Thursday arrived after much anticipation. She shifted, seating in the old brown chair in her stepfather's living room while she waited for the woman of the house to arrive.

She tapped her fingers against the wooden arm rest, ignoring the tornado in her stomach. Anger had fuelled her bravery the last time but now, she would fly out of her seat if she so much as thought her step father was in the next street.

But she was here on her mother's request. And that had to count for something.

The main door opened and Romola squeezed into the chair until she could barely tell where the chair ended and where her back began. Small feet, in black open toe sandals, stepped into the living room and shut the door behind them. The small dark figure took the shape of a young girl as Romola fingers curled around the headrest.

"Lolade," She whispered.

The girl looked towards her then jumped on her laps. "Sister Romola."

"Ssh!" Romola whispered, looking around.

The old man could manifest from anywhere. He seemed to have lighter footsteps after alcohol had clouded his head.

The younger girl flung her arms around Romola's shoulders. "You didn't tell me you were coming."

"It's a surprise. How are you?"

Lolade pouted, folding her arms. "I am not fine oh."

"What happened?"

"Is it not mummy and daddy? Everything, fight. Every time, fight."

"It can't be that bad."

"Because you are not here. Me I don't like doing messenger work. Mummy will send me to daddy. Daddy will send me to mummy. Both for them will be shouting at me." Lolade took off one sandal. She dumped it at the foot of the chair and reached for the other one. "Every time, fight. When will you come and take me away?"

"Lola, there is nothing wrong with this house."

"Then why doesn't sister Sunbo stay in it? She's always running away with her friends. You too. When you were in Uni."

"That's different. I had to stay in school because I was studying. Where is Sunbo?"

"I don't know." Lolade shrugged. "I don't even know if she will come back this week."

Their mother leaped into living room from the bedroom bearing a fresh bruise under her left eye. She screamed, "Lolade, go and remove your school uniform right now."

Lolade scampered, picking her sandals on the way out.

Their mother shook her head. "I can't find what I was looking for."

"Oh, that's fine." Romola smiled, standing and turning to the door. This was the perfect time to leave.

"Come and help me look for it."

An invitation to assist her mother. What was happening with the woman? She turned and stared at the woman squarely in the face.

"Ma?"

"Are you now deaf?" The older woman led the way into the room.

Romola followed, coming upon a room with clothes on every surface. Her mother closed the door, then reached under the bed to grab a box.

"What are you looking for?"

"I will know when I find it."

Romola stopped an eye roll. How was she to help the woman when the woman insisted that she didn't know what she looking for? Romola hung around, staring for a few minutes before she picked up the clothes closest to the door and began to fold them.

"What is the colour of this thing? Have you checked inside the pockets of these clothes?"

"When I find it, I will know."

Romola passed time by folding the clothes and putting them in a pile while her mother emptied the box on the bed.

The older woman's hands spread different coloured jewellery across the bed like she was spreading grains out under the sun to dry. She sat down, placed the box on her laps and began to drop the jewellery back into the box. A large gold chain hit the metal box with a clang.

Her mother sighed, "It's been so long since I wore this."

Her mother held up a silver chain with a red diamond pendant. Romola had played with the content of the box a few times but she had never seen that chain before.

"I got this when I graduated." Her mother tossed the chain on the floor. "I don't even know why I kept this stupid thing."

"What's wrong with it?"

Romola walked around the bed to pick up the chain. She held it up to her mother's face, her own eye glinting at the chain. Was this a real silver?

"There was nothing wrong with it. It was who gave it to me." Her mother's gaze hardened as she stared at Romola.

"Ehn, who gave it to you?" Romola propped her hands against her waist.

"Your father."

Romola dropped the chain in the box. "Baba Jide?"

"Your own father."

"Why did you keep it then?"

Romola's mother sighed. A heavy sigh that spoke of unending mistakes. "Honestly, I don't know."

"Well, you should throw it away." Romola's brow furrowed.

"That's what people said about you but I kept you."

"No." Romola shook her head. She wouldn't stand for such. "You threw me out of the house. You and your husband."

Her mother sighed. "Do you think that's what I wanted?"

"You didn't stop him." Romola's tears choked her. "And you told me never to come back."

"Romola-"

"Why did you ask me to come here?"

"Throwing you out," Her mother paused, then picked the chain. "It was not an easy decision."

"But you did it." Romola folded her arms. Then she turned, her voice scratchy with unshed tears. "I don't even know why I am still here. Let me leave before you accuse me of contaminating your house with my prostitute germs."

"I'm sorry." Her mother whispered.

Romola her jaw hung low. Her mother- a konk African mother apologising. She blinked herself back to the present. "What are you sorry for? Almost beating me to death? Sending me out with nowhere to go or nothing to do?"

Her mother bowed. "I should have done better. I thought I was doing the right thing."

"Well." Romola searched for a word but nothing came. Her part in her demise could not be argued away but the story was not as her mother thought. "It happened. Why are you thinking different now?"

"I thought I would raise all of you to have a better life." Her mother's shoulder shook. "What happened with Jide showed me that I didn't."

"That wasn't your fault." Romola's shoulder hunched.

Her mother better not guilt trip her into trying to take the money. She didn't need it as much as they did.

"I thought you would come back home. You always did." Her mother continued. "and when you didn't, I been think say wetin they talk concern you dey true."

