Chapter 22 Niyi
Niyi
I’M SEATED IN THE RESTAURANT’S PRIVATE ROOM AS I AWAIT my cousins, the Saturn book Dad gave me burning a hole in my pocket.
After Moyo’s thought-provoking words on our walk, my quest for autonomy began. However, since my family is secretive and my legacy-crazed father would have a conniption if he learned I was searching for an out, I resorted to the only place with Saturn-specific information: the notebook.
Before Merc and Vee arrive—and I possibly change the trajectory of all of our lives—I look it over one final time.
The old book has maintained its shape and quality due to our powers, the same power that preserves a Saturn’s body and mind for the duration of their tenure. An everlasting companion of sorts. Mercuries gain technology that transforms with the times, while we get paper. Figures.
After speaking with Moyo, I once again read the notebook from cover to cover, combing through the entries for each of the previous Saturns. Previous Holder Name, Tenure Length, Date of Relinquishment, Current Holder Name, Date of Transfer Ceremony.
A majority of the entries were similar, listing twenty-nine years—one Saturn orbit—as the tenure length. A few overachievers, like my great-great grandfather, completed two orbits, bringing their tenures to a lengthy fifty-eight years.
It was only when I returned to the beginning that I noticed a discrepancy I had somehow always glossed over, the first entry, which was peculiar since it was a member of the Jakande family instead of a Bankole. The Tenure line snagged my eye: five years.
Five? It shouldn’t be possible. Yet there it was. Written in word, bound in time and history.
A Saturn who didn’t complete their orbit. A Saturn who abandoned their post.
I scoured the book once more, hoping for some sort of explanation, or, better yet, an instruction manual for how it came to be.
I looked in the “How the Bankole-Saturn Lineage Came to Be” written on the final page; sadly, it was only the written version of the story Dad always told me when I was growing up.
No hidden messages about the means of gaining the power, just a simple line: “The Jakande family, no longer able to serve as the Saturn-incarnate, bequeathed the mantle to us, the Bankole family.”
My only hope of learning more would be to find a member of the Jakande family who could provide more information about the process.
Maybe one of them would even be willing to take up the mantle.
However, unlike other celestial families, the Jakandes haven’t kept in touch.
Therefore, to find them and find my way out of this, I need the help of the Master of Networks and Information themself, Merc.
Hence booking the coveted private room of Merc’s favorite Nigerian restaurant.
The person of the hour and Vee both stroll in, shopping bags in tow.
Vee sits down, handing me one of the bags. “This is for you.”
“For?”
“We’re attending a charity gala within the next month, I forget exactly when. I’ll check my calendar and let you know,” Merc fills in, taking their seat beside Vee and opposite me.
“Okay…I guess.”
The waiter, a young teen, comes in to see if we want appetizers or anything else to drink besides water. Ordering for the table, Merc asks for a small chops platter, Scotch eggs, yagi wings, and a pitcher of Chapman.
“If I had known I wouldn’t be recognized here, I would’ve done more sit-down meals versus ordering in,” Merc comments once the boy leaves.
Vee shakes her head. “You love eating at home, except when it’s a business meeting.”
“You hardly ever eat at my place,” I chime in.
“Or mine,” Vee says.
Merc puts their hands in the air in defeat.
“I’ve heard you. I don’t like sitting in restaurants during my leisure time after spending a portion of my day in restaurants for meetings.
Is it a crime?” they say, making Vee laugh.
They look over at me. “You should actually take it as an honor that I’m seated here instead of asking you to bring the food over. ”
“I needed the atmosphere and possibly the threat of a crowd to discuss something,” I say.
Merc’s lazy demeanor turns serious. Venus looks concerned.
Here goes nothing.
“I want to quit Cupid’s Bow and the role of Saturn.”
Like scratched DVDs, it takes them a while to unfreeze.
“Clearly, I should’ve worn a meeting tie,” Merc sighs, just as the waiter brings our appetizers.
“How about you explain further,” Vee says.
I pull out the book, show them my findings, and launch into my hypothesis: If it has been done once, it can be done again.
A plate of asaro for me, jollof rice for Merc, and spicy creamy pasta for Vee arrive as I finish my explanation.
“The Jakandes don’t like us, especially not your family,” Merc says, which annoys me. “Even if we do find someone, how are you sure they’ll help?”
“I’m not,” I admit. “It’s a shot in the dark, but it’d be even worse if I don’t try.”
Vee cuts in. “Wait, you’ve shared how this could hypothetically happen, but why? Do you want to quit because of Moyo?” she asks softly. I know she cares, but I wish she hadn’t said anything, especially that.
Merc’s mischievous smile comes out. “Are you doing this for your crush?” They ask with a dramatic pout. “As you know, I’m a sucker for love. But you can have love and be Saturn. Your dad did it, and clearly the line has carried on, so other Saturns did as well.”
