Utianle

It didn't rain today. It hasn't in two days.

The sun blasted through the floor-to-ceiling window, creating a shadow on the machine. My arms screamed in protest as I hit the red button on the sewing machine, I adjusted the polyester material under the fat needle poking out and another yawn escaped me. The weight of my eyelids threatening to close should have motivated me to take a much-needed break but I couldn't. I had to finish these shirts today, before his arrival.

Sparing a glance at my hand, I stared at the lines which disappeared into the bandaid adorning the centre of my palm. I traced a path on the sticky tape, my nails brushed the edge of the brown material too light for my skin. My stomach growled, my insides knotted in rage. I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to reach for the plate, to feed. Good mothers didn't eat without their children; their baby. Yes, he would be back. Soon.

Rip it off or be gentle, would it hurt? I let the questions float in my head as I peeled the bandaid from the side. If it ended up causing more pain, good for me. Pain was a welcome change from the constant feeling of hunger I was fast getting accustomed to.

The faint aroma from the sealed stainless plate wafted into my nostrils, I pursed my lips. What could be inside this time?

He always cooked, maybe someone else did. If I bothered to get out of this room, I might have the answers to these questions. But I needed to be here on his return, he would come here after greeting Uncle Kiki, after telling him how much he missed him. Then he would shout, "Mummy," and throw his arms around my shoulders. My baby boy.

I would never let him out of my sight again.

Maybe he might report me to Uncle Kiki. I chuckled or I tried to, what did it matter? What difference did it make? After all, I never wanted us to go to the birthday party.

A sound too hollow to have been classified as laughter slipped from my lips, I rubbed my eyes which remained dry as the Sahara desert. Placing a hand over my heart that had forgotten how to function properly, I wheezed and my chest tightened with a new weight. A weight that plunged into my stomach with each passing thought of him.

Muffled voices from the bed painfully drew me out of my trance and my shoulders fell. These people would not let me be, I had no time to myself. I would have screamed but I had to reserve my energy for him. A woman could not work without their loud footsteps, incessant disturbances and daily checkups.

Have you eaten? Eat what? What was food?

Even when they were not here, their forlorn faces loomed over me like a hurricane waiting to happen. I saw it in his honey eyes but I didn't need it. Pity was for those who lost their sons, not me, he would be back. I could still hear his laughter. Oh, my boy. My eyes closed, the familiar thrumming in my head resumed and I massaged my temples.

He would be back, he promised me cake. Big cake for me and Esther, all I had to do was sit here, sew some clothes to pass the time while waiting for him. It wasn't hard.

Someone grunted behind me, once, twice. I groaned, pressing a few buttons on the wheelchair which rotated in the direction of the sound. Gliding towards the bed, at the figure curled under the sheets, twisting and turning, incoherent thoughts clouded my head like fog on a harmattan morning, I stared at the girl, trying to remember her.

Sweat coated her forehead, wet the covers even with the AC on full blast. It tugged on my heartstrings and I reached for her, only to be pulled down by the immobile part of my body. My gaze travelled down my feet.

These legs. These useless legs.

The wheelchair hit the edge of the bed but she rolled to the middle, taking the sheet along with her. I couldn't get to her, this awfully familiar girl with her frizzy braids and a face that resembled mine. My brain refused to register the face, her relevance. Maybe because she always followed him to check up on me, to know if I had eaten and practised the exercises the doctor gave me.

Two pests. Two human pests.

Her head jerked in my direction, she sucked in a sharp breath and screamed with her eyes closed, kicking off the covers to reveal her flowery gown. My heart took flight at the sight, she was hurting too. A strange sense of protectiveness engulfed me, my fingers dug into the wheelchair as I tried to lift myself but I collapsed with a heavy sigh.

My hands ran over the armrests like they would provide me with superpowers to move. Why must everything be difficult?

"Wake up," I whispered. Images flashed in my head, panic settled over me and half of my body lunged forward, vibrating with urgency. No. I sniffed. Not again. "Wake up."

Despair rattled my insides, the same feeling of helplessness as I watched tears leak from the corners of her eyes. "Wake up. Please."

Still, she wouldn't wake, only cried harder. My teeth found the inside of my cheek, I let go when the taste of blood threatened to suffocate me. If only she would move, I could comfort her. She was close, yet so far.

My hands connected with the bedstead, I gripped the wooden material so hard I lost feeling in my fingers. But I moved. I moved.

The bed sunk with my weight, I cradled her head before she could move. Stroking her cheek unleashed familiar memories, I had done this many times, so, I let my fingers guide me, guide her into regular breathing and eventually, a peaceful slumber.

Her relaxed face made my lips curl into a ghost of a smile, I bent to peck her forehead and froze when she said, "Mummy?"

Mummy? Who? Oh, me. Mummy. Her eyes flew open, the same colour as mine and my smile grew bigger. My knuckles brushed her cheek, she held my hand in place like she feared I would leave. "Yes. Esther?" Her head bobbed, I sighed. "Mummy is here."

She sat up and her tiny arms circled my shoulders for the briefest of moments.

