of omi ?ran filled the air and she could taste the ata at the back of her throat. Her mother had a habit of using too much pepper in her cooking. Eniiyi watched for a couple of minutes as Ebun deftly diced onions. She tried to get a handle on her emotions before she spoke.
“She called me Monife.”
Her mother paused dicing, but only for a moment. “She is not herself.”
“I get that. But she became seriously agitated when I pointed out that I am not in fact Monife.”
Her mother shrugged. “You are not a child any more. Maybe you should just play along.” She said it as if it were nothing, and did not look back to note how Eniiyi’s mouth became slack, how her pupils dilated and her lips trembled.
“I’m going out.”
“You just got here.”
She didn’t respond. She’d only been back for half a day and already she needed a break. “I won’t be late,” she said quietly, as she left the kitchen.
