Page 46 of Cursed Daughters
“I have. Over and over. The woman is relentless.”
“What the fuck?”
“I know. It is messed up,” he said, turning to face her. “But look, I am just going to meet her so I can tell Mum that it’s a no-go area. And then she can get off my back.”
“And what if you’re into her?” pressedMo.
“Monife, which part of ‘I love you’ don’t you understand? Tell me, so I can break it down for you.”
“What’s her name?”
“Amara.”
She stared at her feet, willing herself not to cry or punch him.
“Mo, look at me.” She reluctantly looked up. His sombre expression lynched her heart. “I told you so there would be no secrets between us. I don’t want you overreacting. There is nothing there for me. I have you.”
“So when is this meeting?” she asked, leaning away from him as he tried to pull her into a hug.
“Umm…well…that’s the other thing. Those are my dinner plans. Her family are coming tonight.”
“Tonight?!” She wanted to scream at him, but this wasn’t the time. The last thing she wanted was for him to recall her insulting his ancestors whilst engaged in a tête-à-tête with a young woman who met his mother’s approval. She took a few deep breaths instead.
“Mo?”
“This is all a bit much for me, Golden Boy.”
“I know. I know, babe. And I’m sorry. All I can say is it’ll be over soon and then that’ll be the end of it.”
“Will it? Or will your mum just bring around another girl, and then another?”
“Do you trust me?”
“I do, but—”
“No buts. Do you trust me?”
She sighed. “Yes.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about. There is nothing to worry about.”
She nodded. She had always been able to trust Golden Boy; why would this time be different? All would be well. This was just a little bump in the road.
IX
That night, she found it hard to sleep. She could hear the light buzzing of a mosquito in the darkness.
NEPA had cut the power again, so she sat up, felt for the matches on her table and lit the oil lamp. Her back was drenched with sweat, even though all she had on was a camisole and shorts.
She could hear low chanting coming from her mother’s room, but she did not have the energy to reel her back from whichever portal she thought she’d opened. She thought about going for a walk in the garden; perhaps it would be cooler outside.
She heard the buzzing again. She clapped her hands and then opened them, examining her palms. No mosquito. She would spend the next fifteen minutes trying to take the insect out, and in between she would think about the curse—about her ancestor Feranmi, and the generations of broken women who came after her. But surely she wasn’t making the same mistakes. Those women had chosen the wrong partners for the wrong reasons. This was different. Kalu was a good man and he loved her. She had already figured out what their future would be. They would marry and finally have mind-blowing sex; they would travel the world—no kids for the first five years, because they were young, free and needed all that time to explore themselves.
She wished she could call him, but the house phone would wake his entire household. She needed to hear his voice, to be reassured that the dinner with this Amara girl had been uneventful. Or to have him wrap his arms around her and promise her for ever.
The mosquito was determined, but so was she. She suddenly saw it flutter by her in the soft glow of the oil lamp. She waited till it landed on her thigh. She gave it a few moments to settle in; and then she slapped her thigh hard and fast.
This time when she looked at her palm, there was blood.