I would have believed the brief hug to be a figment of my imagination if she didn't place a kiss on my cheek. She smiled so brightly it hackled the darkness in my heart. I giggled, she giggled, lowering herself back to the bed to resume her former position. My fingers relocated to her forehead to stroke it, her hand went over her mouth to cover a yawn. She patted the space beside her but I shook my head. It would be good to lay beside her but I had to finish sewing.

The phone on the table accommodating my machine rang, it took a few seconds for me to realise the device belonged to me. My eyes darted to her face, her braids. Her long lashes created a shadow over her cheeks and her lips puckered; Esther. I smiled.

My stubborn baby.

Sound asleep with the covers pulled to her chin, I pecked her forehead once. Twice. Thrice until I was peppering kisses all over her face to protect her from evil. I might have continued if the phone didn't ring again. She needed to know, I loved her too.

"I love you, baby," I muttered to her sleeping frame. Even without hearing her reply, a load lifted off my shoulders. "Very much."

Getting into the bed might have been hard but as I stared wistfully at the wheelchair, I knew this would be harder. Fear clawed at my throat, I balled my hands into a fist to reduce the trembling. Taking a deep breath, I pushed myself to the edge, one move and I would be seated. What if the caller had good news, I would miss it if I stayed here.

My hands met with the wheelchair, my relief turned sour and I watched in horror as my only source of movement rolled a few inches backwards to a painful stop. It was within walking distance but I was currently teetering on the brink of partial paralysis.

I couldn't do it.

The phone was still ringing, that irritating sound that was associated with iPhones. I plugged my fingers into my ears. Didn't the caller get the hint? I couldn't reach it, I couldn't do it, I couldn't do anything. Just useless. My chest rose and fell, I exhaled feverishly, sparing sleeping Esther a glance.

Why couldn't I sleep peacefully too?

Each step--step was too decent a word to describe my movement. Each wobble to the wheelchair felt like thousands of needles pricking at my feet. Numbness paved way for pain, I might have been an imbecile with the way my face contorted and my legs danced under me in an unsteady rhythm.

But I moved. I made it to the chair.

Wheeling myself to the new iPhone, I picked and it occurred to me after hearing her groan to have identified the caller first. The sharp voice from the other end caused me to wince, reminding me why I made it a point of duty to skip her calls. Another pest.

"Uti. Uti. Utianle."

My shoulders sagged, I sighed. "Faith."

"Faith, what?" she screamed into my ear and I pulled the phone away to place it face down on the table. The outside view caught my attention, maybe it didn't but I needed to distract myself. From her accusatory voice.

The phone rang again, I stared at it long enough for it to stop ringing. Retrieving the shirt I was working on earlier, I turned on the machine, letting the whirrs drown out the boring ringtone. She would grow tired soon and the calls would stop pouring in.

But it didn't. The phone beeped with a text, I let my curiosity lead me and my fingers moved across the screen. There were many messages before this but this one was pleading, asking forgiveness for a sin she never committed. She couldn't understand, no one did. Only a mother could. Only me.

You haven't been online in days, what's up?

Uti!!!!! Where are you? I have gist, call me.

This woman, I will wound you o. Call me when you get this message. CALL ME. CALL ME. CALL ME. CALL ME. CALL ME. PLEASE.

Oya sorry for the threat, bestie of life. What's going on? I miss you, call me na. Ehn. Work is killing me, I need my gist partner. Call me.

My finger moved over her last message, the longest so far, I rubbed my screen as if it would wipe the text and possibly her from existence. I didn't want to hear her voice. My heart skipped, she was still my Faith.

Utianle. You and your boyfriend won't pick my calls, what did I do? I miss you, I miss my best friend. At least tell me what I did wrong. Is it because I shouted? Okay, I won't shout at you again. I promise. I'm sorry. Call me. Okay, just text me. Please. I'm worried. I love you.

I hit the call button before I had a chance to change my mind, placed it on speaker and my heart thumped as the phone rang uninterruptedly. Only one minute so she would stop pestering me. There was no reason for her to worry, it was maddening enough dealing with two mother hens, I didn't need another one. As the oldest among us, I should do the worrying.

"Uti," she breathed out. My hands moved to my knees as silence fell over us. "Sorry for shouting, I didn't mean it. I was worried."

I knew that. I swallowed the lump stuck in my throat, eyes fixated on the screen and rubbed my clammy palms together.

"It's fine," I said. Her heavy breathing filled the silence, I ran my tongue over my lips. Silence was not our style. "How are you?" My voice sounded hoarse, it had been so long since I spoke at length. "How's Lagos? Does it rain as much as it does here?"

"You have not been picking my calls, why?" she asked, cutting straight to the chase. Of course, she could see past my poor attempt at a conversation. "What's happening?"

"Nothing," I replied and a sigh greeted me from her end. "My phone spoilt." It did. King got me this one, he was forever buying me fancy things like this stupid phone and the machine. He even bought this wheelchair. "Forget about me for now, how are you?"

Digging my nails into my palms, a sinister smile crawled to my lips and I fidgeted with the idea of telling her about my legs. There was so much she didn't know and I couldn't tell her. I didn't know how. I gulped. She was not here so there was no point.

