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The Spirit Stole My Wedding Night / Chapter 7: The Bead’s Secret
The Spirit Stole My Wedding Night

The Spirit Stole My Wedding Night

Author: Amy Massey


Chapter 7: The Bead’s Secret

After food and drink, Timi talk say he wan visit my yard.

For my mind, na strange request. But married man fit carry wife waka, especially after long visit. Mama nod, say ‘Go, but no stay long.’

For married people, e no be bad thing.

Na sign say new wife dey get love for old home, make family bond tight.

With mama permission, Ozioma rush carry Timi go my yard.

She dey happy, dey drag am by hand. My own spirit dey chase them, dey hope for miracle.

The place clean well; mama arrange people to dey clean and water flower every day.

Even the old caretaker, Baba Emeka, dey sweep, dey sing Igbo folk song. The place dey smell like home—fresh earth, soap, and small scent leaf.

Even as I no dey again, everywhere still warm, no dirt anywhere.

My heart swell small. At least, my memory still dey alive.

“I remember say one Ozioma plant dey your yard. Where e go?” Timi look around, ask suddenly.

The question cut air, sharp. My spirit dey shake. Na only me and Timi know say that plant mean something.

I shake, my sadness fly, I dey look Ozioma.

Her smile dey strong, but her eye blink fast. Spirit no fit lie for spirit.

But she still calm, dey smile. “Strange o. E dey grow well since, but just before wedding, e just die.”

Her lie dey sweet. She dey talk as if plant na ordinary thing.

“Die?” Timi act like say e surprise.

But for him eye, I see calculation. He dey measure her answer.

“Yes, I just think, e don die—na only plant, nothing spoil.”

Ozioma voice soft, but my spirit dey feel say her confidence dey shake.

Before Timi fit talk more, she pull am inside.

She dey rush, dey drag conversation go another place. E mean say she dey hide something.

I no really sabi Timi well, but I know say he get sense, even though people fear am.

Na true. Timi sharp, he dey read people like book. Even when he dey quiet, his mind dey work.

He no go ask about Ozioma plant for nothing.

Plant no be ordinary for him mouth. That bamboo spirit wey I raise… e get meaning.

Maybe, he don notice something.

For my mind, I dey pray, ‘Timi, abeg, find me out. No let this spirit thief my life.’

But how e go be?

If even my own family no fit see through Ozioma, how Timi go fit?

Even my own family no see through Ozioma—how Timi go fit?

My spirit dey restless. I dey hope say love get power, say true heart go know true face.

Inside, house girls clean everywhere—no dust anywhere.

The girls dey arrange mat, dey sweep, dey wipe window. The smell of soap dey heavy for room.

As you enter, that same old wood smell go greet you.

Na the same smell since I be small. The wood dey soak all the laughter, all the tears. My spirit dey home, but home no dey me.

But the owner of the room don go since.

Na only echo of my laughter still dey for wall. My cloth dey for trunk, my Bible for shelf. My heart dey pain me.

Ozioma wan follow Timi get close, but mama call her go.

She dey frown small, but she answer sharp, “Yes, mama!” Timi stand for room, alone.

I no follow.

I dey stay for corner, dey watch wetin him go do.

Timi no follow too.

He just dey, dey look window, then he move.

After Ozioma comot, Timi just jump reach beam, then drop down quick.

He dey agile, like cat. I shock—na when Timi learn this kain skill?

He open hand, one glass bead just dey there.

The bead cold for him palm, e heavy like secret wey no gree rest. The bead dey shine, small green light dey inside. My own spirit dey dance. Na that bead Ozioma remove from necklace before wedding.

Exactly like the one wey Ozioma put for her necklace.

The bead dey familiar. If to say spirit fit sweat, I for dey drip.

Na the one she remove to keep my eyeball.

My own right eyeball, dey cold for inside bead. My whole memory dey there. Timi dey look am, dey wonder.

Ozioma say she lose am, but she hide am for crack for beam.

She no want make person see her secret. She dey plan.

As I look Timi again, his face no change, but the hand wey hold the bead dey shake small.

My hope dey rise again. Maybe Timi fit see my spirit for inside that bead. Maybe my own story never end.

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