Chapter 3: Blood and Small Hope

Before I go toilet, Mr. Folarin talk, “Wait small.”

The way e talk am, e voice no strong again. Na like person wey dey hide something. I pause for the corridor, dey wait.

E close door. I hear as e dey flush bathtub with water.

The sound of the flush loud, like say e dey wash away secret. I stand for passage, dey look ceiling, my heart dey beat.

“All right, you fit go now.”

As I finish, I see small blood stain for edge of bathtub, and razor dey ground.

The sight shock me. For small second, I freeze, my mind dey remember all the scary story wey mama dey talk for night. For my mind, I dey beg God say make nothing bad happen. I wan shout, but fear hold my throat. I swallow spit, my leg dey tremble.

As I come out, I ask am, worry dey my face, “Daddy, you wound?”

I dey look e hand, dey pray say nothing bad dey happen. My eye dey big, voice soft.

Mr. Folarin lips just press tight. “No.”

The way e answer me, I know say e dey hide something. E voice deep, and e no fit look me for eye.

“Thank God o.” I breathe out, my mood better.

I pat my chest small. For my mind, I dey promise say I go dey check e hand, make sure say e dey okay.

“Daddy, your house fine o. Big well well.”

I look around, the kind tiles wey dey ground na white, with big sofa wey be like cloud. I dey peep for wall, dey count all the photo wey e hang.

“E fine reach Uncle Chuka house.”

I dey try compare for my head, but this place get better smell—no be the usual pepper soup aroma. Na air freshener, and everything neat.

“Mama talk say you sabi pass Uncle Chuka sef. She no lie give me.”

I dey smile, dey try warm up to am, dey pray make e happy small. I dey hope say my mama gist fit soften e heart.

Mr. Folarin ask, “You get another papa?”

The way e ask am, e voice carry small jealousy, but e try hide am with thick tone.

I nod. “Mama first dey with Uncle Chuka, but Uncle Chuka no treat mama well. After mama sick kpai, Uncle Chuka marry another aunty.”

I say am with sadness, but I no let my voice break. I dey remember how Uncle Chuka never really send us.

“Your mama don die?”

I nod slow. My heart dey heavy, my throat dey choke.

“Mm.” As I talk about mama, I wipe my eyes.

I use my shirt sleeve clean my nose. The memory dey bite me like pepper for wound.

Mr. Folarin frown. “Wetyn be your Uncle Chuka name?”

E voice dey serious, like say police dey ask question. E eyes dey dig hole inside me.

“Chuka Eze.”

I pronounce the name well, make e no get excuse say e no sabi who I dey talk about.

E pause. “And your mama?”

E voice softer now, but still dey carry fear inside.

“Adaeze.”

I call am with pride. I dey hold onto her memory tight.

“You get her picture?”

Oh, true.

I bring out mama only picture from my bag, give am.

The picture old, mama dey wear Ankara, her smile shy, eyebrow thin like broom. E get fold for corner. I hold am for my chest before I pass am over, like say if I loose am, my whole world go break.

Mr. Folarin stare the photo, him eye sharp all of a sudden.

E look the picture like say e dey see ghost. The way e hand dey shake, I know say e heart dey beat fast.

Him face change, like say memory dey rush am. Even as e try hide am, the hand wey hold the photo dey shake small.

E chest dey rise and fall, e try arrange face, but e no fit hide the pain.

After small time, e force smile, voice bitter. “Na Adaeze Okafor be your mama?”

E voice crack small, like old radio wey battery wan die.

Mama tell me before say her real name na Adaeze. Adaeze Okafor na the name wey she use after she land for this world. Na only papa and me sabi am.

But e be like say papa no know.

I just nod. “Yes.”

I nod with pride, dey hope say e go gree me as pikin.

Mr. Folarin squat, dey look my face like say e dey find him own feature for my body.

E dey search my nose, my eye, my ear, dey calculate if any part resemble am. My heart dey beat, dey wait e verdict.

“You... how old you be?” E voice rough.

E voice dey shake, like person wey wan cry but dey pretend strong.

I answer gently, “Six.”

I count my fingers, dey remember all the birthdays wey mama dey buy me small cake. Na six.

Hope wey dey him eye just die sharp-sharp. E stand up, voice bitter. “E no do her to deceive me, now she wan use you join?”

The disappointment for e face heavy. E voice dey shake with pain, but e still dey stubborn. The way e talk am, I wan cry.