“I’m sorry, Aunty Kavita,” she said. “I know this must be terrible for you.”
Terrible, Kavita thought. What a word. Did it feel like terror? More like horror, actually. Terrible sounded like it had a bit of acceptance in it, like an unthinkable thing had happened but you’d found space in your brain to acknowledge it, perhaps even begin to accept it. Then again, horrible sounded the same way. The words had departed from their origins. They were diluted, denatured. She looked up and realized that Somto was looking at her, sitting there in silence.
“I just want to know how this happened,” Kavita said. “What time did he leave here?”
Somto thought for a bit. “Maybe around twelve o’clock? He didn’t say where he was going. We all assumed he was going to see Juju.”
“Are you sure he didn’t say? What of Olunne? Maybe she’ll remember what he said.”
Somto looked at Kavita, a bit concerned. “Aunty, you can just ask Juju. I know she saw him that day, but I don’t know if he went straight from here.”
“Where is your sister? I want to ask her also.”
“She’s not here. She went out with our mum.” Somto stood up. Kavita could see the discomfort wafting off her. “But I’m sure Juju is at home with Aunty Maja. You can go and ask her.” Somto must have known she was being rude, but she didn’t seem to care. “I have to go and run some errands,” she added. “My mum will be angry if I don’t finish them before she gets home.”
Kavita stood up, already thinking of what she could ask Juju and Maja. “Tell your mother and sister I’ll come back another time to ask them,” she told Somto, who made a mental note to avoid Kavita for a while. She would tell her mother about Kavita’s questions, and perhaps Rhatha wouldn’t force her or Olunne to sit through this kind of questioning, as if it was their fault that something had happened to their friend.
“Yes, Aunty,” she said, though. “I’ll tell them.”
“Don’t forget.”
“I won’t.”
Kavita picked up her bag and started to leave. “It’s important.”
“I know, Aunty.” Somto closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling in relief.
Kavita stood outside and looked around the yard, trying to imagine how Vivek would have seen it on that his last day, when he was leaving: the sky wide above him, the orange tree spilling over the fence. He might have stood in front of this door, looked up at the clouds and seen shapes in them, as he had when he was a child. Kavita folded her arms around herself and walked to where she’d parked the car. She drove to Maja’s house in a partial daze, slow enough that cars around her kept blasting their horns. A few of the drivers leaned out of their windows to insult her. She didn’t hear any of it.
* * *
—
Maja greeted her at their front door with a tight hug. Kavita tried to return it, but her arms were tired and limp. She let Maja lead her into the sitting room and pour her some tea. “Drink it,” Maja said, and Kavita held the cup in both hands, feeling the warmth seep into her palms.
“I just came from Rhatha’s house,” she said.
“You should be resting, my dear.”
“Her daughter said Vivek was there on the day he died. And then he came here.”
Maja gazed at her friend sadly. “What are you doing, Kavita? You can’t keep going over this. It’s not good for you.”
“Did he come here?”
Maja sighed. “I was at work all day that day. He might have. He usually did.” She put a hand on Kavita’s knee. “Why are you asking all this?”
“I have to know what happened. My son can’t just die like that.”
“It was an accident, no? That’s what Chika told Charles. It was a car accident? And someone brought him to the house?”
Kavita looked up at her friend slowly, a frown tightening her forehead. “An accident,” she said.
“Someone recognized him, didn’t they?”
“They must have . . .” Kavita hadn’t known this was the story Chika was telling people. “How else would they know whose house to bring him to? It had to be someone who actually knew him.”
“Well, who brought him to the house?” asked Maja. She didn’t use the word “body,” and Kavita noted the small kindness.
“Nobody,” she said.
Maja looked confused. “Nobody brought him to the house?”
“No.” Kavita shook her head. “I don’t— We don’t know who brought him to the house.”
There was a pause before Maja spoke again, carefully. “You mean you didn’t see the person? You didn’t talk to them?”
