by Maya Rossi
“Come,” Riggy hissed, “they’re watching us.”
As we got close to the junction where we would part ways, Riggy stopped. “He has no clue. Be careful.”
At home, I began mixing the ground beans. I could hear Madam and Benita from upstairs. The television was low and muted. I took more than usual care with the moimoi, adding fish, egg and even more fish and egg.
“Well done.”
I smiled my thanks at Madam in the doorway.
She stretched her shoulders wide, yawning. She looked so young and beautiful. Oga didn’t deserve her. “I like these environmental Saturdays.”
“Yes,” I agreed. I really didn’t.
“It’s slower, less rush.” She walked idly through the kitchen, checking the cupboards.
“Yes.” It was like any other day for me. I rose at four and began cleaning and washing. There was no slow day for me.
“Are you almost done?”
I laughed. “You’re hungry.”
She did something odd, tracing my scar with her fingers. “I’m sorry.”
Her touch sent cold shivers down my spine. I hated to remember that night. In fact, I made sure never to give it any thought. “It was a long time ago.”
She pulled her hand away. “I love your moimoi. I will eat it with--”
“Pap, not too heavy, not too soft and lots of milk.”
She laughed. “You know me well.”
Madam took a seat on one of the kitchen stools and watched me work. It was the kind of easy work I could do with my eyes closed. I made a cup with the leaves in my palm, poured in the ground beans thick with ingredients, and wrapped the leaves around it. Easy. The silence was companionable.
Madam watching. Me working.
“How’s Blessing?” I whispered.
She ducked her head out to check that Oga was still a safe distance away. “She’s doing good, the baby is fine.”
“No chance of her coming home?”
She rolled her eyes. “As if you don’t know Oga.”
“Where’s she staying?”
Madam sniped a bit of fish from the plate and brought it to her mouth. “My sister, Gladys.”
I wrapped the last of the moimoi with care and rinsed my hands. Loving the moment. Just me and Madam. “I can’t imagine what she’s going through.”
“She got pregnant, at an expensive school. Her father sacrificed a lot to get her there. She didn’t even pick a good guy to fall for, you know?”
“Still.”
“Still what? It changes nothing. She took what she had for granted.”
“True… but… nevermind. I’m so--”
“No,” she spread her hands, “speak your mind.”
“It’s true that she took everything for granted. Now, she has gone from having a family to having no one--”
“I will still be here for her.”
“Yes, but it’s not the same. It can’t be the same.”
Madam deflated. Now she looked worried, and it hadn’t been my intention. “You’re right. But I can’t change her father’s mind. I’m the last person he’ll listen to.”
“You really think she should have picked a great guy?”
“Yes, now. Imagine if the guy was good. He would be with her now.”
“What’s she doing?”
Madam ran a weary hand over her make up free face. “Eating, sleeping… regretting.”
The kitchen door opened, and we straightened. Merrick entered. Madam brightened. She rose, holding out her arms for a hug. I turned away, concentrating on my work.
“My son…”
I tuned them out. His gaze bore holes into my back, but I ignored him. My breath wheezed in and out of my lungs. I grabbed the pot handle and lifted. But it was too heavy. Madam liked to cook more than enough when I made moimoi to give some to her friends. I planted my feet and attempted to lift the heavy pot when Merrick stepped forward.
“Stop, let me.”
I almost stepped on my feet in my hurry to give him space. Madam looked frozen, eyes darting from her son to her maid.
“Yes, sir.”
Merrick gave me a look. Easily, he raised the pot and placed it on the fire. Madam clapped her hands, the pride and love for her son obvious.
I forced a smile and knelt. “Thank you, sir.”
Merrick studied me from his great height, his lips pressed tight in irritation. Madam curled her hand through his.
“Come, tell me about school. I want to hear everything.”
It took a great twenty minutes for my blood to cool and my heart to stop wrenching in fear every time I heard a footfall close to the kitchen. I couldn’t wait for to get to the shop, away from the odd tension in the house and Merrick’s attention.
Riggy was right, I must be careful.
I checked on the moimoi probably more than I should. It was because of Merrick and that admission shamed me. When it was ready, I got it down and served. It looked so good, a warm reddish brown interspersed with eggs and fish.
I was almost hungry.
The Richards family gathered like a loving one around the dinner table. Only Oga’s eyes following me too closely. I served, taking a little pride in my work.
Madam breathed in deeply. “Ada this might be your best moimoi. I can’t wait to show Ngozi and our friends. They’ll die of jealousy.”
“It’s childish and useless to flaunt your maid in the faces of your friends,” Oga said. Madam’s face fell, the joy leaching from her face like the rains scraping the soil.
