Page 64 of Cursed Daughters
And so she told him. The words came out a lot easier than she had imagined. She told him about the woman who was buried the day she was born, the physical similarities between them, even down to the scars on their thighs. She told him about the idea—outwardly believed by some, secretly believed by others—that she was a reincarnation.
“Let me get this straight. They think you are your aunt.”
“Yes.”
“Damn. Is that hard?”
She thought about it. Over the years, she had learnt to tuck the thought away and keep it out of sight. But there were many other days when she would have killed to be a different person, belonging to a different family. The days when she would dance and it would remind them of how Monife would dance; she would sneeze and it would sound like Monife’s high-pitched sneeze; she would get a bad grade and discover Monife had failed that same subject. It was endless.
“You get used to it.”
“Doyouthink you are a reincarnation?”
“Most of the time I don’t. And I try to reassure myself with this,” she said, piling her hair on her head and showing him the light patch of skin on the back of her neck. “I’ve been told it’s unique to me.” He touched her lightly there and she couldn’t help but shiver. He pulled her into a hug, and she relaxed into his arms. He smelt like wood and coconut. “But Zubby, sometimes I swear I can feel her.”
VIII
The water was cool, soothing the prickling heat of the sun on her skin. She was the only one taking advantage of the pool, which was by far the way she preferred it. She could pretend no one else existed; it was just her and the water.
It was funny now to think how much she had resisted acquiring this particular skill. Struggling to breathe underwater, spluttering, eyes red, hair wet, limbs weary. But now she felt most at peace when she was parting water.
There was a shadow in the pool; a dark shape moving behind her. It surprised her that she hadn’t noticed someone climbing down the ladder, or diving in. She flipped her body and swam underwater. The other swimmer was a woman, but she was not wearing swimwear. She was in clothing that was now plastered to her body. There was no rhythm to the way she was moving in the water. Then the movement briefly stalled…before she powered towards Eniiyi.
Eniiyi felt fear squeeze her heart. Suddenly water rushed into her throat and then her lungs. Everything she knew about treading water, about surviving, flew out the window. She was going to die. The terror was clawing at her brain; but her muscle memory began to kick in. She had mastered the water, she was not going to drown; her body would do what she willed.
She rose to the surface, kicking frantically and gulping in air. Her throat was burning, but she was in no danger of drowning. Once she had calmed herself, she looked around for the figure in the water, but there was no one there.
IX
She knew what she had to do. The dreams were traumatic enough, but the sleepwalking, the incident at the pool…ever since she’d returned from the beach, she’d felt haunted by Monife. There was something she was missing; but she wasn’t going to get anything from the women in the house, so she waited for the one person who might talk.
Uncle Tolu visited on the twenty-eighth of each month, like clockwork. In their heyday, Grandma West and Grandma East would cook up a storm for him, and he would sit at the head of the table and regale them with little anecdotes about his life. On these visits, Eniiyi had generally stayed out of his way. She didn’t dislike him; in fact, she thought she understood him. He was uncomfortable in her presence; he would look at her, then look away. He had never brought up his sister’s name, but he didn’t have to. His body language did the talking. She stayed away to spare them both the discomfort.
The day of his visit rolled around, and she heard her uncle and his wife exchanging greetings with Grandma East at the door. Ebun would have saved some mundane task for this day; she did her best to avoid her cousin’s visits. Eniiyi listened to the sound of Aunty Ashley’s stiletto heels on the terrazzo tiles as the couple made their way to the west wing, where they would spend an obligatory hour with a woman who was beginning to forget who they were.
She slipped down to the pantry and selected a bottle of port. She had never witnessed Tolu reject the sweet wine. She collectedcoasters and wine glasses and arranged them on the dining table. When the visit was over, Grandma East would settle her sister in for an afternoon nap and then go to take her own. Her uncle and aunt would head to the dining room to drop the basketful of fruit that they had brought; and she would be there, waiting.
Aunty Ashley appeared first—blonde, with platinum highlights in a messy bun. She wore a pink blouse and brown culottes. Uncle Tolu appeared in ultra-hippie mode—a full beard, patterned cotton trousers and a V-neck cream shirt. He blinked when his eyes found Eniiyi.
“Ah,” he said.
“Good evening, Uncle, Aunt.”
“Eniiyi,” began Ashley, “you look well.” They shared a quick hug, then Ashley nudged her husband, in the hope that he would say more than “ah.”
“Yes. Yes. You do look well. How is your uni experience going?”
“I have graduated, Uncle.”
“Good, good.”
“Oh congrats!” Ashley said. “It was your master’s, right? We will have to get you some sort of graduation gift…”
Her uncle looked as if he was readying to go, but Ashley again nudged him. He placed the fruit basket on the table, dipped his hand into his pocket and brought out a couple of crisp thousand-naira notes. Eniiyi took the money, thanked him and slipped them into her pocket. “Perhaps you can have a drink with me?” She nodded to the port on the table.
Aunty Ashley answered before her husband could. “That would be lovely, Eniiyi,” she said, sitting down.
Tolu proceeded to open the bottle whilst Ashley started to talk about a recent trip to Argentina. They were always travelling—they had money, and no children, so they could do whatever they wanted. Eniiyi suspected that if not for Grandma West, they would never see her uncle.