Kavita’s eyes filled with tears.
“No. We didn’t see anybody. They just . . . they just left him. They just left him in front of the door like he was rubbish.” Kavita broke down into sobs and Maja came beside her and hugged her.
“My dear, that’s terrible,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
“I just need to find out what happened to him. The police are useless and Chika just looks at me when I try to talk to him about it. He asks what difference will it make.”
“I understand why you need to. It has to make sense.”
Kavita nodded. “He was so young. Something happened. It doesn’t make sense. They took off his clothes when they left him there.”
Maja recoiled. “What?! Who would do something like that?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything. That’s what I have to find out. That’s why I need to talk to Juju. I need to know what happened when he came to visit, what time he left, things like that. I just need to find out, Maja. I can’t sleep until I do.”
Maja’s face closed up a little. “I’m sorry, Kavita. . . . You can’t talk to Juju right now.”
Kavita looked confused. “Why not? Isn’t she around?”
“Well, yes, she’s in her room. But Kavita, she hasn’t said anything since she found out.”
“Anything about that day, you mean?”
“No, I mean she hasn’t said anything at all. She’s . . . stopped talking. That’s why Charles came back.”
Kavita blinked. She hadn’t even realized that Charles was back, although she’d noticed him at the burial. But she hadn’t asked Maja why he came, because she didn’t care. What did a broken marriage matter in the face of a dead child? This was how Kavita knew she was a terrible person—that she could know the things Charles had put Maja through, see the strain in Maja’s face, and not care. But terrible people could still be good mothers. The last thing she could do for Vivek was to find out what had happened. Maja was still talking. “We’re just trying to be there for her right now. Obviously she and Vivek were very close and she’s taking this really hard. We have to be patient with her.” She sounded as if she was trying to convince herself. “At least Charles is no longer talking about moving that woman into my house.” Maja spat out “that woman” as if it tasted bad, but relief ran under her words. Kavita knew she was supposed to express some sympathy, but she remained silent.
Maja caught her lack of response and smoothed out her face. “She won’t talk to you, Kavita. And I don’t even think it’s a good idea to ask her about him. It’s just too painful for her.”
Kavita stared. She couldn’t have heard right. “Did you—did you just say it’s too painful for her?”
“Yes, of course. You know how much they loved each other.”
A cracked laugh burst out from Kavita’s mouth. She couldn’t help it. “I’m his mother!” she gasped, incredulous. “It’s too painful for her? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”
For a moment, Maja didn’t respond. “Kavita,” she said eventually, her voice level, “of course you’re his mother. That doesn’t mean there aren’t other people who loved him, who are mourning him as well.”
“I don’t care!” Kavita stood up quickly, her heart racing. �
�If you people really loved him, you would be helping me find out what happened to him! But instead all you want to do is block me from finding out the truth. What kind of love is that?”
Maja stood up as well. “My dear, of course I want to help you find out what happened. We all do. All I’m saying is that Juju can’t help you right now. She’s suffering—”
“I don’t care about her suffering!” Kavita hissed, and Maja recoiled. “It is nothing compared to my own. That girl will answer my questions and then she can go and suffer in peace!” She took a step forward, but Maja stepped in front of her with a hard, set face.
“I said no, Kavita. Absolutely not.” They glared at each other. “I know you’re going through unimaginable pain right now,” Maja said, “but it is my job to protect my child and I can’t let you speak with her. Not when you’re like this.”
Kavita felt as if Maja had hit her. “Are you saying I didn’t protect my child?” she whispered, her voice splintering.
Maja’s face softened.
“Oh, Kavita, of course I’m not saying that.”
“It sounds like you are! So my child is dead because I didn’t protect him, ehn?”
Maja sighed, her eyes sympathetic. “Go home, Kavita. Go home, rest and grieve. You’re not thinking correctly.” She tried to put a hand on her friend’s arm, but Kavita wrenched it away. She snatched up her handbag, then pushed past Maja and out the door, slamming it behind her.