Trans: I thought you what they said about you was true.

The tears in Romola's eyes breached her eyelids. "I did come back home. And he chased me away. With a cutlass."

Her mother's wet eyelashes rose. "Not true."

Romola struggled with the belt on her jeans. She drew it through the hoops, cast it on the bed and pulled down her trousers till they settled just above her knees, turning so that her mother had a better view.

"Look at it Maami. Look at what your precious husband did to me."

The older woman stuck her index finger in her mouth and used her other hand to clamp her palm to her jaw- a muffled scream blocked by her clamped hands.

"If not for Sunbo, I don't know where I would be right now." Romola fought the tears in her eyes.

Her mother slapped the bed and faced the wall. A single tear fell from her face to her laps, where her wrapper laid bundled. Her lips quivered. The woman stared at the wall, unblinking.

"You did not even want to hear what I had to say. Why should I talk now?"

"Let me see it." Her mother eyes glistened with a wild look.

Romola showed her mother her disfigured thigh, with the flesh, vein and stretch mark that met in a convoluted mass in an attempt to cover the damage. The woman pulled the trousers lower and lower, revealing the whole length of the scar.

"Wait."

Her mother walked to the vanity table and grabbed an old grey cream tub. She opened it and the strong smell of shea butter filled the air. She dug her fingers into it and picked up a dollop before slapping it on Romola's scar.

"Maami?"

"Ssssh." Her leg was encased between her mother's laps as the woman massaged the shea butter into her skin in silence.

Romola's shoulders shook between sobs. It hurt her to watch her mother put salve on a wound that could not be healed by the touch of human hands. But she missed the connection with her mother. She let the woman's hand continue to roam across her disfigured skin.

Her mother's gentle touch drew her to time past; in her younger days, after a hot day of strolling under the burning Lagos sun to sell beans and bread they would sit under a tree, share a bottle of coke and talk. Sometimes, she would be held between her mother's laps while the woman braided her stubborn short hair and told stories. She missed those days. She longed for those days when she could ask questions about anything and get a small frown but know that an answer would follow.

"Where's Sunbo?" She'd voiced her thoughts out loud.

"Sunbo, that one. Waka waka. She comes home when she wants, especially when I'm asleep. The day I will catch her ehn."

"So, you don't know where Sunbo is?" Romola sat beside her mother, adjusting the slant of her leg to give the woman more massage room. "She should be reading for her Jamb right?"

"I have been shouting and shouting. She says its film she wants to act. Instead of her to study something like medicine or law so she will get job quick."

"Maybe she will become Regina Daniels."

Her mother frowned. Romola shook her head, a naughty smile on her lips. Too fast too soon?

"Abi the chief will reject her. She's too stubborn to be anyone's wife."

"Sunbo won't even accept to be anyone's second wife." Romola said.

Her mother's shoulder rose and fell. Not from the tears in her eyes but as an accompaniment to the little side-way lifting of her lips. "I just want her to focus on her studies."

A heavy sigh escaped Romola's chest. She understood her mother's wish. She was no longer the golden child and Sunbo would have to bear her mother's dreams now.

"I will talk to her. If you don't mind."

"I know she listens to you, with all that stubbornness in her. I don't know why she is like that."

Romola swallowed her words about her stepfather. So far, Lolade seemed to be the only child that did not display some of his characteristics. It wasn't certain. She was still, in many ways, young and very impressionable. She would grow too- one day and make up her mind. But not in this house. Not under his influence.

Her mother's hand fell from her leg, then picked the chain again, squeezing it. "She wanted to be like you and you were so close to finishing."

Not the guilt trip. "I tried. I really did."

"You did not try hard enough."

"They asked me to sleep with them or be expelled. It didn't even matter. My pictures were everywhere." Romola spat then drew back, her shoulder hunching. Other than Daddy Tobi and Esther, she had never discussed the details of that night with anyone.

"Hmm." Her mother folded her arms.

Silence stretched between them. Romola could taste the question on the edge of her mother's lips. How different would her life had been if she had done as the professors asked. Yes, they could make the pictures go away but they could not put her inner self back together. She was an inside-out humpty dumpty.

"I didn't do it. I couldn't do it."

"I didn't ask." The older woman crossed her arms. "But I should have."

"You believed what you thought was true" Yetunde had controlled the narrative her mother heard and created a damage far heavier than the web of lies she had spun could sustain.

"And what is true, Moromola?"

Romola starred at her mother's wrinkled hard hands. "I don't know anymore."

"I wanted you to finish school but not like that." Her mother said. "Never like that. Not with men like your father."

Her father. She'd never cared about the man. He was nothing more than an abstract reminder of her mother's ruin and her creation.

"Have you tried applying to another school? Maybe if Sunbo sees you going back, she will be serious."

"I have. It's online and I'm even trying to save money."

"Then you should take the money Jide gave me back."

"No. Don't worry."

"Romola-"

She knew her mother would not listen to her. She rose and pulled up her trousers, covering the scar and making a show of staring at her it. She hugged her mother and pulled away before the woman had time to protest.

"There is something I must do. I will ask for the money when I need it."

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I hope you enjoyed this part but even more, I hope you had a wonderful Christmas as this year is coming to an end.

I've had a lot to be thankful for this season. And your readership is one of them. It's been a year of ups and downs.

My word for you going into the new year is to value the time with your loved ones.