by Maya Rossi
After that warning, there was an overt shift. She took a step back, watching me with new eyes.
“How old is her first child?” I ran a weary eye over her. “To and Tonna were just three months old when he threw us out.” I laughed cattily. “Dad threw out a mad woman, three-month-old twins and a six-year-old. Then you come here, travel all the way down from home to tell me you plan to give him aunty Sheila’s land--”
“It’s not--”
“I will kill you first.”
“It’s not her land,” Mom mumbled.
“It’s hers,” I stated fiercely, “while you were conveniently out of your mind, she raised your children, prostituted her body for it--”
“No--”
“She begged him. She begged your precious Frank. Take the twins, at least. He refused. Grandma called them bastards, a curse, children of a madwoman.” I rose, my legs tingling with from sitting in one spot for too long. I opened the top drawer and grabbed a razor blade and the pills. I threw one in my mouth, swallowing it dry.
Mom walked closer. “What’s that, what are you doing?”
With the blade, I cut a line across my index finger. We both stared as the blood flowed. “I swear--”
“Stop,” Mom batted her fingers against my face, horrified. “A blood curse is no joke, my daughter. Stop. Please.”
“I swear on my life and Aunty Sheila’s I will kill you and father if you give him that land. I will kill you both.”
“I swear on the number of times aunty Sheila begged him, I will kill him. I swear on the grandchild of a mad woman inside me, I will kill him. I swear on those nights I woke to aunty Sheila’s tears, I will kill you if that land goes to him.”
Now, I gripped the serving spoon hand as tears flowed down my cheeks. I faced Blessing. “I took the pill.”
Blessing blew out a breath. Her face cleared. There was joy and relief. She didn't want me as a stepmother. She’d rather an innocent die.
And I hated her too.
Chapter twenty-four
White walls. Antiseptic smell.
I forced caked eyelids open. Where was I? Someone hovered over me, brushed a hand over my cheek.
“The hospital. You almost bled to death.”
“Madam.”
She looked… old. No make up. Split lip. Swollen eyes. She was recently beaten. I half rose. “Oga?”
She nodded. “I told him Merrick isn’t his son.”
I dropped flat on the bed. “What?”
“I got him from Madam Gold.” She relaxed against the hospital chair. “I was a maid, like you.”
“What are you talking about?” I croaked past dry lips.
She took water from the sideboard, supporting me while I drank. It was surreal. When I had had enough, I pulled away. “What are you doing here, where’s Merrick?“
She leaned close. “He should be here soon, Gladys got him out.”
“Oh, thank God,” I whispered as my eyes dropped close. I snapped them open, reaching for Madam and pulling back. “Did you say Merrick isn’t yours?”
She clenched her fists, shaking them in conviction. “He’s mine, not just his.” She dropped back, and we stared at each other.”
“Where’s my mother?” I asked finally.
“Back home with Tochukwu and Tonna. I also made sure Frank will never near that land.”
I was happy I didn’t have to deal with my mother, grateful for the twins, but I was cautious. “What do you want?”
Her gaze dropped, and she fiddled with one of her rings. “A chance with my son. I don't want to lose him.”
“You’re going to tell a grown man of twenty-four most of his life has been a lie, what do you expect will happen?”
“I served Oga’s family. Oh, I suffered. But when I couldn’t give him a child, a son? I thought they will kill me.” She drew the covers over my right shoulder. “He was a beautiful baby, strong and kind. I watched his father abuse him and did nothing.”
“And me?” I croaked. “Why did you—you hated me.”
She smiled slightly. “You and Merrick are the only people I've ever loved. I thought Merrick will be like his father.” Her expression became bewildered. “You see how Benita is? That’s how they all turn out. They start kind, normal, and become wicked. I didn’t want you to suffer like I did.”
I was stunned. “That’s-- you?”
She touched my scar. “You didn’t kill him, Ngozi did.” She grabbed her bag and rose. At the door, she hesitated. “You might never forgive me. But I’m leaving my properties to you.”
“Blessing--”
“They’re not my children, they’re his.”
She walked over, touched the scar. “Don’t be like me. Don’t let Merrick use you.”
