Chapter Three.
The Past.
Clarisse.

Home became a strange place to me. It felt very different from what it used to be. I'm not talking about the house; the spirit of happiness and love was long gone. Silence prevailed howbeit, it brought a friend along.

Loneliness.

Home was now a place filled with strangers who knew each other. We all lived our separate lives rarely running into each other except the day my mom announced in our private family group chat that we should all have dinner together on the kitchen island.

I was reluctant about it- nervous maybe.

When I had arrived at the island, the food was arranged neatly. A large transparent bowl of spaghetti cooked in Jollof sauce sat at the center in place of the vase I had broken the week before. The dish included stewed meat on the left and Cole slaw on the right. It was one of the simplest dishes I had ever eaten together with my family. If father were alive, eating together meant a feast. Three plates were set accompanied by cutleries and glass tumblers. Bottled water was placed by the side of each cup.

I had pulled out a stool and sat down, patiently waiting for my mother and my sister to show up. I had fiddled with the fork and knives by my plates, drumming a beat on the table absentmindedly. I had not even notice when they walked in until I heard the loud scraping of a kitchen stool on the floor. I had held my ears in irritation all the while looking up to know who it was. Of course, it had been my sister. One of the maids had helped my mother pull out a stool.

Idowu walked into the kitchen, the black and white maid attire was fitted too tight and a bit short. If my father had been alive, mother would have screamed at her in Yoruba - "Ashawo. O fe gba oko lowo mi, abi?"

She had given me a small bow and began serving the food in order of age. When my turn came, I stopped her on the first fork. She looked at me with a raised eyebrow and said nothing, proceeding to add meat to my food but I stopped her.
"I'll have the cole slaw with no dressing."

Cleotilda had scoffed. "What's all this? Are you joining those whites on TV on their anorexia spree?"

I had closed my eyes, willing myself to remain calm all the while counting slowly to ten. I had not made it past number three when she said, "Oh my! You're taking deep breaths? Don't be delusional, you're not that girl in a movie."

"Cleo you're being unreasonable," mother ha commented with a scoff before turning to me. "I've told you not to pick your food. It gets messy. That is not good manners for a lady."

I had nodded in response, "Did you just want to eat with us or you had something to say?"

"Blunt as always," mother had chuckled, popping a small piece of meat in her mouth. I stared at her incredulously. Why was she acting like she hadn't hurt me in the last few days- then and there was a nagging voice in my head that said to me.

Same reason you're acting like no one died.

"I thought we should do this since it won't be happening for a while."

"Ah," I had muttered. "Why is that?"

"I'm going to university next week," Cleotilda said pointedly. "I can't believe you forgot. Aren't we close anymore?"

"I will not tolerate this!" mother snapped, banging her fists on the island. "Cleotilda Adelagun, warn yourself."

The tension became thick afterwards, mother's voice was like a blunt knife that failed to cut through so it left a wound when she spoke. "Clarisse," she looked at me. "I'm sure you know that I have earned the trust of the board of directors and now I am CEO."

"Without their trust, you'd still be the CEO," I mumbled, finally taking a bite of the salad. "Dad built and owns all those companies, so by default that's how it works."

"Not really, " she smiled. "You're going to be living with your aunt once Clarissa travels. Even though I want to be there as a mother for you, I would be very busy. I don't want you to be abandoned with maids. You need a mother figure especially now."

"Isn't that what you've done your whole life?"

"What?"

"Abandon me with maids," my voice sounded lifeless even to my ears.

"I-"

"I don't need a mother figure now," I told her, my eyes fixated on the wall behind her. I refused to meet her gaze. "I learned how to survive without one." My fingers started a rhythmic movement on the table. "Dad was always busy, busier than you were, but he still made time for me."

"And who caused him to die?" Cleotilda asked, her fork clattering to the ground.

"Shut up!" mother exclaimed. When I finally looked at her, her eyes were hard but broken. Tears were sitting at the corner of her eyes, ready to drop down.

