Chapter Eight

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Lavender and chamomile ; that's what the room smells like. A sharp pang of surprising pain and longing travels through my spine and wraps wraith-like fingers around my throat suffocating me.

It smells of the past and memories, long dead and forgotten.

The fingers slowly let go and I can breathe once again. It's only then that I look around my surroundings, soaking in the jarring sight of so many clashing colours.

Robin-egg blue wallpapers, viridian and cream drapery, salmon bedsheets ,mocha brown tiling, blindingly white ceiling, ghoulish green bulbs, a scarlet rug and on and on the chaos goes.

It's a bit sickening and disappointing if I must admit. I've always imagined her room would be as spotless as mine, sophisticated in a bland sort of way with nothing but a splash of colour here and there. But this.... this looks like a clown threw up all over the place.

Aunty herself is seated on the only couch in the room(another object of shockingly bright hue),quietly nursing a cup of tea? I'm not sure.

"Layla" her voice sounds authoritative and a mite intimidating. I don't know if I'm feeling this way because it's her personal space or if she's really trying to intimidate me. She need not try too hard, her appearance alone is enough, what with that cruel twist to her mouth.

Don't get me wrong. She's as nice as they come, after all, she came through for the family at one of their most trying times not even once considering how emotionally draining keeping me here would be. People don't get better than that.

But I am pushing the limits here. I can feel that in the almost palpable tensed energy zinging about the room.

"Have a seat", she pats an area close to her," let's talk".

"Tea?"

I shake my head even though I'll very much like some. You know, for distraction purposes.

"A prayer will be holding today at the house and you are expected to be there".

Taken aback, I stare blankly at aunty. That wasn't what I was expecting. Prayer? For the dead or for repentance? Whichever one, I'm sure it's pointless.

"Do I have your attention, young lady?" She taps the rim of her saucer with her spoon.

"Yes. A prayer today... but aunty, I'm not ready to go back there. Please. I.. I can always pray from here. I'll even fast if I have to but please don't make me go back there. I won't be able to handle it, I don't-"

"Layla. It's just for today. In as much as I don't want to force any decision on you, I strongly advice you consider this. Not for them but for yourself, okay? People don't get over pain by refusing to confront it and don't forget it's their loss as much as it's yours. Think of your mother, dear and don't be selfish".

I bite down on my lips so hard I can taste blood. How many times am I going to have to explain that she's the main reason I don't want to go back there? She's the main -if not the only reason- we are in this mess in the first place.

"Lawal would be coming by later to take you there. Unfortunately, I won't be able to go with both of you, I still have lose ends to tie at the office but I'll drop by later. Remember, it's just for today".

I stare at the plumes of smoke slowly rising from the saucer and I sigh; an acknowledgement of my temporal defeat.

"Alright"

And that's it, my fate is sealed. Help me God

1

You know that expression about the other shoe dropping? It describes exactly how I felt in the days following Naja's second"incident". I kept having the thought that the worst was yet to be over. Something big was coming. Something big and unexpected.

When mummy got back, there was this cloud of unhappiness that hung about her which spread to the rest of us, much like the type that had hung over Iman during that weekend. She was easily irritated and mostly preferred to be by herself than with her family members.

She wouldn't talk about what it was that had happened but from all indication it was something that was weighing heavily on her mind. Lawal and Iman tried to get her to open up but after their concern and questions hit a brick wall, they decided to give her space.

"It's possible we are reading more into this. Naja'atu probably had an episode and nothing more" Lawal said a few days after mummy got back and a few failed trials later.

The three of us were seated outside,at the back of the house, watching as the fiery orange sun slowly made its descent beyond the horizon. I batted a few humming insects away from my face and allowed myself soak in the bruised orange and purple of dusk in the sky. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

"What sort of episode? Does Naja have any major problem aside her inability to give birth?" Iman asked,a sour look on her face. She glanced down at the phone in her hand and the look turned even more sour.

"You sound resentful", Lawal remarked,"As if Naja'atu is making a mountain out of a molehill by being worried about her... issue".

Iman pursed her lips and frowned, the action folding her forehead into neat ridges. She delivered one final tap unto the phone's screen before saying, "Considering how well Isa is handling said issue, yes, I think she's overreacting"

"I mean, there should be more to marriage than making babies. And it's not like she's barren or something, it's just keeping the pregnancy that's the problem. Her husband understands that, even his mother does, so why can't she?"

"Unless you are in her shoes, I don't think you'll ever understand"

"Well, she's luckier than most..."

I sat quietly, listening to them argue back and forth over the importance of childbirth in a marriage. Iman was of the opinion that Naja'atu was already an accomplished woman regardless of her "shortcomings" in the area of children.

Lawal concurred but reminded her that society based a woman's success by the numbers of children she was able to deliver and raise correctly.

"Especially our kind of society".

"In that case", I finally spoke up,"society be damned".

And for the first time in a long while, Iman favoured me with an approving smile.

"Finally", she commented,"something sensible escaped that hole".

2

The call came much later. Dinner had been eaten, evening prayer had been offered and we had already retired to our various rooms for the night when it did.

We were both in bed, Iman and I, unable to sleep yet not completely awake. I was telling her about Samantha and Fred and just how toxic the former was (and probably still is).

"I wonder why Fred won't stand up for herself. The girl in question is not even older than her" I complained, some of my words ending up being swallowed by a yawn.

"It's not as easy as you think, Layla. Verbal bullying is every bit as horrible as its physical counterpart. I even feel it's more damaging", argued Iman. She opened her mouth wide, yawned loudly and then sighed sadly.

"Wallahi, some people are demons in disguise" she stated with such vehemence, I could only nod in agreement.

That was when I felt it; a vibration. It felt like a shockwave was running through the bed and all over me, till Iman lifted the duvet and retrieved her phone from beneath it.

I could only wonder who it was that was calling at such an hour and my sister's reaction on seeing the caller's ID only piqued my interest.

Her eyes went wide and her mouth hung open, giving her this comic look of a cartoon character. Then she glanced at me and shut her mouth.

Tossing the phone back under the duvet, she muttered something about a wrong number. I didn't buy it, not for a second.

And the last thought I had before sailing on the currents of slumber was how everyone in my family was hiding something.