“He loves me.”
She scoffed. “He’s an Oga’s son. They can’t help it.”
Someone knocked. Merrick stood in the doorway. He and Madam looked at each other.
“Take care of her,” she ordered. She looked at me. “You didn’t kill him.”
After she left, Merrick joined me on the bed. My eyes filled with tears. We held each other tight as we sobbed.
“W-What he did to you,“ I hiccupped.
He kissed my temple, my cheek. “It’s over.”
I sobbed harder. “I’m a bad person. I couldn't love it.“
“Hush, it’s normal.”
I pressed a hand to his cheek. “I killed a baby.”
Tears rolled down his cheeks. He kissed my fingers. “I’m sorry that happened.“
I had a good cry. There was regret, a prayer of forgiveness, and gratitude. “It was my choice. I chose this, to do this.”
His arms tightened. I breathed deeply, savoring the comfort of his arms. Then I slept.
“Merrick?” I called sometime around midnight. He helped me to the bathroom and back to the bed.
He took the visitor’s chair, and we faced each other. “Who brought me here?”
He covered his face with both hands briefly. He looked exhausted, his unusual eyes dull. “Blessing.”
I remembered the cramps and the blood, but not much else. I gazed around the room. My eyes caught the name of the hospital on a calender tacked to the wall. Madam’s private hospital.
“I was here years ago.” I touched my cheek, the scar. “I didn’t kill him. I never did.”
His eyes went soft. “Who? Who? Who didn’t you kill?”
“John,” I whispered.
“Babalola’s son, the younger one?”
“You knew him?”
Merrick pressed his forehead to my hand. “Not too well. He was….innocent.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“I was friends with Ayo then. So when we hung out, John followed us around. He had Down’s syndrome, he was special.”
“I was their maid, I was… eight. John was special, everyone but his family thought so.” I cried softly. “I thought I killed him.”
“Wait, someone killed him? I thought he was sick.”
I touched my scar. “Mrs Babalola… mistreated me. Beat me many times I thought I would die. One day, after she beat me, I woke up with John on his bed. There was blood everywhere, burns on his body, my cheek. I thought I killed him.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Your… Madam helped me. Took me from Mrs Babalola, saved me. And I vowed to serve her forever.”
Merrick rose, stepped between my legs. “It’s over.”
Freedom
Chapter twenty-five
A month later.
“There’s someone here to see you,” Merrick kissed my scarred cheek, “you don’t have to if you don’t. We have movies lined up.”
It was a Sunday. No farm. No market. But I had school tomorrow.
“What’s the time?”
“Almost twelve.”
I stiffened, I slept that long? “Jesus, I’m getting lazy. Who is it?”
“I.J. You don’t have to see her.”
“No, I
want to.”
When I stepped outside, I.J dropped to her knees.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to, I need to. I’m sorry.”
She looked pitiful, bogged down with regret. A lifetime of abuse did that. I.J scratched a healing cut on her wrist about three inches long. It was new.
I had wanted to see her, but we had nothing to say to each other.
“Are you still with Tom?” I finally asked.
She looked relieved, like my asking meant something. She struggled to her feet. “No, he’s in juvenile prison.”
“UUhmmm, I can't say I’m sorry."
She scuffed her sandals, rocked back and forth, never meeting my eyes. “Thanks?”
“You’re welcome?”
Monday came too fast for me. I woke early to pack a lunch for Merrick, then returned to bed with the faint imprint of his kiss on my forehead.
I liked school. This was not me being the good girl or anything. I just enjoyed being able to learn new things. That determination got me out of bed every morning. But I almost always had a problem with the teachers. I was almost nineteen years old in a class for ten- and eleven-year-olds.
They all knew I was married now. After much disagreements, the older teachers gradually accepted me. Mr Adedayo not so much.
When he had me stand up for the hundredth time to ask another silly question, I grabbed my phone to text Merrick. I just hoped he wasn’t busy.
“What was the last thing I said?”
He tapped his cane against his palm threateningly. It was long and fat and special. Well, I assumed he found it special because he kept it close to his person at all times. I didn’t know if Mr Adedayo was an unhappy man or just a bitter one. He never smiled.