Benita half skipped, half swayed down the stairs. One look at her garish makeup, I winced. She ran to her brother, and they whispered and teased each other in a way I was unfamiliar with. Did he know about Blessing? Would he ask his father? But it was none of my business.
Oga eyed Benita in disgust. “Get out and wash that nonsense from your face. That’s how your sister got herself pregnant. Prostitute,” he spat.
The vitriol, the force of his attack, brought instant tears to Benita’s eyes and total silence to the table. No one said a word for a full minute, leaving his words unattended, like a stain on a white cloth. Benita had a peculiar relationship with her father. She turned into a new maid around him, mumbling and fumbling. There was none of the snark and attitude she showed me or Madam.
Merrick placed a reassuring hand on Benita’s shoulder in support. “Is this supposed to turn her off sex or something?”
“Merrick!” Madam cast a fearful look at Oga, afraid of his reaction.
“Are you going out later with friends?” he asked Benita.
“No.”
Her response was low, subdued. She did it for him.
Oga said nothing after that. Benita tucked herself close to her brother. Then it wasn’t close enough.
“Ada,” she called imperiously.
“Yes?”
“Put my chair close to my brother’s.”
I glanced at her in question. They were already seated side by side, any closer, and she would be on his lap. “I… ah, how close do you want it?”
She slapped me. It landed hard on my cheek with all the force of her frustration with her father. I blinked back tears. Once. Twice. I failed miserably, silent tears tracking down my cheeks. Shamefaced, stunned and conscious of Merrick’s gaze. I moved to push the chairs closer.
But Merrick’s gentle hand on mine stopped me. I stared at him mutely, his vision blurry through my tears. I almost resented him in that second. If I could think through my pain.
He opened his mouth and shut it, a shocked look on his face as Madam and Oga began talking about a neighbor.
While he gaped, Benita shoved me aside. “I will do it by myself.”
Finally, Merrick moved the chair himself. He walked to the other side of the table. “Won’t you sit down?”
“No, no, no… I hate my cooking.”
Madam and Oga had stopped talking and were watching. Panic tightened my vocal cords so my next words were reed thin. “I’m fine. Thi
s is my job.”
“Merrick,” Oga sighed loudly, “can I eat in peace?”
He remained standing, defiant. Father and son not backing down. Madam quiet and pleading. I understood some of their dynamic then.
“Merrick?” Benita called.
The silent war confused me. It helped me forget the pain in my cheek. From my calculation, he wasn’t even here when Benita was born. How were they close?
He took his seat. They got first and second helpings. I did my job, getting refills, water, tooth pick. Merrick would look at me sometimes. Madam praised my cooking over and over. My head swelled with pride.
Disaster came in the form of a phone call. Oga took the call at the table. Almost immediately it went from a conversation to a shouting match.
Oga half rose from his seat, voice rising dangerously. The veins in his neck stood out. Madam and Benita stopped eating, watching nervously.
“I don’t care, get him to accept the order.”
“He can’t change his mind.”
“Go out and do your damn job!”
Suddenly he threw his phone. It landed a few centimeters from where I stood, shattering on impact. Murmuring incoherently, he swept his third helping of moimoi to the ground. He raised his head, eyes jumping around wildly.
I held my breath. Finally, unsurprisingly, those eyes landed on me. “Take this rubbish out of my face.”
Merrick dropped his spoon.
I ran like the dogs of hell were upon me, straight to the kitchen where I grabbed the mop and packer. Without pausing, I ran back in. I got on my hands and knees. As I reached for the discarded moimoi, he kicked me in the ribs. I knew not to cry out. Instead I breathed shallowly, body hunched and waiting for the next blow.
“Get out, get out of my house. I don’t want to see you here till tomorrow.”
As I scrambled on my hands and knees to safety, he grabbed handfuls of my hair. I concentrated on breathing, in and out. His grip pulled on my scalp, sending arches of pain through my skull.
Then Merrick was there. “Leave her be. You enjoyed that moimoi for God’s sake.”
Jesus. He couldn’t be defending me.
Oga stepped up to his son. He wrapped his hand around his neck, squeezing dangerously. Madam jumped to her feet, crying. “Steve, please. M-my husband—”
“Are you going to make me stop?” He pressed the fist of his left hand into his son’s lips. “Are you man enough now? Tell me that school did something right.”
Merrick tensed up, frozen. Oga pushed him away in disgust. “I thought so.”
I picked the mop and packer and ran for the door.
Chapter ten
“I don’t know what to do, he’s going to ruin everything.”
“You could befriend him, let him know what the deal is. The guy is probably just confused.”
