Chapter 3: The Breaking Point

After I make up my mind, the thing just dey worry me how I go talk am.

My mind dey skip beat. Each time I see Aunty Grace, my heart dey cut, I dey feel like bad pikin.

Since I start to stay with Jinadu family from secondary school, Aunty Grace treat me like her own.

Her own wahala, her own stubbornness, but she love me true, no dey hide am. She dey call me 'my pikin' for public, dey cook my favourite egusi when I get competition.

I know say she really like me, see me as her pikin.

Na why the thing hard me—how I go talk am make e no pain her too much?

I dey fear to break her heart, as if na my mama blood she dey carry.

When time reach to try wedding dress, I shift am, say na work dey hold me.

I lie say Oga dey vex, that client dey call from Abuja, I no fit escape. I avoid her eyes, dey dodge her calls.

After I graduate, I join media company, dey do celebrity marketing and planning.

The job na wah, but na my dream. Lagos life tough, but I dey manage. Every day na new gist, new struggle.

Tunde Jinadu no like the work. I dey work overtime, sometimes meeting dey reach 2am.

So, when I say I dey busy, he no ask anything.

E even be like say e make am happy.

Na only Aunty Grace dey feel say I dey suffer, dey call Tunde Jinadu dey shout for phone.

She no dey gree, every week na new complaint, as if I dey work for Alaba market.

When I come house, she just finish call, her eyes still red.

Her wrapper loose, she dey sweat, fan dey blow her face but e no help. She dey boil water for tea, still dey vex.

She carry her bag, drag me. “No worry, Ifeoma, Aunty go follow you find am, make am explain himself.”

Her voice dey shake, but her slippers don ready—she fit follow me fight for Oshodi if e reach.

“Who dey put coming back to Nigeria above trying wedding dress with him babe?”

“He really no get sense!”

She shake head, mouth twist. I wan laugh but the pain for her voice choke me.

From Aunty Grace words, I understand—na because Morayo don come back.

The way she talk am, I feel am for my bone. E be like say cold breeze just pass through my chest.

No wonder he dey distracted. No wonder he happy when I say I no fit try dress.

No wonder. No wonder.

When words finish, na laugh person dey laugh.

Aunty Grace shock, hug me. “Ifeoma, Aunty know say e pain you. No fear, I go stand for you.”

Her hug strong, her body dey shake. I fit feel her tears for my neck, but she quickly clean am, no wan show weakness.

“Aunty.” I gently push her. “Make I handle am myself.”

“I go settle am.”

Her eyes dey beg me, but I just squeeze her hand, force smile.

I go upstairs, my head just blank, wan collect my phone from bag, everything fall for ground.

The phone, keys, ATM card scatter everywhere. I bend, gather them, my back dey pain but I no even care.

I bend, pick phone, then just rest for bed call am.

Phone ring tire.

When he answer, background just noisy—I no hear well.

Sound like club or beer parlour. My mind dey turn.

“Wetin happen?”

“Where you dey?”

He quiet small, then hiss: “Wetin, you dey monitor me?”

Him voice rough, like person wey don tire for talk.

He waka go quiet place. “Ifeoma, you too dey push.”

“My mama don finish me, now you too wan join?”

“I say I go marry you, that one no do?”

The way he talk, e pain me deep. I press phone for ear, no wan hear more, but I still dey stubborn.

“Where you dey?” I ask again.

My nails dig my palm, I dey try hold myself.

My skin dey pain, but na my pride dey pain pass.

“...If you wan come, come.” He give address, pause, then add, “Since you dey come, abeg bring the file folder from my study.”

He cut call. I just look ceiling, dey try hold my tears.

The ceiling fan dey spin, the sound dey loud, as if e dey count down to wahala.

I no dey enter Tunde Jinadu study—he no like am.

That place cold, carpet grey, shelves dey full with books. Window always close, air no dey enter.

The study just black and white, cold and quiet like him.

From window, I fit hear Danfo horn for main road, conductor dey shout, “Ojuelegba, Ojuelegba!”

I see the folder for table sharp sharp, but as I wan carry am, my eyes see diary for one side.

The diary cover old, small tear for corner. My heart skip beat. Something inside me dey push make I open am.

Sometimes, person just dey get feeling.

Like for school, when you know say teacher go soon call your name.

Na so e be now.

I know say I no suppose open am, but my eyes just dey there.

As I open the diary, I just hold my breath.

[August 29, 2015

New person don enter house. Mama and Papa talk say she be athlete, she go dey stay with us now.

She always dey smell sweat. Abeg, e dey tire me.]

My throat tight, my chest dey pain. The memory clear like yesterday.

I remember say that day hot die. I reach Jinadu house, dey drag luggage.

My head dey sweat, slippers dey scrape ground. My pikin-braids rough. I dey shy, dey look ground.

My parents and Aunty Grace na better friends. That year, I make state team, so to make training easy, dem arrange make I transfer school.

The thing sweet me small, but I dey miss my people. I dey look window of car, dey wish say my mama go come back carry me go home.

When I reach, na Tunde Jinadu open door first.

He wear white T-shirt, hair neat, help me carry my things, then ask: “I be Tunde Jinadu. Wetin be your name?”

“Ifeoma.”

He smile, help me arrange room: “Your room don set. Anything you need, just tell me. I go tell my mama.”

The smile sweet, but now I dey remember say maybe na pity dey inside.

That time, he gentle, polite.

