King

Grace Daniels was a beautiful, malicious yet elegant woman; her presence commanded attention, forced a room into silence until she gave the go-ahead to resume speaking. Grace was my mother and she was standing at my doorsteps in her signature black Jalamia with matching turban, staring at us like we were preventing her from entering her castle.

"Why are you holding hands with the maid?" I felt rather than saw Uti tense beside me at Mother's question. Her hold on my hand loosened and her fingers slipped through mine when I tried to clasp it again.

Leave it up to Mother to make an entrance, casually throw a degrading statement that was sure to smolder your defences. Something she did while observing you like a vulture waiting for a malnourished child to die so she could finally sink her tentacles into you for the final blows.

"Mother! Be nice," I warned. We were both aware that I didn't have maids and the sight of Uti must have shaken her up. She wasn't one to venture anywhere unprepared and I was delighted at my ability to pull a fast one on her.

Savouring in my short-term victory, I decided to take things a notch higher. "This is my fiancée, Utianle. Maybe now you will stop sending me pictures of eligible daughters-in-law." I was the only one who noticed the fleeting change in her demeanour.

King: 1 - Mother: 0.

"Uti is fine. Welcome, Ma." Uti's voice was smaller than usual and my arms around her waist did nothing to ease the tension that was radiating from her.

Letting go of Uti, I engulfed Mother in a hug, placing kisses on both of her cheeks. "Welcome, I thought your flight was moved," she nodded. "You should have called; I would have come to pick you up. Anything for my mama," I added the last part to appease her, my way of asking her to leave Uti out of her taunts.

"There's something called Bolt, you know," she teased. Her smile morphed into a sincere one, the annoyance on her feature replaced by a look of mischief.

She broke from the hug, erupting into a bout of coughs that seemed practised. When I raised an eyebrow in inquiry, a knowing grin lifted the corners of her lips and her eyes danced with excitement. Digging out her phone from her purse, she dialed a number that rang uninterruptedly, the smirk still plastered on her lips.

Uti and I watched, the wheels in our head turning as we both tried to figure out what Mother was up to. Our confusion cleared when a light-skinned lady in a grey crop top, matching cargo pants and Yeezy sneakers strolled out of the gateman's bungalow to stand beside her. Inevitably, my eyes went to her nipples poking through her shirt, stopping at her flat, toned belly and I let out a low whistle; I would bend her over any day, any time.

Utianle shifted uneasily beside me, probably noticing my wandering gaze and I pulled her closer to me, cursing at my mind for conjuring lewd images of this sports model. Mother saw this and her smile broadened; that was her plan all along.

"This is Helena, she will be staying with me." She sounded pleased with herself, urging Helena to greet us.

"Mother!"

"Oh, don't be like that." She raised one hand up like she was shooing a pesky fly, "you know my back hurts and your father is never around, so, I need the company."

"Since when does your back hurt?"

"Since I found out I was coming to Calabar." To buttress her point, she poked a finger at her side, letting out an exaggerated wail while Helena patted her back comfortingly.

Heaven knew she was as fit as a fiddle with the strict diet plans she followed, hours at the gym, routine medical check-ups, time spent at the spa and beauty salon to maintain her youthful look of late thirties when she was two decades older.

"Babe, where do you want me to put this?" Uti's voice penetrated the air, reminding us of her presence that we had momentarily forgotten. She held Helena's luggage in one hand, the other limb lingering on the doorknob; the guest room had been prepared to accommodate only one person.

Though the words were directed at me, it was Mother who answered her. "Put it on my head," she responded in that sweet sickly voice of hers that repeatedly won her the position of the President of Catholic Women Organization.

* * *

Mother and Helena had showered, they had also gotten a change of clothes by the time the food was served. As usual, Helena wore a top that revealed her stomach, making me wonder if those were the only type of shirts she came with. Every time I caught Uti rolling her eyes at Helena's joke which only Mother was laughing at, she would reward me with a wink.

Helena's phone suddenly rang, breaking her streak of dry jokes. Mother's gaze strayed to mine and I raised an eyebrow, half hoping she wouldn't do the needful so I could have an excuse to lash out at her guest the way she did with Uti when she was setting up the extra room.

"Helena, dear, no calls at the dining table." Offering her apologies, Helena excused herself, leaving the room in a state of quiet that was soon broken by my mother.