Inside her bedroom, Juju sat curled up by the door, her ear pressed to the wood as she listened to their quarrel. She was wearing a cotton nightgown that she hadn’t changed in a day or two. Juju nervously pumped her mouth full of saliva then swallowed, words knocking about in her head. She was a little surprised to hear her mother defend her so vehemently; she’d even wondered if she would use Vivek’s grieving mother as a tool to break her silence. But to be left protected, inside the bubble of silence she had created when she found out he was dead—that was a mercy Juju welcomed. She didn’t know why she’d stopped talking, to be honest. It had just felt easier. People had kept asking her how she was, how she was holding up, if she was okay, but when they realized she wasn’t going to answer, they eventually stopped.
Vivek’s death had even managed to bring her father home and it felt a little bit like they were a family again. If the other woman was still a factor, she was sure she would have heard her parents arguing about it by now. Somto and Olunne had stopped by, but Juju simply left the sitting room when they came, and locked herself in her bedroom. It was harder to be silent around them; she had to run away to keep the bubble intact, so she could be safe inside it. Elizabeth hadn’t come by the house, but she had called several times, and Maja could only respond that Juju wasn’t speaking yet. Elizabeth had even sent her a letter. Juju read it sitting on her bedroom floor, leaning against the bed frame:
Dear Juju,
I don’t know what to say about all of this. Your mumsy says that you’re still not talking to anybody and after what happened last time we spoke in person, you probably don’t want to talk to me either. I tried to greet you at the burial and you just ignored me. I can’t lie and say that I’m not still angry with you, but it’s somehow for me to continue to be angry in this situation. I want to help you but I’m angry with you but Vivek is dead.
Everything is just a mess. I don’t even know why I’m writing this. Maybe you can write back if you still don’t want to talk? I can’t keep calling your house like this just to make sure you’re okay. If I’m being honest, I’m still angry with him, too. How can I be angry at someone who’s dead? And not just dead, but they killed him. I feel like a horrible person. It should have been enough to forgive both of you, that whole thing people like to say about realizing life is short and cherishing your loved ones, but it doesn’t feel that way to me. I never even got to talk to him about it.
I don’t know where I’m going with this. I just know I’m still angry.
Sorry.
xx
Elizabeth
Juju folded the letter and put it inside one of her books. She hadn’t seen Elizabeth since about a week before Vivek was killed, when she’d told her the truth about the morning after Osita came to her house looking for his cousin. She had been tired of hiding it from Elizabeth. Every time her girlfriend whispered I love you, Juju had wanted to say it back, but that morning was blocking her throat and the words wouldn’t come out. She knew Elizabeth was hurt and confused by her silence; she’d said so more than once.
“I know you love me,” she’d said. “Why won’t you say it out loud? Are you afraid it will make this too real, or what? Are you ashamed of us?”
It frustrated Juju as well. She knew she loved Elizabeth and she wanted to tell everyone, even their parents. The possessiveness she’d felt over Vivek had faded, and in its wake she could recognize what real love was, that it was what shimmered in the air between her and Elizabeth. Juju wanted to hold her hand anywhere—in front of their friends and family, when they were all at each other’s houses. She wanted to be able to cuddle on the sofa and not have people think there was something abnormal about it. It wasn’t fair—there were times when people assumed she and Vivek were together, and no one seemed to have a problem with that. If anything, it made Vivek seem a little more “normal,” it made people more comfortable with him. But she and Elizabeth were a different story.
And then Elizabeth was there, thinking that Juju agreed with these people on some level—that they had something to be ashamed of. It wasn’t true, but Juju didn’t know how to tell Elizabeth about what really worried her: What if she left? What would she do if she lost Elizabeth? Juju loved her more than she’d loved any boy, and Elizabeth said she felt the same way. She told Juju about Osita, and then about a senior girl at her school who’d introduced her to options that went beyond useless boys. The senior girl had taught her things, things she then taught Juju—like how being with a girl was so much better than being with a boy, because boys were selfish and they didn’t know how to make you feel good. Girls knew how to touch each other properly.