“Firstly, my dad wasn’t great. Secondly, it’s not simply because of Moyo.
Saturn…living Dad’s legacy is not for me.
I’m not like either of you. Not everyone can be the perfect Mercury or Venus.
We’re approaching two full years, and I still haven’t achieved The Sight.
If I could do my own thing and an actual Saturn takes over, it’ll be a win-win for everyone, right? ”
Vee brushes over the chunk of my words. “Wait, Uncle B wasn’t great?” she asks, even more concerned than before.
I exhale. “He had his issues. I know it seems like our estrangement happened in adulthood, but that’s far from the truth.”
No one knows the truth because Dad won’t talk about it, and—despite being celestials—like any other Nigerian household, when a child distances themselves from family, it’s assumed to be the child’s fault.
Merc doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Would you still make this choice if you got The Sight?”
“It’s been two years, it’s not coming.”
“But what if?” Merc asks pointedly. “It makes things easier, quicker, more comfortable.”
I fire back, my voice rising, “I don’t want to continue being miserable on a ‘what if.’ This might not work, but it’s worth a shot.”
“You expect me to find people who clearly don’t want to be found? Based on a flimsy guess?” Merc’s volume rises to match mine.
“Isn’t that your job?”
“It was your job to stay in the job, but now you want to abandon Vee and me.”
Before our egos overflow, Vee jumps in. “How about we calm down? Take a walk, and we can talk about this later. No one is being abandoned.”
“Fine,” Merc and I both huff.
“I’ll walk.” I stand up, not bothering to listen for a response.
I’m on my way to the bathroom to splash some water on my face when a woman with familiar curls emerges from the kitchen doors, holding a takeout box.
“Moyo?”
“Oh, Niyi,” she says, shocked. “What are you doing here?”
My tension dissolves. “Getting something to eat. What about you?” I ask, then remember the outcome of her second date. “Also, I’m sorry about the date. I thought that one would work out.”
I won’t deny it. When I got the notification and saw they weren’t a match, I might’ve done a sly fist pump under my work desk. Before the crushing realization that I’d have to find her another date hit me like a freight train.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. He was a great guy, just not for me.”
“We should schedule a meeting to talk about this in detail, but is there anything you want me to reevaluate ahead of your third, and final, Cupid’s Bow date?” I ask. The earlier I can start prepping myself, the better.
Moyo breaks our eye contact. She tugs on her bottom lip.
“Everything all right?”
“Yeah…um…I actually wanted to…uh.”
“Moyo, it’s okay. I can take whatever it is.”
Moyo tilts her head and crosses her arms.
“I don’t bite, unless requested,” I say. Now that makes her relax a little.
Her arms fall by her side. “I’d like to cancel the third date—”
“Oh…okay.”
“And stop working with you, as my dating coach.”
“Oh.” My heart sinks. I always knew the relationship would come to an end, but I was banking on having time to prepare myself, not having it yanked away like a rotting tooth.
“Instead, I’d like to go on a da—practice date. You know, like you initially mentioned way back when?” She chuckles awkwardly. Maybe she’s trying to let me down easy.
Honestly? I’m fine with it. One more time in Moyo’s presence. I’ll take it versus quitting cold turkey.
“Sounds good to me. I’ll set it up and forward you the details,” I say, using an over-exaggerated smile to conceal my disappointment.
“Perfect,” Moyo says.
“Great,” I reply.
“Sweet.”
“Nice.”
“Cool. Gotta get these to a friend.” Moyo holds up the takeaway pack.
I move out of her way. “Yeah, I should get back to my friends.”
She looks back at me on her way out, giving me a final wave and smile.
Calmer, I return to the private dining room, expecting to reach an agreement or get into a proper screaming match with Merc. Instead, Vee sits alone, sipping on the rest of our Chapman.
“Merc left.”
“I can see that,” I say.
“Y’all need to talk it out later,” she says. “I can’t have you fighting.”
I nod, keeping quiet to avoid rehashing the topic. The last thing I need right now is a Venus-scolding. In fact, I need the opposite.
“Vee…” I say, thinking about where to take Moyo for our last meeting.
“Yeah.”
“Any restaurant recommendations? I need somewhere delicious, cozy, and impressive.”
“I’m not asking for details to maintain plausible deniability, but I’m very excited for you,” she squeals. “There’s a master list Merc and I’ve been working through in the hopes to find something for a Cupid’s Bow partnership. I’ll forward it to you.”
“You’re the best,” I say.
“Never forget,” Vee replies, scrolling through her phone.
My email notification chimes a moment later. Looking through the list, I mentally sort them into no, maybe, and yes piles based on the feedback Vee and Merc wrote beside each one.
This has to be perfect. Saying goodbye to Moyo is inevitable. The least I can do is give her a date she’ll never forget.