I stand there dey look am, heart just dey sweet me.

I no know say na so him dey think about me for mind.

The world I dey live that time pure, no shade. Now, I see the shade.

[November 5, 2015

I dey feel say the way she dey look me strange. She really like me? She even give me birthday gift—hand-knitted plush toy. Seyi ask for am, I give am. I just dey get goosebumps.]

My nose dey block, I dey sniff as I read that line. My hand dey shake, I remember the struggle to knit that toy with pure water nylon and leftover thread.

[January 3, 2016

I no like when people dey use us joke.]

That line short but e heavy. I remember the laughter, how dem go point finger for assembly ground. Shame fit kill person if you allow am.

[March 7, 2016

She even tell me say she like me. Na wah. She think say na romance novel she dey? How long before she go commot from here?]

My throat tight, hands dey shake as I dey turn page.

My palm sweaty, I dey wipe am for Ankara. Tears don dey my eye, but I still dey read.

When I first reach Makurdi, I no get friend.

The town new, food get different taste. I dey miss home, even the ogiri smell for kitchen and the way Mama dey fry akara every Saturday morning.

Nobody for school dey talk to me, except other athletes.

Most times, na only me dey.

The field dey wide, sun dey hot, and the only time I feel alive na when I dey lift weight or run track.

Na Tunde Jinadu dey take care of me for school—he dey remember my period, defend me if dem mock me, bandage my wound when I wound.

Those small things, na them make my mind dey go towards am. He dey bring me gala and La Casera after training, dey wait for me outside chemistry lab.

To like Tunde Jinadu just be like normal thing.

So, even after I find out say he no love me, even when I decide to break up, I no regret say I like am that time.

My heart dey proud say I love without shame, no mind the insult.

That time, I no get money, so I learn to make gift myself, like others.

The way I dey hustle thread for hostel, beg tailor for shop, na only God know.

That plush toy take me weeks, make am, spoil am, make am again.

I prick my finger sotay blood drop for nylon, but I still no give up.

When I give am for party, everybody dey look.

Seyi dey laugh, other girls dey whisper, but I hold my head up.

I shame, wan collect am back.

But Tunde Jinadu collect am, put am for box.

He nod, act like say e mean something.

“Thank you. I like am well.”

He look me for eye, smile. I believe am, my chest dey warm.

I think say he really like am, so even when Seyi mouth “fat pig” for me, I no care.

I close ear, dey sing favourite song for mind, just dey smile.

I no dey send wetin others think—my mama always talk say, your feelings na for people wey treat you well.

That voice dey echo for my mind. I tell myself say the world no fit define me.

Tunde Jinadu like am, so I like am too.

I dey imagine future wey na both of us, no other wahala.

Seventeen-year-old me no know say he give that gift to Seyi sharp sharp.

That one pain me pass. Even if I no see am that year, now as I dey read, the pain dey fresh.

Seyi just throw am for dustbin as he waka.

I no know why Seyi hate me. Later I realize na because I no fine.

Envy dey inside, but he cover am with insult. All those times he dey look me with side-eye, na just jealousy dey bite him.

Na why he dey target me anyhow.

But that time, I no know. I think say Tunde Jinadu different from others.

Na so life be. Hope dey for where you no suppose expect am, na there disappointment dey grow.

I cherish my feelings—like most people, no be special crush.

My feelings pure, no evil. I fit carry am go market, no go shame.

Just because I no fine, dem tag me “disgusting”, “unbearable.”

Those words sting, but I dey carry myself.

When I confess, I dey stammer, words no gree come out.

He always dey smile gently.

His smile dey warm, but now I see say na pity dey inside am.

“Thank you say you like me, but I no dey plan to date now.”

He talk am soft, voice almost like breeze for harmattan morning.

But wetin he really dey think then?

The diary show say e no be as e look outside.

I just feel like vomit, but nothing dey come out.

My chest dey tight, the pain dey press my throat.

Tears dey fall as I dey try hold myself.

The tears roll down my cheek, wet my shirt, but I no even wipe am.

I hold the diary, force myself read am finish.

[April 9, 2016

I get babe, make she just free me and stop to dey look my side.]

The words bend anyhow, ink don soak page, like say e dey rush to hide pain.

I just laugh.

But the laugh dry, no get joy. My voice crack, my whole body dey shake. Na the laugh wey dey come when hope don die finish.

First time, I realize say my feelings just dey useless, cheap, nothing.

The thing pain me. I dey reason, how love fit be like this—one side dey give, the other side dey run?

But he fit tell me now.

He fit just open mouth, talk the truth. Wetin I do wey deserve lie?

Plenty chance dey—if he talk am, I for no disturb am.

Why he go dey do like say he care, then dey write this kind thing for back?

Pretend friendship, pretend love. Na betrayal worst pass enemy wahala.

The last diary entry stop for May 13th.

That day, Tunde Jinadu dey face street boys. He no gree, fight start, I use my body shield am.

I remember the blow, the shout for street, the way I stand front, take stick for arm. Pain dey, but pride cover am.

My hand chop stick.

Blood dey run, but I no cry. I bite my lip, dey show say I strong.

I no fit lift weight again.

Doctor talk say if I try, my hand fit spoil forever. My dream just scatter, like garri wey dem pour water inside.

After that, Tunde Jinadu break up with Morayo.

No long, Morayo go abroad, dem no talk again.

Na that time e come close to me, start dey act different. But now I know say e no pure.