Page 36 of Cursed Daughters
They all dragged themselves to the centre of the room. Six fists. Tolu lost fair and square. But it was Tolu, so he simply shrugged and returned to his previous position, watching a match he had already seen. She could not fathom what his various girlfriends found so appealing about him. But he didn’t have to worry about a curse—he could afford to waste as many opportunities as he wanted.
Ebun muttered under her breath, stood up and stomped off to the kitchen. Mo heard Tolu chuckle, but chose not to engage. When Ebun returned, she was holding a plate with a leaning tower of sliced agege bread, and under her arm she carried the butter and jam. It would have to do. The boys descended on the bread as if they were sailors lost at sea. GB managed to secure a slice for Mo.
Ebun used a napkin to help with the friction as she struggled to open the jar. Golden Boy offered to help, but she rejected the offer and eventually Oba quietly took it from her and Mo heard the little pop as it gave way. He gave it back to Ebun with a half-smile. Mo waited for her to pass it over, but Ebun was simply staring into the jar.
“Pass the jam jo,” said Tolu.
“We can’t eat it.”
“Jam doesn’t spoil, Ebun.”
“No, it’s not that. There are ants.”
“What?”
Tolu leant over and grabbed the jam jar from Ebun. He looked into it and swore before passing it toMo.
At first glance, the ants could easily have been mistaken for fruit bits in the jam, but no. She could see the little ovals that made up their bodies. They were all dead, sunk in the fruit conserve. She shrugged, grabbed the knife, habitually switched it to her right hand, scooped out the necessary amount of jam and spread it on her bread.
“What the hell are you doing?” squeaked Ebun.
“It’s just protein.” Mo looked up. All the boys were staring at her, with various expressions on their faces, but she was only interested in Golden Boy’s, and he seemed…tantalised?
“They are ants, Mo,” Tolu said, stating the obvious.
She held Golden Boy’s gaze with her own as she sank her teeth into the bread, chewed and swallowed. There was a collective groan, but Golden Boy was laughing.
“Mmm,” she said, “delicious.” Tolu responded with a gagging expression.
“You are out of your mind,” her boyfriend told her. But his tone said he was turnedon.
“You are eating ants?” Her mother was at the doorway. She was dressed in a dark A-line skirt with a full hem and fitted hips; tucked into it was a pleated long-sleeved cream blouse. Her braided hair was pulled into a bun and she carried an accessory that was more briefcase than handbag. She looked every bit the schoolteacher; you could almost forget she was fond of chanting to Yoruba spirits in the nude.
“Well, not by themselves. There’s jam too.”
“What man will want to marry a woman that eats ants?”
“No man,” Tolu replied. Dele nodded in agreement, but GB winked at her.
“Good afternoon, ma,” he said, drawing her mother’s attention to himself.
“Oh. Kalu, you are here.”
“Good afternoon, ma,” the other boys echoed. Bunmi greeted them warmly, asking after their parents, before turning back to her daughter.
“Monife, instead of eating ants, go to the kitchen and cook.”
“But—”
“No buts. Ebun, help her.” She said nothing about Tolu joining them in their labour, which Mo did not fail to notice.
“And for God’s sake, send this dog outside!”
And with that, her mother stormed off, headed to some teachers’ conference, or PTA meeting, or something or other.
“I’m in the mood for beans,” said Tolu.
Mo bared her teeth at him; there were still a few ants between them. He recoiled and she laughed.
