Chapter X
X
He didn’t call later. Or the next day, or the day after that. Finally she broke and dialled his number, but it was his mother who picked up. She considered hanging up, but she would not be a coward. She had nothing to be ashamed of.
“Good afternoon, ma. Can I speak to Kalu, please?”
“Who is this?”
“Monife, ma.”
“Oh.” There was a long pause, and then, “Monife, how are you?” It was Monife’s turn to pause. She had been prepared for a dial tone; what she wasn’t prepared for was warmth. She was certain she shouldn’t trust it. But this was also Golden Boy’s mum, and she did not want to make an enemy of her.
“I am fine, ma. And you?”
“Excellent. Kalu has actually gone to play football with a friend. But I was planning to have lunch and then pick him up. Why don’t you join me?”
“For lunch?”
His mother laughed. She had a gentle laugh. “Yes. I’m a patron of a little café; I am sure Kalu must have told you. I would appreciate if you will join me there. Two o’clock?”
She wanted to say no. What would they talk about? But maybe this was the start of something good. Her mother-in-law-to-be gave her the details of a café in the heart of Ikoyi, and they agreed to meet there.
Mrs. K was late, which somehow didn’t surprise Mo at all. She went ahead and ordered a milkshake, and sipped on it slowly. Her nerves were tingling. Her hands felt ice cold.
The café was a charming enough spot. One of those enterprises that was definitely not making any money—the space was too big, the decor expensive and detailed.
The air conditioner was blowing freezing-cold air in her face, the waiters were well dressed, but the menu only had a handful of items and half of them were croissants and toasted ciabatta.
Besides that, there were only two other parties seated there talking quietly below the gentle-sounding jazz in the background.
The café was almost certainly a front for some individual’s “real” business; or a gift from a husband to his bored wife.
The moment Mrs. K walked through the door, the hosts and waiters flocked to her.
She looked and smelt of money. She slipped off her sunglasses and put them in their case, then she took her time looking around.
Mo raised her hand awkwardly and immediately regretted it.
What was it about this woman that made her feel inadequate?
“Was it difficult for you to find the place?” Mrs. K asked as she sat down at the table. The small talk threw her. Before she had a chance to respond, Mrs. K raised her hand slightly, without turning to even look. A waiter scurried to her side.
“Yes, ma. What can I get you?” he said.
She ordered coffee and a pastry with a lofty air. Mo drank her milkshake all the more vigorously.
“This place is such a gem,” Mrs. K told her. “A friend of mine owns it.”
“Oh. That’s…” Mo’s words trailed away. “Nice,” she finished.
Mrs. K nodded. “So, thank you for honouring the invite. Please feel free to order anything you want.”
“Thank you. But this milkshake is fine.”
“Well, let me add it to my bill at least.”
“No thank you, I can pay for it myself.”
“Why the formality? I’m sure my son doesn’t let you pay for things. At least, that’s not how I raised him.”
“I’m not with your son for money.”
Mrs. K raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “I didn’t say you were.” Just then, the coffee came, and she took a sip with her eyes never leaving Monife. “You are an attractive girl. He certainly appreciates the finer things.” Then she sighed. “Where is it that you see things going?”
“I…We want to be together.”
“So marriage.” She took another sip of her coffee, then she set the cup down and leant forward, holding Mo’s gaze with her own.
“You know, my son has excelled at everything he has ever put his hands to. We have sent him to the best schools and been rewarded for our investment. He is being groomed to take over from his father, which as you can see means he will always live a luxurious life. What exactly are you hoping to bring to the table?”
“I…”
“You see, I’ve done my due diligence. You got mostly average grades, you are just about skimming by in your university, and there appears to be no obvious trajectory to your career plans, if you have any.
Your parents are divorced. Your mother is a principal, which is manageable, I suppose; but your aunt has a peculiar knack for ruining marital homes.
And apparently there is a curse over your family, though I can’t quite work out what it is.
So I ask again, besides your pretty face—and admittedly, you have gorgeous features, though you are a little dark for my taste—what exactly do you bring to the table? ”
Mo’s cheeks were hot. She didn’t think she had ever felt so humiliated. This woman had the unique ability to reduce a person to nothing. The things she said, they were not the sum total of who Monife was, and yet she could not find the words to defend herself.
“I love him.” And even to her ears the words sounded childish. Mrs. K responded accordingly, with a vigorous shake of her head.
“If you loved him, you’d let him go. Allow him to focus on his future.”
“I can help him to do those things.”
“Can you? From where I’m sitting, it looks as though you can barely help yourself.”
“You want me gone.”
“I want what is best for him.”
Mo had hoped they would come to some kind of understanding, as two women who loved Golden Boy; but her boyfriend’s mother believed she was the dirt beneath her heels. She puffed up her chest.
“I suggest you get used to my presence in your life. I am not going anywhere.”
Mrs. K was certainly taken aback. Her beautiful features contorted until she resembled a bird of prey.
“Is that what they’ve been teaching you at home? To find a boy from a good family and attach yourself.”
“I’m not a parasite. I have just as much to offer as he does.”
Mrs. K burst out laughing. “Just as much? Has he told you anything about Amara? No? She is the first-born daughter of the Nnamani family. They are our neighbours in our village. And she graduated top of her class.”
“Good for her.”
“It is clearly a match made in heaven.”
“No. What we have is—”
“Love?” she scoffed. “No. What you have is two young people lusting after one another. I assume you have given yourself to him? Amara, on the other hand…”
What had she done to deserve this? She stood up, pushing the chair back so far it fell to the ground. People turned to look at the commotion. Mrs. K raised her palm, readying to have the last word, but Mo slammed down the money for her milkshake and walked away.