"I don't care if you're busy. I'm not living with any relatives."

"I've already enrolled you in a school, paid your fees and all. Your aunt will take you to get your uniforms."

"What?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. It was tempting to raise my voice just a little higher but I refrained. I counted to three instead. "I haven't even sat an entrance exam or-You didn't even think to tell me. This is spontaneous! You- I- Fuck."

"Your transcript was enough. Let me make one thing clear, this isn't a debate. It is what is going to happen," she told me.

Even though I was angry at the situation, I fought the smile that threatened to form.

Your transcript was enough.

I never thought I'd live to hear her say something like that. At most, it would have been- I showed them your transcript, but that feeling left as soon as it settled down in my mind.

Bile rose to my throat, the cole slaw in my mouth felt like paper and I ran to the sink to empty my guts.

It was 10:13 p.m.

∆*+*+*+*+*∆

Aunt Tobi was tall. She had to bend her head to pass through most door openings. she towered above everyone she walked by. She had a height that intimidated most men. She wasn't slim if that's what you're thinking. She looked exactly like one of those Nigerian middle-aged models who always wore the latest lace aso ebi attires with her large buttocks and breasts. I later learned that she was a part-time model for a fashion designing company that specialized in aso ebi.

Aunt Tobi wasn't what I expected of someone related to me. Of course, I hadn't expected any of my external family members to be as well off as we were. What I didn't expect was any of them habiting a shabby town.

My mother said she chose her cousin because she wanted me to know a bit of "life". Also aunt Tobi was barren and needed company.

In her world, she was filthy rich but to me it was quite the opposite. She lived in a very small but spacious five-bedroom duplex at cooperative villa estate with a Chihuahua that always got in the way and a husband who was always home typing away on his laptop. From what I learned, the estate was one of the best residential estates in the town of Badore. It had a park, good security (only residents were allowed into the estate, as a visitor you had to place a call and some sort of booking was made), it was serene and quiet and ideal for raising kids and all that. However, I did not agree. There was only one shop where you could get the things you needed and it did not have everything. There was no hospital- maybe because a government health center was just a five minutes drive once you got out of the estate. The pharmacy was also right outside the estate and there was no 24/7 electricity.

My mother told me that was something I would get used to but it did take a while. I was thankful my aunt had a generator.

The first time I visited her something peculiar happened. I had seen the jubilee bridge several times while going to places like Abraham Adesanya and Inoyo Havens in sangotedo. Also while visiting my paternal grandparents who lived in Royal Gardens and my Maternal grandmother who lived in Lekki Phase One Estate but I had never ever been to the other side of the bridge.

Ajah did not give me a sense of deja vu as I expected.

There were people hawking in the traffic as usual- although that didn't happen once we got to a place called oke-ira. There were a lot of undeveloped buildings at the side of the road but the potholes were very different. They seemed to form a zigzag pattern on the road and it seemed like every driver had memorized where there were potholes because everyone swerved to the left at some place and to the right at another.

One more thing I found different was the number of beggars.

I had seen lots of beggars in my life but I had never seen up to a hundred at once roaming in the same place. The roads were also very dirty and nauseating. Mud as black as coal littered everywhere. The gutters were overflowing into the street. Paper and nylon wraps flew about in the wind. When we passed the Olumegbon palace I asked if a king lived there.

My aunt said yes but more like a baale.

I almost had a heart attack. The place looked like a dunghill in comparison to my house and even my aunt's house. The pink palace walls had the paint worn off; the entrance was dirty and the palace itself contained several single-storied buildings that resembled cheap motels.

I was glad my aunt told me that we did not answer to the monarch, Olumegbon.

Chapter Glossary:

Ashawo. O fe gba ọkọ lọwọ mi Abi?: Prostitute. You want to steal my husband, right?

Ajah: A busy town in Lagos.

Oke-Ira: A community in Ajah.

Baálé: A chief/head of a community in any yoruba land.