“Adunni, get up,” he say and give me his hand.
I push myself to my feets. Big Madam is not slapping me again, but it is still feeling like my back is still collecting the slap. The pain feel like somebody rub hot pepper on my skin, before pouring kerosene and lighting matches to my body. The whole of everywhere is breathing with pain.
“Welcome, sah,” I say. I don’t kneel down to greet him. My knee cannot bend again. Nothing in my body is working correct.
“Adunni. Are you okay?” he ask.
“Okay, sah,” I say, even though we all know that I didn’t okay.
“Florence”—Big Daddy turn, face his wife—“you are the possessed one.”
Big Madam release a long breath, look as if she just finish eating a food that is so sweet, as if beating me is giving her life, hope. She look me up and down, hiss. “She is a useless girl,” she say. “A lazy good-for-nothing waste-of-space. I had to search the whole house this evening before I found her in the library, fast asleep.”
“And so you found her asleep in there and you decided to murder another woman’s child?” Big Daddy say, his voice climbing high. “I heard you from the driveway, Florence. The driveway! What if you had given her a fatal blow? Damaged her brain? Left her paralyzed? Would your excuse stand in the courts of justice?”
I don’t understand everything Big Daddy is saying, but I know he is angry with Big Madam.
“Now, Florence”—Big Daddy hold one finger up, twist it left and right—“let this be the last time you touch this child in this house. I repeat. Let this be the last time you lay a finger on Adunni. IS THAT CLEAR?”
Big Madam say something mumble about paying all bill and prostitute-girlfriend as she is walking away.
Big Daddy turn to me. “Are you all right?” he ask.
“Yes, sah,” I say. “Thank you, sah.”
“Come here.” He open his two hands wide, like he wants to collect something. “Come on. Don’t be afraid. Come.”
I plant my feets in the ground, look him. What is he wanting me to do? To give him a embrace? Or to what? When I don’t move, he come near me and wrap his hand around my body.
I stiff, press my hand to his chest, but he just squeeze tight.
“Don’t mind her, Adunni,” he say, pressing his mouth inside my neck areas. His mustaches is scratching my skin, breath hot and smelling of butter-mint and small drink. “You hear me?”
“Yes, sah.” I talk with my teeths close tight. “Work is waiting for me, sah. Please let me be going to—”
“I want you to feel free with me in this house,” he say, cutting my words, holding me more tight. “Florence will not be able to touch you if you let me protect you.”
I push his chest hard, collect myself from his hand, and run to the backyard. I was running fast and I didn’t see Kofi beside the outside tap, I jam him by the shoulder, nearly falling him and myself and the basin he was holding to the floor. Kofi set the basin on the floor and grip the wall with one hand to steady hisself.
“Adunni!” he shout, offing the tap. “Are you okay? Why . . . What is chasing you?”
I press my hand on my knees to slow my breathing. “Big Daddy,” I say. “He was holding me too tight, just now. I collect myself from him and run fast.”
“Big Daddy was holding you?” Kofi say, concern. “Why? Where is his wife?”
“I didn’t too sure why,” I say. “Big Madam just finish beating me, then Big Daddy say he wants me to feel free and that he wants to protect me. What is he wanting from me, Kofi?”
I look Kofi, fear in my eyes. I know what Big Daddy is wanting, but I am afraid to think it. To say it.
“Is that man cursed or something?” Kofi say, talking quiet. “Ah, chale, but I warned you to be careful.”
“I been trying to be be-careful,” I say, feeling tears climb down my cheeks. “I don’t want trouble in this Lagos and I cannot be going back to Ikati, but the man, the Big Daddy man, he was holding me tight, making me to fear. The other time, I catch him looking me one kind of way. Help me, Kofi, please.”
“Don’t cry,” Kofi say, shaking his head with a sad sigh. “There must be something . . . I’ll think of something that can help you. Stop crying, you hear?”
“Thank you,” I say, wiping my cheeks with the edge of my dress as I leave his front to begin my evening toilet washing.
When I finish my work and climb into bed at midnight, my body is sore, my back on fire.
My fingers feel like a stiff curve of plastic, and I know it is because I been holding the cleaning cloth too tight, for too long. I try to sleep, but when I close my eyes, I see Big Daddy’s teeths, sharp like a blade, bleeding with blood, coming for me.
CHAPTER 28
Fact: Nigerians are known for their love of parties and events. In 2012 alone, Nigerians spent over $59 million on champagne.
Big Madam is doing big party on Sunday.
She been running mad with preparations for it, shouting every second. “Adunni, wash every corner in the downstairs toilet,” she will say, pointing a fat hand with dancing flesh to the toilet door. “Use the new toothbrush I bought yesterday to scrub the grout before you bleach the bathroom tiles. Did you scrub the backyard fence like I asked you to? You did? Do it again. Scrub it until the cement sparkles like my mother’s gravestone. Don’t forget the mirrors in the dining room.”
Yesterday afternoon, a tall white van drive inside the compound. When I run outside to look who is inside it, all I see is one brown cow sitting inside the back of the van, licking the fly perching on his nose. I watch as Kofi drag the cow down and tie the neck to the coconut tree in the backyard with a long rope. “This will be slaughtered for barbecue meat and beef stew on Sunday,” Kofi say as he slap the cow on his buttocks and laugh.
“Why is Big Madam doing party preparations?” I ask Kofi this morning as I am sitting outside in the hot sun, washing the gold lace tablecloth. “Is the party tomorrow for Big Madam’s birthday?”
“No,” Kofi say. He is sitting on a bench beside me, picking beans in a tray. “The party on Sunday is for the Wellington Road Wives Association. Big Madam is the president of the group.”
“The what you say?”
“The WRWA,” Kofi say. “A bunch of middle-aged women who formed an association as an excuse to get dressed and get drunk. They say they are trying to raise funds, money to help the poor. All lies! They meet once a quarter and host in turns. Big Madam is hosting November’s meeting.”