Chapter 5: Side Chick No Get Peace

4

I no sleep till four or five for morning. Dreams scatter—sometimes mama, sometimes Lanre.

Body dey turn for bed, sweat dey back neck. Sometimes I dey shout, sometimes cry. Dream twist, no let me rest.

Inside dream, he drag me go hospital with that cold face, force me abort pikin.

Lanre shadow big, even for dream. I dey beg am, but his face hard like police wey catch thief—fear grip me.

“Morayo, you suppose know your place.”

Voice thunder for ear. That kind warning dey chill bone.

Na wetin he talk.

Eyes open, pillow wet. Abuja sun don rise, generator dey roar outside.

When I wake, na already noon. I think say Lanre don go, but as I waka near balcony, I hear am dey talk for phone.

Voice low, but I sabi am anywhere. I peep, see am dey press phone, ashtray full, eyes red.

On the other side, na him childhood friend, Musa. Everywhere noisy, so Musa voice loud.

I recognize Musa voice, that one sabi gist. Him laugh loud, na party mood.

“Lanre, Ronke don come. Where you dey?”

The way Musa call Ronke name, e clear say big tori dey ground.

“Still house. I dey come soon.”

Lanre voice no dey shake. Even as wahala dey, he dey control scene.

“Abeg, hurry. Everybody dey wait you cut cake. And you send that your small canary commot? No let Ronke see am o, wahala go burst.”

I dey hear canary, my heart dey jump. Na me dem dey talk?

“No worry. I sabi wetin I dey do.”

Short, cold. I know say my matter small for his mind that moment.

After call, Lanre go downstairs—probably go meet Ronke.

Step heavy, the kind wey show say wahala dey. I hold my breath, waka pass.

I quietly finish bath, go chop for downstairs, but I shock say he never go.

Lanre dey there, still dey smoke. Mind far, eyes dey window. Nobody talk, but tension full room.

He dey lean for sofa, dey smoke, lost in thought.

The smoke dey rise slow, make everywhere dull. I sit opposite, my food no sweet again.

After I reason small, I help am tie tie. We stand close, our breath dey touch. Eyes linger for my face.

I help am adjust collar, tie knot for am, just to make myself useful. My fingers dey touch chest, he no talk, but dey look me like say memory dey come.

Before he commot, he talk soft, “No go out today. Wait for me—I get something to tell you.”

Voice low, like secret. I nod, heart dey beat.

“Okay.”

Wetin again? Maybe na to tell me make I pack go soon. Him real babe don come back.

I dey reason different stories. Chest dey squeeze, mouth no fit ask.

Two hours later, Ronke update her Facebook. She post cake photo and one with Lanre, write: [I’m back, everything still dey as before.]

I dey scroll with slow hand, eyes dey burn. Social media na real trouble for heart wey dey break.

For three years, I hear tori about Ronke. Dem say she and Lanre na childhood sweethearts—the girl wey dey his heart, the one wey shine like white moon for am.

Na only her photo dey him old frame. Even driver sabi her gist. Abuja people sabi gossip, so I no dey surprised.

For this house, one room dey wait for her alone. Reason why Lanre donate to our school na because na her school before.

Every time I pass that room, I dey smell new paint, see fresh bedsheet. Her shoes still dey wardrobe, untouched. I sabi say my own na temporary.

For the picture, the two of them look perfect—smiling, shining. I no go lie, they fit well. Family, beauty—like prince and princess.

Their smile na the kind wey you dey see for TV. Lanre dey wear white, Ronke skin dey glow. For that photo, I fit see wetin I no fit get.

Me, I just dey stand in gap for the years wey Ronke travel, just to satisfy Lanre body needs.

Abuja side chicks plenty, but only one queen dey. My own turn go finish, na time just dey play.

That night, I wait for sofa till midnight, but Lanre no come house.

Sleep no gree reach my eye. Mind dey race, radio dey play low. I dey count hours, but hope dey finish.

Next day, everywhere online dey talk about him and Ronke for hotel.

Hashtag everywhere, people dey gossip. I see comment wey bite deep—"Old love no dey die."

As I dey look the news, body just weak. I rush go toilet.

I dey vomit, leg dey shake. Strength dey fail me, but nobody dey hold me for this world.

After I wash my face, I look my pale self for mirror.

Eye red, lips dry. I see small girl wey don old before her time.

Suddenly, I make up my mind.

For the first time in long, I gree say I fit take control. My hand strong, mind clear small.

I must go. If not, I go turn shameless side chick, my pikin no go fit hold head up.

For my culture, name dey important. If pikin hear say her mama dey do anyhow, na shame go kill am. I no wan be that woman.