"I miss you. It's barely up to three months and we are already growing apart." My heart sunk to my stomach, it felt longer than three months, maybe years. "I don't like it. We are still in the same country and communication is an issue, what happens if any of us travels out?" Then, she would have Junior, he loved her too. It had been so long I saw him, none of them had come here. "Uti, what's really going on? Tell me."

My breath hitched, I picked my phone and put it off speaker mode. "Faith, I miss you."

She sniffed.

Hard girl, hard girl but she was already in tears. I would have teased her for getting emotional but her cries tore at my heart. I missed her too. One month was too long to go without speaking to your best friend.

The weight of my unspoken request almost suffocated me, I swallowed hard and my eyes stung. "Can you come? I need you."

"Uti..." she trailed off and I prepared for the disappointment that was certain to follow. "I can't, not right now. I'm not eligible for a leave, I've not stayed here long enough."

The throbbing in my temples resumed, I rested my head on the table. I didn't want to hear it, I needed positive news. "Please."

"I'm sorry."

Everybody was. It was the new anthem. I managed a laugh, my chest tightened and my lips pressed into a thin line as my head bobbed. "It's fine. I miss you too much, that's all." An argument was already coming from her but I cut her off, it didn't matter. "Don't mind me, it's fine. I'll wait. Next month."

"Are you sure?"

There was an urgency in her question, a plea for me to understand. "Yes." I fiddled with the hem of my shirt, wiped my sweaty palm on my skirt. "Next month, right?"

Our chat went on for a few minutes, I tried to pay attention, answer with as much enthusiasm but her rejection stung. I would have left everything I was doing as soon as she called. I would have been there for her.

"What of Emma? It has been a while."

I blinked. Black dotted my vision briefly and I leaned back into the chair. "He is resting." Far away from that incompetent doctor. I picked the shirt, I was almost done with it. "I am making a vintage shirt for him."

Her excitement transferred to me, laughter rumbled in my chest, spilled from my lips.

"Emma is now a big boy oo, wearing vintage shirt. Well-done, mummy." I giggled, hoping he would like it as much as she did. "What of Esther?" I glanced at the bed. "I miss all of you. We should make a video call soon."

"Esther is fine, she's sleeping," I replied with my eyes resting on Esther. "Next time, you can video call." Sadness burrowed into my chest as she murmured her agreement. The smile that graced my lips didn't reach my eyes, I heaved a sigh. "Faith, I have to go."

"Okay. Okay." The line went quiet for a few seconds, I called out her name. "Don't be a stranger." But we were already there, or, at least, we were nearing that stage. Familiar strangers. "Call me every day, gist me, just talk to me. I will call you too. Please pick."

My left eye twitched. "I will."

"I love you," she said. "I love you, bestie."

The thrum of the AC became more audible, I murmured, "Me too." And I ended the call.

King met me staring out the window, his eyes scanned my face and he crouched in front of me. I leaned into his touch, his palm cupped my cheek and my lips sealed when he asked about my wellbeing. A tiny smile flashed across his lips, I managed to reciprocate it. I had to. He was still here, he wasn't like the other males who always left.

"You didn't eat," he said. His eyes fleeted to the untouched plate, I looked down at my feet. I didn't want to see the concern in his eyes. He hooked a finger under my chin, I raised my gaze to his face and he bopped my nose. "It's alright, we can prepare something else. What do you want to eat?"

Nothing. I shrugged, he smiled.

Unbelievably close to me, his breath fanned my face and his beards tickled my skin. He needed a haircut. Encouraged by his smile, I tugged on his beards and his lips puckered into a pout. This stubborn man. Uncle Kiki.

"What have you been doing?" he asked.

Based on doctor's instructions, King's hand circled my ankle, he stretched my leg the way he had been doing since I regained feeling there, folding it at the knee. My hands moved to the vintage shirt, I held it up to his face and he offered me a smile.

I beamed. "This. I am making it for him."

The lights in King's eyes dimmed, those orbs no longer lighted the room like it did on his arrival. His brief disinterest stung, he pried the shirt off my hands and tossed it on the table. I eyed his movements as his hand neared my face, his touches were gentler as he traced a line on my cheek with a smile so sad it made my heart ache. What did I do?

"The shirt is fine. Well-done."

Sitting on the tiled floors, he rotated my foot in a clockwise, then anticlockwise motion, never once meeting my eyes. I tucked my hands between my laps, annoyed. He didn't have to be jealous, I could make a vintage shirt for him. Matching shirts for the men.

"King." He looked up from his feet massage. The corners of my lips curved into a smile, hoping for him to mimic the action. But he didn't and it burned my insides. I pulled my legs from his grasp and cleared my throat, he remained stoic. "It's fine, you can leave."

When he didn't counter me like he should have, I bit the inside of my cheek, missing his touch. He stood, smoothed the front of his shorts without kissing me. Mumbling under his breath, he turned to the door.

The words died in my throat as the distance grew, I gulped when his hand closed over the door handle. I wanted him to stay. But he was gone without a backward glance.