David, my old nemesis and now friend, leaned over to whisper the answer, “He was talking about photosynthesis. How the green plants produce their food.”
“I know,” I whispered back, smiling my gratitude.
Mr Adedayo took offence, hitting the cane with so much force it landed on my desk with a resounding smack. The desk bounced a few feet before resting on my leg.
I moaned in pain, leaning down to push the desk away, but David was there, jostling with Femi to do so. Wiggling my foot inside my socks, I determined my toes were well and truly alive. I took a deep breath to quell my irritation and tried to answer the question.
“Sir,” I said to placate him, “you were talking about green plants, about how they are producers and--”
“He told you,” Mr Adedayo snarled, he turned on David, “you told her.”
David rolled his eyes. He muttered something under his breath that got the class tittering. The teacher stood on the spot, trembling with rage. The more the class laughed, the angrier he looked. I swear, smoke was coming out of his ears.
So much for surviving his class. I had complained to the principal too many times to count. When I recalled his simpering, patronizing reaction during my last visit to his office, it curdled my stomach. I didn’t have to endure this shit.
I turned on my phone, keeping an eye on his stand off with David. When he began flogging David, long, hard strikes that immediately swelled on impact, my old fears returned, leaching away my hard won confidence.
“Babe.”
His reply came immediately. “Hey.”
”Come pick me up, please.”
“THE ASSHOLE!”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll mess him up.”
“You’ll have to get in line. He and David are going at it.”
“What the hell is his problem?”
“I don’t want to change schools again.”
“You won’t. Remember, you don’t have to do this. Online is still an option. I will have that man begging for a job picking bottles before he knows it.”
I forgot where I was and laughed out loud. Mr Adedayo turned. His full lips pulled back in a snarl. He raised the cane, and David flinched.
He banged the cane again, rattling the desk, tearing a stripe through my open book. I shook my head and gathered my things. “I’m leaving.”
He gave a decisive nod like an agama lizard. “Yes, go to the front of the class and kneel facing the wall. If you change your behavior, I might consider you taking the test with the class.”
I didn’t bother with a reply. After everything, I made a promise to myself never to give people like him any kind of power over me. I mouthed a goodbye to David and sashayed past.
His jaw dropped. He ran an uncertain hand down his button-down shirt and stammered, “W-where do you think you’re going?”
“Home,” someone called from the front of the class.
As they laughed, Mr Adedayo’s face purpled. “You’re just a prostitute out of work. Go back to your prostitution--”
“You piece of shit!”
Merrick crashed through the door, the Principal and some teachers at his heels. Briefly, he stopped in front of me. He smelled of grease, wind, and soil. He ran a worried glance over me before meeting my gaze.
“I’m fine, let’s just go.”
Merrick shook his head. “Not before I do this.” He slipped through the ring of teachers and the principal surrounding Mr Adedayo. He was in the middle of explaining the reason behind our latest infraction when Merrick punched him flush in the mouth.
The class crowed as he crumpled like a badly assembled mud house, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. I covered my mouth with my hand to hold back my smile. Immature, I know.
Merrick looked disgusted at the lack of a fight. “Is that all you’ve got?”
He took my hand and led me out of the class to a round of applause.
Outside, Merrick stopped beside the bike. “The Principal says he’ll take care of it.”
I glanced back at school. The familiar sounds of students learning, making noise and being rascals filtered through the windows. I said wistfully, “I will miss it--”
“You don’t have to miss it.” Merrick cupped my face. “I know how much you want this. I have spoken to the principal and--”
“It’s too hard,” I squeezed his wrist, “it’s hard on him. How many teachers is he going to replace because of me?”
“Not because of you--”
“Because of me.”
“Right. What do you want to do?”
I shrugged. “Online.” Curling my hand through his, I tipped my head back for a kiss. “Imagine, we get to spend all that time together.”
Merrick laughed, kissing my mouth, languid and slow. When he pulled back, he was grinning. “Come on.”
Later, as the bike roared through the streets, the wind fanning my hair past my shoulders; I tightened my arms around his middle. This was freedom, this was life.