"So, Utianle," I winced at the use of her full name, mentally applauding Uti for keeping up a brave front. "What do you do?"

"I'm a fashion designer."

"A polished name for a tailor." Her look of disdain was transferred to me, "King Daniels. Your fiancée is a tailor, how lovely!"

Resisting the urge to scoff, I redirected my focus to Uti, watching her face for any sign of distress, there was none.

"How old are you?"

"35."

"35?" Mother shrieked; I did a better job of masking my surprise. Not once did the subject of her age come into our conversation and I didn't care for it enough to bring it up; age was just a number. "Any kids?"

Her response to this question was delayed, "none."

"King," Mother drawled out. "Your fiancée is a gold digger; she is going to sew her way into your fortune. For all we know, she is probably barren too."

Uti's fork clattered loudly to her plate and a vein appeared on her forehead.

"She's not and if she is barren, that's fine by me, we can always adopt." Uti rewarded my statement with a grateful smile that made me wish she was seated by my side.

Waving off my last remark, her voice lowered conspiratorially. "Helena is a lawyer, her family is of royal descent, so you don't have to worry about her being an opportunist." Her eyes gleamed at her last words; she was easily moved by power.

"Unlike your tailor fiancée here, she's young and very fertile, fit to raise my grandbabies, the next generation of Daniels."

Folding her tablecloth into the shape of a triangle, Uti pushed her half-eaten plate of spaghetti away. "I have two kids, two beautiful kids born of a man who cheated on me with another man until his death." She shook her head to stop me from interrupting her. "And because of judgmental women like you, I have spent the last few years pretending to be their elder sister in hopes that the society will learn to accept broke single mothers like us. But I see now that it will never happen."

"Besides, the only reason you are not wearing leaves is because of a tailor." When she was certain that her words had registered, she stood up, "excuse me."

"You are excused," Mother still managed to utter like she was dismissing an errant staff.

"Sit down," she motioned to me when I made a move to stand. "You should be thankful to me for helping you identify that con artist. I know her type, they are damaged women looking for the next available rich man to trap, don't be fooled by her rehearsed speech."

Burying my face in my hands, I tried to wipe out the image of Uti's eyes from my memory, still in shock at the amount of hurt swimming in them. "Now I understand why you were married six times."

The sound of her palm connecting with my cheek reverberated in the dining room, the look of surprise on her face mirroring mine.

"I'm sorry."

"You owe Utianle an apology, not me." Rubbing my cheeks harder than I should have to increase her guilt, I took off in the direction Uti went.

* * *

"Uti, open up." I banged gently on the door of the bathroom, hoping that this time she would listen to me; she had been in there for over an hour. "She's sorry, she didn't mean any of those things she said."

A faint sniffling sound floated to my ears and I banged harder. The door opened after and Uti emerged with red eyes and a forced smile.

She flinched when I raised my hands up and I shortened the distance between us, hesitantly pulling her into my embrace. I rubbed circles on her back, the wet patch on my chest growing bigger with her tears.

"It's just the hormones, I'm fine." She whispered when her cries finally reduced to hiccups, pushing me away to stand on her own.

"Let me take care of you," she tensed, only relaxing slightly when I hurriedly added, "just for tonight."

Tucking her arms into the crook of my armpit, I carried her bridal style, ignoring the part of my brain that wanted me to notice how well she fit in my arms. She curled into a foetal position when I dropped her on the bed, inching away from me till there was a reasonable distance between us. Even with her eyes closed, the worry lines on her forehead didn't disappear.

At a loss for what to do, I connected my phone to the Bluetooth speaker that was always on the bedside drawer, letting Asa's rendition of So beautiful feel the air; music always made everything better. Uti's shoulder visibly sagged but the lines remained.

Absentmindedly, my fingers caressed her scalp, running in a zigzag pattern till her breath evened out. When her snores filled the room and the lines disappeared, I continued my caresses, afraid that any other movement might cause the lines to reappear.

*****

This chapter wasn't supposed to be this long (sorry); it was meant to be all about King's mother tackling him but somehow, Uti was the one under fire and I am so glad that the fact that Emma and Esther are her kids is out of the way now. It was supposed to be revealed later on but since there are still a lot of drama to come 😑😑

kingAdesuwa, this one is for you; you know you are my boo and bae all in one 😉.

Fun fact: My name, Amara, translates to Grace, so, yeah, I like King's mother.

Okay. Bye. This author note is starting to get too long.