Chapter Six

1

The rest of the week flew by without any major event. Naja went back home after some days with us. I missed her and her delicious food.

We all did; Iman was a terrible cook.

We operated on a fixed schedule back then. During the week, my siblings and I would go to our various institutions with mummy partly manning the house and her shop in the market. Her boutique actually. The perfect place to burn away your hard-earned money.

Iman and I normally followed her on Saturdays giving Lawal time for rest and unwinding. Although it wasn't hidden knowledge that "sugar girl" normally used the opportunity to come and see him. "Sugar girl" is his girlfriend. Her real name is Ralia but yours truly dubbed her sugar girl because of her name and her impossibly sweet nature.

I actually believed she was only faking it to warm her way into the family's heart (still do,in fact). The rest fell for it,of course,but not me. Anyone who takes an instant liking to me without any justifiable reason is not to be trusted. I know how I am.

So that weekend started out like the previous ones before it; in my mother's bank-breaking boutique.

Unlike Iman,who preferred to be one of the first persons in the shop, I had just arrived moments earlier and stood examining the wares behind the polished glass cases, trying to not cringe at the exorbitant tags hanging off each fabric and jewelry.

And yet, not a single day went by -I'm sure- without a socialite or an elite coming to purchase some of the overpriced goods. I wasn't complaining though, their greed and extravagance paid our bills.

So there I was,lost in thought without actually thinking and minding my business in general, when, out of nowhere,a smack landed on my back.

I turned, ready to deliver a comment loaded with enough venom and discovered that it was my mother.

"Make yourself useful around here", she tossed me a towel, "clean the show glasses by the entrance. Iman is restocking with Abiola".

Abiola was the oldest of her sale girls and undoubtedly the most trustworthy.

"The glasses are clean mummy, there's abso- "

"Layla", she called menacingly. It was warning enough. I set to work immediately.

2

I hadn't gone a minute into my "work" when the door slid open and in glided a woman fit to be addressed as "Her Imperial Majesty".

She was clad in a midnight blue silk dress, the length of which swam around her leather shoes. Her graceful fingers were wrapped around an expensive looking clutch and her chin was held up at a haughty angle.

She reminded me of a wealthy matriarch. Or a wealthy grandma. The type I always wished I had tucked in a corner, ready to leave behind a legacy for me when it was finally time to retire from this world.

"Good morning ma", I greeted rather sweetly. The woman's wise old eyes fell on me and I got this weird sensation of being stared at by a turtle.

She watched me silently for quite a stretch of time before finally favouring me with a beautiful smile.

She must have been stunning as a young lady, I thought.

"What's your name, child?" She asked in a soft but firm voice. I told her... and she closed her eyes briefly like she was savouring it.

Her behaviour struck me as strange and thankfully, mummy and Iman came in through the back door leading to the store where the excess of the goods were kept.

Mummy began smiling at first,then she saw the woman and the smile whittled away.

"Assalam alaykum Hajia", greeted the woman with a smile that seemed sad to me. Mummy stood as rigid as a stone, not even bothering to reply her.

Iman and I exchanged bemused looks. What was wrong with her? She was usually jovial with her customers and especially friendly with the bigwigs amongst them. And if that dress was any indication, this woman seemed bigwig enough.

"Outside please,if you don't mind", mummy said. My mouth fell open. And then I realised that they were both going to have a conversation and that she wasn't throwing her out.

As soon as they had both gone, I shifted closer to Iman and asked for her opinion on the scene that had just played out before us.

Unsurprisingly, she told me to mind my business.

....................

Petrichor...

I breathe in its evocative aroma; the aroma of earth and rain; of happier times and a complete family;a reminder of all that I've lost and I'm still losing. Myself, my identity... her.

I try not to dwell on it too much but that's almost impossible considering the fact that I am writing about it.

Can I ever move on? Can I possibly ever let go of these memories? They hurt, yes, but they are all I have now.

I keep playing and replaying all the events that led to our current situation in my head like a broken record and I can't help but wonder if there was anything we could have done to avert this.

The door slowly creaks open and in comes aunty, bearing a tray containing an assortment of dishes. Their aromas wrap around me making my poor stomach clench with insane hunger.

I haven't eaten in a while now. Not because I don't want to, but because there's an urgency for me to get things off my chest.

"Layla", aunty calls, her voice almost drowned out by the staccato of rain drops outside.

I quickly shove my book and the diary aside. She might not approve of me doing this and the last thing I want now is someone telling me to leave the past where it ought to be.

"Good evening". My voice is rough from disuse so, I clear it a few times and greet again.

"Good evening".

She takes a seat on the bed after setting the food tray down on the table beside me. My stomach growls in frustration.

"Eat something. Kudirat told me that you haven't been eating properly".

"Err... I haven't had the chance. I'll eat now".

I begin spooning rice into my mouth and it's only after she nods in approval that I stop.

Outside, thunder booms. It sounds like canons going off in the sky, its balls dropping unto the roof above.

Without meaning to, I flinch.

"What have you finally decided?"

"I don't understand. What decision?"

My aunty stares at me wordlessly like she can see right through my pretence. I'm sure she can.

Oh well.

"Going home. The family thinks it's high time you come back".

To buy myself time, I pour out a glass of water and begin sipping slowly, like one in deep thought.

"What do you say, Layla?" Aunty finally asks when my silence seems to stretch on forever.

"I don't think I'm ready for that". The glass in my hands begins trembling,a reflection of how tightly wound up I am within.

I set it down with a little clink,looking everywhere but at the woman before me.

"It's been a month now. Your mother is-"

I cut her off mid sentence," Let's not talk about her, please. My day is bad enough without bringing up her issue".

"And", I add,feeling quite vexed now,"a month is not enough time to get over something as serious as... losing one's identity".

My aunty puffs out a tired sigh. She must be exhausted; she looks so. I can only imagine the amount of stress she's passing through; from having to work and having to take care of me. Just like Naja'atu she is working in a bank and has such things as targets to meet.

It's not an existence I envy.

Aunty slowly rises and tells me, echoing my brother from earlier, to give it a thought and quickly make up my mind.

I wait until she has left the room before emitting a long and loud hiss. I'd rather die time and time again before stepping foot back into that house.