Chapter 6: Night of the Living, Night of the Dead

That night, Chisom insist say make I sleep for im arms. We dey for im bed, the room smell of old memories and candle wax. E hug me like say e no fit ever loose.

I struggle. “I be spirit, I no dey sleep!” I dey complain but my body dey weak. Na wahala love.

E just hug me tighter. “But me, I need am.” Im voice low, like pikin wey dey beg for night food. E face press my shoulder.

I look up, wan insult am, but as I see tiredness for im eyes, I no fit talk again. The pain for e eye deep, like river wey no get end. My insult swallow back.

E snuggle close, press face for my neck, im breath calm down. E dey breath slow, as if e finally see peace. My own heart dey turn butter.

Moonlight enter from window, shine for im thin face. The light soft, e draw the lines for e cheek, show every pain and hope.

I turn face, eyes dey hot with tears. Spirit no suppose cry, but for here, everything fit happen. My heart dey melt.

I no know how long pass before I feel im hand grip my waist tight. Sleep carry me like baby. I dey float between love and pain.

Morning don reach. The rooster for compound don crow, sunlight dey filter through curtain. Chisom still dey watch me.

Chisom don wake, dey look me like say I be miracle. E eyes wide, mouth open small. Na like pesin wey just win lottery.

“Why you dey look me?” I feel somehow. I wan vex, but I dey shy small. My spirit dey blush—who believe am?

E give weak smile, voice rough: “I dey fear say na dream. If I open eye, you go disappear again.” Im voice crack. E tongue dry, but na truth e talk.

I grip my fingers. I squeeze hand, try form strong. My chest dey rise.

E hug me tight, something hot dey press my thigh. I fit feel e heart, the warmth dey strange but sweet.

Na then I realize: “Wait, Chisom... I be spirit o.” The fact hit me. I look myself, then look am. Confusion dey ground.

E nod. “I sabi.” Im voice soft, eyes steady. E dey look me like say e no care about boundary.

“Then how you dey touch me?” The thing dey shock me. For three years, na only offering I dey chop, no touch. Now, touch dey real.

Since yesterday, something dey off. Now I just understand. Spirit and living no suppose mix like this. Na juju sure pass. I be spirit, so how e dey touch me?

For my mind, I dey calculate. Chisom na correct wahala boy.

E bring out pendant from neck. The chain shine, stone dey middle, e glow like midnight star. I never see the type. The stone fine, dey glow small. The colour dey change as e move am for light, e get Yoruba writing for back.

“Spirit-communicating stone. I buy am for Oshodi market, baba say e fit connect living and dead if love strong.”

E drop am for my hand. The chill na real, but e dey comfort my palm.

I groan. “You no fear say I go suck your energy if I dey with you like this?” I dey tease am small, but my heart dey pound. Spirit fit chop energy if dem no dey careful.

E no send. Im face bold, e dey dare me. Love no dey fear.

“If e happen, make I follow you be spirit, no wahala.” E voice gentle, but the stubborn inside. For Chisom, love no get fence.

E hug me tighter, lips touch back of my neck, shiver run my body. My whole body light, as if I fit float pass ceiling. Na love and juju dey mix.

“No...” My voice soft. I dey try form hard, but e no work.

I grit teeth, refuse. Na pride dey my voice, but my body dey betray me. Spirit get limit too.

“No?” Im voice just rise, warm and playful... E eyes dey shine with mischief, like small boy wey hide sweet under bed. Na so the boundary between spirit and living dey fade for Chisom hand.