Chapter 7: Home Front Fire

As we reach house, Ifeoma no gree rest.

She dey pace up and down for parlour, dey look me with eye like torch light. I drop key, no talk.

She fling her purse for sofa. Normally, I go hang am sharp sharp.

But today, I just look am, carry my clothes, go bath.

For my mind, I dey talk, "Make she learn as e dey pain person."

She block me. “Talk true—wetin you and Halima get? Why you carry her come chop? And why she dey talk anyhow?”

She stand for door, dey eye me from head to toe, arms folded.

I look down, “Na just colleague. If you wan talk relationship, I dey see her as small sister, dey look after am. As for dinner—no be you talk say more people, more fun?”

I dey talk slow, dey measure my word. I no want shout, but I no go gree for her this time.

My tone calm, no rush.

I breathe deep, dey try hold myself.

“Small sister? The way she dey look you no pure! She just dey smile for you—wetin she dey smile for? We be women, I sabi all these their package!”

She dey point finger, dey talk like say I be small pikin. She dey para, dey shake head.

She dey vex more, snatch towel from my hand, fling am for floor.

Her anger hot—she dey stamp foot, dey hiss. If na before, I go rush pick am.

Me sef vex, kick towel go one side, fire back, “Which package? Like wetin you and Musa dey do?”

I shout small, my voice high. I no send again.

“You don start with Musa again! Wetin dey between me and am? How many years we know each other? You and Halima never even reach how long?”

She dey count year with finger, dey shout, dey throw question. Her voice dey shake.

“So you fit get big brother, but I no fit get small sister?”

I dey point back, dey meet her eye. She quiet small, dey reason.

Ifeoma face red, then white.

She dey breathe heavy, mouth open. You go see say her mind dey race.

Anger, pain, and confusion dey her eye.

If you look well, you go see say tears wan drop.

Last last, her eye red, voice low. “How many times I go talk—if anything wan happen between me and Musa, e for don happen since…”

She dey talk soft, voice dey crack. She look ground.

“I go return your words—if anything wan happen between me and Halima, e for don happen since too.”

I throway face, cross arm for chest.

I hiss, “Na your mind no clean, na why you dey suspect everybody.”

I talk am, turn go bathroom, no even wait make she reply.

I no even wan hear her story, I cut am off.

As I dey bath, I fit hear her dey sob small for parlour. My heart soft, but I hold myself.