Chapter XV
XV
Golden Boy arrived with flowers.
Perhaps she should have been suspicious then. Aunty Kemi had always warned that if a man came bearing gifts, he had something to apologise for. And she would know.
But the truth was, it wasn’t beyond Golden Boy to do this out of sheer thoughtfulness. She collected the flowers and gave him a small smile.
“I should be the one getting you flowers after the way I behaved.”
He took her free hand and squeezed it. “We both messed up. I should have been more sensitive to how the whole ish was making you feel. But these flowers aren’t about that.” He planted a kiss on her forehead. “Happy anniversary.”
“What?” She did the calculation quickly in her head. “Our anniversary isn’t for another month…”
“It’s the anniversary of the first time we set eyes on one another.”
She laughed. “You should have told me we were marking it.”
“We are marking it,” and he pulled her into a kiss. She felt safe and warm in his arms. Surely everything was okay. “Your hair is out. It smells good.”
“Thanks.”
He clapped his hands together. “So what’s on the agenda today? The beach? A buka? The waterside?”
“Can we just…stay here? Play cards or something.”
“You sure?”
“Yea.”
So they did. They hung out in the living room, on the sofa, with his arm wrapped around her waist and her head on his shoulder.
And her family, for once, made themselves scarce; as though they sensed that she needed the privacy.
He smelt freshly showered. She lifted his hand and pressed it to her lips. Then she bit him.
“Hey!”
“Relax, it’s a love bite.”
“I didn’t realise I was dating a vampire.”
She wished the moment would last for ever. That she could hold on to him till the end of time. It was so quiet here with him. But Golden Boy stretched and she knew he would leave soon.
“By the way,” he said, almost a little too casually, “my uncle’s funeral is next week, so I’ll be going to the village for a few days.
” It was his grand uncle, who had paid his mother’s way through school.
She owed him a massive debt. They would send him off in style.
An invitation for Monife was notably absent.
“Must you go?” she pouted.
“It’s my mother’s uncle, Mo.”
“Fine.” And she held out her hand. “What will you give me?” He smiled at her and removed his watch, handing it over. She slipped it on and twisted her wrist this way and that before looking up at him. “I demand a greater toll.”
“Oh! You demand, do you?”
He thought about it for a moment, then whipped out a marker from his pocket, taking off the cap and pushing up the sleeve of her top. “What shall I sketch?”
“A bird,” she replied, picking the first thing that came to her mind. “Will Amara’s…will Amara’s family be at the funeral?”
“Maybe. Her mum and my mum have decided they are best friends. So…maybe.”
“So Amara will be there too.”
“I haven’t asked.”
She put a lid on the emotions bubbling up inside her. She hated when he played this game—the “I’m too innocent to see what’s happening” game. It was getting old.
“Have you seen her since? Since we hung out?”
He paused, for a beat. “Once. Her car broke down on Adeyemi Lawson.”
“Why didn’t she call her father?”
“Our house was just around the corner, Mo. It wouldn’t have made sense to disturb her dad.”
“You don’t know shit about cars,” she snapped.
“I took a driver with me. Look, I get that you are upset…”
“Oh. You do, do you?”
“…but I was just helping a friend out.”
She said nothing. He came to her and lifted her chin, staring into her soul with his big browns. She felt her eyes water and blinked back the tears. When had she become this person? He frowned gently.
“What would give you peace? Would you rather I never speak to her again?”
Yes! Yes! It was what she wanted to say, but the words that came out were “No. Of course not.”
He kissed her on the forehead and then released her. She felt a chill come over her. “I should get going,” he said.
“No, no, wait. Let me just…let me get some water. To cool us off.”
“Nah, I’m good. I’ll just head.”
“What about malt? My mum bought some because I told her you love it.”
He smiled and settled back into the couch. “Well, in that case…”
—
She hadn’t been planning to give him Mama G’s powder. After she’d got home, she’d tossed it into her dresser, swore never to think about it again. But she could feel him slipping away from her; what else was she meant to do?
She quickly ran through the open courtyard to the west wing, opened the drawer, retrieved the powder, took it to the kitchen and poured it into a glass of malt.
She stirred vigorously, so the powder would dissolve.
Then she wiped the sweat off her brow, took a couple deep breaths and carried the drink to the east living room.
He took a sip. “Perfect,” he said, a little malt moustache on his top lip.