Still, both Juju and Elizabeth were scared that one of them would wake up someday and decide she was tired of being with a girl. This was why Juju didn’t want to tell Elizabeth about the kiss with Vivek. She’d always sworn he was just her best friend, there was nothing going on, she was sure Vivek liked boys. Elizabeth had believed her. Why shouldn’t she? It wasn’t like she knew she was dating a liar—not yet.
When Juju finally told her about the kiss, Elizabeth looked stunned. Juju watched as shock and pain cycled through her face, quickly replaced by disbelief. “Wait, is this not the same Vivek you kept telling me there was nothing going on with?” Elizabeth asked, then laughed in an empty way. “Wow, I’ve really been an idiot. You’ve been here making a fool of me this whole time. I hail you!”
“It’s not like that,” Juju tried to say. “Let me explain—”
“It’s not like what? You missed penis so much that you had to make a move on Vivek, of all people? He’s not even a man, for God’s sake.”
“Elizabeth!”
“I don’t even blame him. We all know his head is somewhere else. But you—how long have you been lying to me about this? What else have you two done?” Elizabeth held up a hand and looked at Juju with disgust. “In fact, don’t tell me. I can’t even tolerate your face right now.”
She walked away and Juju ran after her, trying to grab her arm, but Elizabeth shook her off. Juju called her name, her voice breaking, not caring who heard or saw, but Elizabeth never looked back.
* * *
—
A week later, Maja came into Juju’s room to tell her that Vivek was gone, that he had “passed away”—useless words meant to make death feel better. Juju stared back at her as the news of his death ground to powder the pieces Elizabeth had left her heart in, until there was nothing remaining in her chest
to come up through her throat. That was why she stopped talking, and Kavita’s visit didn’t change that. Nothing changed that until one morning when Juju dreamt of Vivek and he kissed her again in the dream, and a river flowed from his tongue down her throat. Juju woke up with a dry mouth, but when Maja said good morning, Juju said it back to her automatically and watched the joy flood her mother’s face. Charles was there—he was always there now—and when Juju greeted him, she was surprised to see her father look both old and relieved.
The next time Kavita came to visit, her face thin and tired, Juju told her what she wanted to know: that Vivek had come to her house that day, but he’d left in the afternoon and she thought he’d gone home. She told Kavita he’d eaten lunch there, but he hadn’t had much because he was full of pancakes.
“So you don’t know what happened to him?” Kavita asked, her eyes full of disappointment.
“I’m so sorry, Aunty. I really don’t. I thought he got home safe. I didn’t know what happened until—” Juju’s voice cracked and she paused to force it back into one piece. “Until you called my mother.”
“They put him in front of the door, you know.” Kavita looked so frail.
“I know, Aunty. I heard.” Maja was waiting just outside the parlor and Juju threw her a look, begging for rescue.
Her mother swooped in and put her hands on Kavita’s shoulders. “Come now,” she said. “Let’s get you some tea. Juju, you can go to your room.”
Juju leaned down to give Kavita a quick hug before she left, feeling how sharp her shoulder blades were, like a wishbone ready to snap. Juju wanted to whisper that she loved her, but it wasn’t the kind of thing any of them ever said out loud and she knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Still, seeing Kavita like that, almost going mad with trying to figure out what had happened to Vivek, she wondered if Vivek’s mother deserved a bit more of the truth—if she and the others were hurting her every time she asked them the wrong questions and they gave her their careful answers. The truth was so far away from any of her suspicions that she had no chance of interrogating them successfully; she didn’t know how much she didn’t know. She was Vivek’s mother, and she was wasting away before their eyes. They were as guilty as she suspected. They were making her suffer.
The Death of Vivek Oji Page 14