Chapter IV
IV
“Are you nervous?” Eniiyi asked Zubby as they walked together hand in hand in Freedom Park. They still had time before the play was due to start, so he offered to buy her shawarma and they sat at a plastic table in front of the kiosk.
“No…Should I be?”
“Just follow the rules and you’ll be fine.”
“Rules?”
“Nod to whatever Grandma West says. She’s got dementia and it’s easier for everyone just to agree with her. And never look her in the eye—she dabbles in the dark arts.”
“Sure,” he said, laughing.
“Okay o. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. As for Grandma East, she will probably flirt with you and then fall asleep halfway through the meal. So you shouldn’t have to worry about her.”
“Am I allowed to flirt back?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Feel free. But know Grandma East takes no prisoners.”
“Ah. Well, I suppose after this, you’ll have to come to meet my parents.”
“There’s no rush.”
“Isn’t there?”
She didn’t know how to respond to that, and he was looking at her so intently.
“And your mum? Anything I should know?”
“Mum is…She can be a tough cookie. But don’t stress it. If you are polite, she won’t have much to say.”
“Right.”
She stuffed the rest of the shawarma into her mouth, and then ruffled in her bag, bringing out a navy-blue box and sliding it over to him.
“What’s this?” Zubby asked.
“A gift.”
“And the occasion?”
“Huh.” She raised her finger to her lips and paused for a beat. “Let’s call it ‘gift Tuesday.’ ”
He smiled and opened the box. She watched as his eyes lit up. He removed his glasses and then slipped on the ones she had bought for him.
“Whoa! How did you get my prescription?”
“A woman doesn’t reveal her secrets.” And she laughed as the lenses morphed from light to dark.
—
That Sunday, Zubby arrived early. He was wearing a cream button-down shirt and army-green trousers. He had added cufflinks and his new glasses.
“Looking good, Z,” Eniiyi told him as she led him to the east living room and settled next to him on the couch. “Relax,” she whispered, putting her hand on his thigh to still his jiggling leg and squeezing.
Her mother walked into the living room carrying a tray of tea and biscuits.
She was talking as she walked, something about wanting Eniiyi and Zubby to herself for an hour before the grandmas appeared.
Zubby stood to help, and her mother looked up, a wide smile on her face, but then the smile was gone and the tray was falling to the floor.
Eniiyi watched the tea hit the cream carpet.
She looked up at her mother, whose hand was now covering her mouth. She was shaking.
“Mum? Mum, are you okay?” She closed the gap between them and laid a hand on her mother’s arm. “Mum?” But her mother had not taken her eyes off Zubby. He was on his knees, gathering together the biscuits, trying to mop up the tea with his handkerchief.
“What’s your name?” The voice was different from the mum she knew. This was deeper, strained.
Zubby looked up; he was clearly confused.
“Mum, I told you. This is—”
“I’m not talking to you. Has the cat got your tongue, young man?”
“I’m…I’m Zubby.”
“Your full government name, please.”
He gave it to her. Ebun took a step backwards, and Eniiyi thought she heard a sob. Just a single sound of despair. “I suggest you go home, Zubby. I need to talk to my daughter.”
“Mum, he just got here.”
“He has a driver, abi?”
“Well, yes.”
“So it’ll not cost him anything.” She took the tray from him and left the room.
Eniiyi felt herself trembling. She was furious. The three of them went on and on about her meeting someone, and the moment she did, they behaved like patients at a mental ward. She couldn’t stand them. Any of them. It was a miracle that she had turned out normal. She needed to be—
“Eniiyi. Hey, Eniiyi.” Zubby took her hand and squeezed it hard. “It’s okay. I’ll go home. Just call me when you find out what I did.” He gave her a peck on her cheek and then he was gone.