Chapter 3: A Bride's Gamble

“Wait.” I grab paper and pen, press am for table. “Younger uncle just talk say make we play more, maybe win am back. Game never finish—why write IOU?”

My voice loud. People pause, some shock, some dey watch. I hold Chuka eye, dare am talk.

Everybody shock. Papa ask, “Wetin you wan do?”

Even Third Aunt hand freeze, room tense.

“My husband don drunk—e no dey see road. I go play for am.”

My words strong pass my mind. I look around, dare anybody stop me.

“Girl, since you small, you never touch card. How you wan play for am?”

Chuka laugh, others follow. But uncertainty don enter.

I laugh. “My husband never touch card too. No be una teach am?”

People mumble, some look shame. I press am.

“No, no,” Third Aunt try stop me. “If you lose more, nko?”

She hold my arm, eyes worry. I see care small for her face.

“Third Aunt, you dey fear say I no fit pay?” I bring out my house key. “My new house, just finish, never live inside—worth 2.6 million. That one reach to play more?”

I shake key, crowd hush. E no be play again.

“You dey serious?”

Cousin Uche mouth wide. Even Dauda stop to dey chew kola nut.

“Third Aunt, you watch me grow. I dey talk am, I dey mean am.”

My voice no shake. I look all the elders for eye, dare dem doubt.

My mama wey just wake rush drag me. My brother join, dey beg. Papa dey cry, “Nine out of ten gamblers dey lose. If you siddon for card table, you go turn ghost, no be person again.”

Dem beg, voice break. Mama hold my face, tears dey wet my cheek. Brother grip my shoulder. Papa voice hoarse, but strong.

Dem dey talk true.

I remember stories of lost fortune, home scatter, all from card and beer parlour. Yet here I dey, for the same road.

All these years for outside, I don see people gambling scatter. Family go break, everything go spoil.

I no believe say e go reach me—inside my house, from my own people, on my wedding day.

Cold just dey spread for my body, the kind wey mean true loneliness.

But I no fit run.

My pride and anger pin me. I no go let my family suffer shame alone.

If I waka comot that card room, this three hundred eighty thousand debt go dey my family head forever. No be just papa and mama—even my new marriage go get wahala.

Even my children go grow hear the story. I no fit let am.

Once my husband sober, he go see the kind relatives wey I get, and e go change the way e see me.

He go see me as woman wey family no fit protect am. I no go let that be my story.

I no fit let happiness wey I suffer reach spoil because of some people.

I clench fist, jaw strong. I go fight, even if I lose all.

If dem no see me as family, me sef no go see dem as person.

Let dem see how far I fit go if dem push me.

I drag my husband up, push am go my brother, sit down for card table, talk loud, “Anybody wey play with my husband just now, no fit go. If you go, na say debt don clear, I no go pay kobo again. Game dey end when loser talk so—if winner try waka, you must return the money.”

The words strong for air. Heads turn, murmur start. Even Second Grandaunt husband nod—na the rule, even if unspoken.

All I talk na card room rule—nobody fit argue.

People whisper, nobody challenge. Stakes don change.

“So... we go continue?” Younger uncle look Third Aunt.

Voice shake small, confidence don run. I smell the fear.

“You stubborn o,” Third Aunt talk, sit for table.

She laugh, eyes dey shine. Crowd press closer. New game about start.

“Then I go play with you,” younger uncle say, sit opposite me.

He adjust him wrapper, hold card tight—ready for wahala.

“Okay, time dey,” cousin talk. Great-uncle and Dauda sit back.

Dem gather for table, chips stack, cards shuffle.

“Younger uncle, which game?” I ask.

My voice steady, eyes for card.

“Three cards. Leopard highest, then straight flush, flush, straight, pair, single card last.”

He explain rule make everybody hear, no confusion.

“Who be banker?”

“Winner na banker.”

“Then I go start.”

I raise chin, dare anybody argue. My hand steady now, eyes sharp.

I pick card, feel am. Ordinary card, small wear—no mark, no mago-mago.

I run thumb over edge. No scratch, no mark. I look opponent for eye.

Still, my husband lose three hundred eighty thousand. I just dey curse am for mind.

Silently, I promise—no more foolishness. Not for me, not for my family.

I pretend shuffle anyhow, deal three cards each.

My hand fast, sure. Room just dey watch, everybody hold breath.

Younger uncle remind me, “Banker must bet.”

Voice dey shake small, but face hard.

Third Aunt explain, “E mean say banker dey bet first.”

She talk soft, as if e no pain am, but I hear challenge inside.

“Ten thousand.”

I throw chip.

Chip land for table, sound sharp. All eyes dey, tension thick like ogbono soup.

Second grandaunt husband lock door, and everywhere for card room just tense. Somebody dey tap table, another dey snap finger for tension.

Key turn, sound final. Nobody dey go anywhere. Na only win or lose remain.

Some dey rub hand, some dey hide excitement, some dey dream say dem go hammer, some just dey look. Everybody gather for this one room.

Sweat dey shine for face, eyes dey dance from card to card, hope dey hang for air like ripe mango.

I never imagine say for my wedding day, na so I go siddon for card table, dey fight for my husband debt.

No be the dream wey I get, but here I dey, dey defend my new family with all my spirit. I remember the lesson Lagos teach me.

Luckily, nobody sabi wetin I dey do for all those years wey I dey outside.

Make dem underrate me. Na my biggest weapon be that.

I be card player.

Yes, na true—I be card player. Tonight, dem go know say Lagos girl no dey carry last.