I stared at Joy in disbelief. It was the last thing I expected to hear. “He tries to be kind. He interferes, he bungles things. He makes everything worse!”
“He is trying to be kind,” Joy enunciated carefully.
“I don’t need him to be kind,” I insist, “I want him to act normal, to be mean, order me around, be decisive--”
“You want him to be an Oga.” Joy jumped from the unfinished fence and wiped the grains of sand from the back of her short skirts.
The evening air had a coolness to it. The slight breeze weaved through her hair, blowing it across her face. I studied her face in that moment of unguardedness. Was her mouth tipped in a downward curve of weariness? These days I had so much drama in my life, I felt like I wasn’t paying much attention to my friends. Joy looked good, as always. But what was she doing here, with me? A few weeks ago she would have been with her Oga.
She also spent less and less time out.
And she just encouraged me to befriend Merrick.
I took a deep breath, swinging my legs lightly. Joy seemed frozen, her profile uncommonly perfect. The full figure, fair skin and high cheekbones. Was it any wonder she was one breath away from snatching her Oga from her Madam? But wait, did she want her Oga or she couldn’t refuse?
“Joy?”
When she didn’t move, I jumped from the fence. I touched her shoulder lightly and watched her visibly startle, jumping a foot high.
“What’s going on?”
Her mouth turned in a bitter twist. “Forget. Do you think I can get some of your moimoi?”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m locked out for the night.” I held up the shop bag. “But I got this. I will stay in the shop, Madam won’t mind.”
“Hmmm,” Joy smirked. “Look who’s refusing punishment. I need to go.”
“Thanks for keeping me company.”
I watched her leave, worried because she seemed subdued. Joy didn’t do subdued, not even when she was angry. I crossed the street, to make my way to the shop.
Halfway up the block, a bike tracked me a few paces before roaring to a stop. Merrick toyed with his shades. Finally, he removed it, perching it atop his head. We stood by the side of the road, watching each other. I felt something give then, recalled Joy’s advice.
Would befriending him make life easier? I could find out, but I needed certainty. The last thing I needed or wanted was to put a foot wrong.
“I’m sorry.”
There was a hoarse, rough quality to his voice. Like he had a cry recently. I frowned. “What for?”
“I did nothing.”
“You didn’t,” I agreed with a nod.
He winced. “I should have done something.”
“Maybe.”
“You needed help. From his abuse, from Benita…..”
“Maybe,” I said again.
“I couldn’t… I couldn’t…” he took a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”
There was something familiar in his face. Something I saw every day but didn’t pay much attention to. I had seen it in Blessing. I saw it in Benita. In Madam. It was in their dancing eyes, the compressed lips and rapid breaths.
“You’re afraid of him.”
Those eyes went dark. He jutted out his jawline, ready for a fight that wasn’t. He couldn’t have admitted it more even if he had shouted it from the rooftop.
“Jesus,” I muttered. “You’re his son, his heir.”
Merrick leaned forward. “It’s none of your business. Who even said I feared him? I respect him, he’s my father.”
“Huhuh.”
He looked even more incensed at that. With jerky motions, he ripped some bills from his back pocket and handed it over. “You can take the cash and go to wherever or you can get on the bike let me take you there.”
I stared at the money. Joy was right. He wanted to help. But I had also made a mistake. “We-we can’t be here--”
“Have you forgotten, we’re fucking here.”
“People will see us,” I took a deep breath and along with it a risk, “they will talk.”
He glanced around, taking note of the darting glances, the twitching curtains. “You can’t be serious. What are they going to say?”
“It doesn’t matter. It will hurt me deeply. Please.”
Merrick ran a hand over his scalp, looking more confused than before. “What exactly are you asking?”
“You’re the only male son of his father. Act like it. Order me around, do with me what you--”
“Do you realize how you sound right now?”
“Like I’m suddenly making sense?”
He looked away. “Take the money at least.”
When I nodded, he grinned widely, like some naughty boy. Somehow he discreetly slipped some money into my left. After he drove off, I took a bike to the shop where I spent the night.
I returned in the morning to prepare Oga’s breakfast before he left for work. I also spent hours sorting through dirty clothes. I washed and scrubbed and swept until the house shone. Work, especially cooking, was like therapy for me. it helped me compartmentalize.
Around noon, I went to the market to get things for so
up and dinner. Upon my return, I opened the gate to find Oga’s car inside. “Shit.”
What were the odds he would remain in his room until the others returned from work? I made my way into the kitchen and began putting things away. I got the goat meat out and was cleaning it when Oga’s footfalls sounded down the stairs.