Chapter 2: Kemi Don Come Back

Kemi come back Naija last month. Before that time, nobody for Abuja circle send my papa and mama. Their matter just too weird: big man pikin dey chase fish seller daughter, everywhere scatter, city shake. People think say na play. But papa no gree, pursue am tire—until e marry my mama enter house. But people still dey gossip.

Na true, the whole of Abuja that time just dey on fire with gist. Some people dey talk say na charm, others say na true love. Even okada man for junction sabi the story—'You no hear? Crown prince don marry market woman!' Na so everybody dey yarn.

I don hear Kemi name plenty times from elders. Dem talk say na her papa suppose marry, born fine, sharp pikin. No be like me wey stubborn like monkey. For their mouth, Kemi na angel—fine scatter. Last time she come back, true true, she fine die.

Sometimes I go see her picture for social media, dem dey hail her as Abuja Barbie. Even for family meeting, dem dey compare me with her, say see as Kemi dey talk gently, see as she sabi greet elders, but me, na wahala I dey bring.

My mama na like flower wey hide, but she na rose: everywhere, she dey show herself, no get respect. After Kemi come, she visit; grandma carry her go upstairs. She break my mama favourite vase. I run reach there—I see am, she do am on purpose. I vex shout, “Na my house be this, commot!”

Even as small pikin, I sabi say Kemi no like us. As she break vase, the glass scatter for floor, mama just stand dey look. I no fit hold myself, my voice high pass generator. Na that day I first see real wickedness for person eye.

She squat, smile wey no reach bone. “Very soon, e no go be.”

The way she bend down reach my level, dey look me with that fake smile, my body cold. Na so I know say wahala dey come.

Her voice sure. I no understand. “Why you really come?”

Her tone soft, but e get one kind coldness. As if na warning, but I never pick sense.

She talk low, only me hear: “To collect your papa.”

She talk am with confidence, like say person wey don collect ticket for bus stop. My heart shake, but I stubborn.

I no believe am. My papa love my mama well, e fit die for her. Dem dey always kiss, hug. My mama cloth no fine, but papa dey always praise am. Even if she wear sack, e go call her angel. No matter how busy, e no dey sleep outside.

Dem love strong. Sometimes, papa fit come back late, but e must enter kitchen hug my mama, dey call her 'my darling'. I never see am raise voice for her before. I sure say no woman fit collect am from us.

Kemi rub my head. “You this rubbish pikin, just watch. Tonight, your papa no go want you again.”

Na so she use finger tap my forehead, her hand cold. I vex but I hide am. Her face get one wicked smirk, like person wey sabi the secret of the world.

She waka commot, dey form. I call papa with my smartwatch. E love me well, e smile, “Tomorrow na your mama birthday. After work today, I go start leave.”

As I hear papa voice, all my fear disappear. E sound happy, say he dey come back. E even promise to buy my favourite chin chin from Maitama junction. I dance small for corridor.

I happy. I think say Kemi just dey do like witch. She ask if I sabi ‘first love’ and ‘childhood sweetheart’. I no want know. But that night, papa no come house. I call am. E no pick.

Na so my spirit just fall. I call and call, but the phone just dey ring. Mama just sit down for parlour, dey stare for space, like person wey don lose hope. The house cold, no laugh, no gist, just silence.

But as I dey press my phone that night, I swear for my mind—Kemi fit win today, but this fight never finish.