Chapter 3: Return to the Stairs

Early morning, I waka go the old building. I don yarn Tunde—him still dey there, only him remain, dey prepare to move out. Na that memory make am post the photo for goodbye.

Sky never clear finish, small grey and orange dey fight. That area never sleep true, but everywhere just quiet, like the building sabi say I dey come. My belle dey turn—fear and hope dey fight inside me.

As I reach downstairs, fear just grip me. My legs stop for the front of the stairs, no fit move.

My heart dey hammer. Every brick, rusted rail, every crack for paint dey whisper Ifeoma name. I wipe sweat for my palm, dey gather liver.

Seven years ago, na here I stand dey wait Ifeoma. This place be like shadow for my heart...

The same spot, same shadow for ground. My mind dey play film—see small girl for pink slippers dey run come down, arms open, dey call ‘Daddy!’ But e always fade before I fit hold am.

Thank God, Tunde show, call me,

"Morning, Brother Sani."

Him voice warm, relief me for the cold air. He come out corridor, face full of line but eyes still soft. Chelsea jersey, slippers wey don suffer.

Him voice bring me back.

I blink, shake head, chase away old ghost. Tunde clap my back gentle, like say make I remember say I no dey alone.

"Come up, Brother Sani, na upstairs the wall dey."

He lead, step sure. Stairwell dark small, dust dey fly for the morning sun. I follow, every step full of memory.

He turn go up, I quick follow.

My leg heavy, but I push go, hold rail tight like say e go hold me for this world.

We reach landing between fourth and fifth floor. Tunde point,

"Na here you mean?"

He use chin show me, eyes curious but no fear. I smell old paint and rust for air.

I look up—

The wall rough, stain and mark everywhere. But one side really get outline like face.

Brown and yellow mark, water mark for years. But for edge—curve, eye, small smile. The image pull my chest, strange but familiar.

But e no too resemble human for daylight, no be like Ifeoma at all.

Harsh sun make the thing fade. Wetin look clear for photo now just be another patch. I swallow, disappointment and relief dey fight.

I breathe out small.

Stomach loosen, breath come easy. Maybe na ghost I dey chase.

Na angle and light for photo make am look like Ifeoma...

I nod, dey reason myself. Eyes dey see wetin heart want. Maybe na just that.

Na my mind dey play with me.

I rub forehead, tired. Years of sorrow fit twist even strong mind.

But inside, small disappointment dey hide.

Some part of me hope say sign go show, even if e go break me. Now, only silence remain, pain come back sharper.