—

Osita left the others in the upstairs parlor and went to walk around downstairs. He caught the sound of his mother’s voice and followed it to the backyard, where they were wrapping small mounds of akpu with cling film and stacking them into coolers. Round black pots sat on squat metal frames with firewood shoved underneath, a nest of red and gray embers. The air was hot and fragrant, and the women were wiping their faces with handkerchiefs.

Mary looked up as her son made his way toward her. “Is everything all right?” she asked. She was wearing a green blouse with a gold wrapper tied over it.

Osita didn’t know what to say or why he had come down. He bent and hugged her instead. It took a minute of surprise before she hugged him back. “Ehn, my son,” she said. “It will be well. You hear? Don’t worry. God is taking care of it.” She patted his back. “It’s okay. Go back inside and check on your uncle.”

Osita nodded and Mary watched him leave with an overwhelming gratitude that he was alive and walking. She looked over at Vivek’s grave, the soil fresh and loose, and said a quick prayer before turning back to her work.

Twenty-two

Osita didn’t want to go with the girls to his aunt’s house to show her the photographs. He told Juju this when she called to tell him they were going that Sunday, after church.

“Osita said he’s not coming down for it,” she told the other girls, gathered in Somto’s bedroom.

Elizabeth shrugged. She was more than happy to not see Osita.

“Wait, repeat yourself,” said Somto. “He said what?”

“That he’s not coming, that we can manage it by ourselves. You know, women to women.”

“Women to women wetin? Abeg, dial his number for me. What nonsense.” Once she had him on the phone, Somto went straight to shouting. “Are you mad? Is this not your own aunty that we’re going to see? And are you not the one who said, Oh, it’s by force we must show her these pictures? My friend, you better bring yourself down here, or else I’m calling the whole thing off. Useless rat.”

Osita held the phone away from his ear. “Ah-ahn, Somto, relax! You want me to come all the way just to sit there for what, thirty minutes?”

“Didn’t you come just the other day when we all met up? Osita, I’m not playing with you. Vivek was your cousin. Aunty Kavita is your aunty. Don’t think you can escape this one.”

Olunne leaned toward the phone and chimed in, “Besides, you’re in some of the pictures, so she’s going to know you were involved. It’s better you’re there to explain yourself rather than trying to run away from it.”

“We’re not showing her those ones,” Osita said. “Juju agreed.”

“I don’t actually care. If you don’t come, your aunty will see those ones.”

Osita sighed at her blackmailing. “Oya, fine. I’ll be there.”

“Sunday at three o’clock. If we don’t see you, I will make everybody turn around.” Somto hung up without waiting to hear Osita’s reply.

Juju raised her eyebrows. “This girl, you no dey play.”

“I don’t have that boy’s time. Let’s just get this over with.”

Elizabeth was snacking noisily on a pack of Burger peanuts. “Do you think we should all tell our own parents before we tell Aunty Kavita? Since we were involved.”

Olunne shot her a look. “Are you mad? He was her son. How can we go and be exposing him to other people before his own mother finds out? Can you imagine how humiliated she would be?”

“Don’t mind Elizabeth,” said Somto. “She’s just worrying about what her parents will do if they find out about her involvement from Aunty Kavita instead of from her.” Elizabeth made a face in response.

“But you know what?” said Juju. “She might not even say anything. She might want to keep it a secret.”

“Or she might call everyone and shout at them,” countered Elizabeth.

“We’ll tell her none of our parents knew about it,” said Olunne.

Her sister looked at her. “Why are you even saying it like that? They didn’t know. It’s not like we’re lying.”

“She might think they knew—as in, how could he get away with it under their roofs, that kind of thing.”

“Come on. This is Naija. Which parents will know about something like that and not report it back to her immediately?”

The other girls nodded in agreement. What Somto said made sense. That was why they’d kept it from their parents, to protect Vivek from those who didn’t understand him. They barely understood him themselves, but they loved him, and that had been enough.

Osita met them outside the gate of Chika and Kavita’s house, where he was leaning against the fence with his hands digging into his pockets.

“Good,” said Somto. “You’re here.”

He pushed himself off the fence. “Before nko? You have the pictures?”

Juju held up the envelope in response.

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Wait,” said Olunne. “Is your uncle at home? I thought we were telling only Aunty Kavita first.”

“He goes to the sports club every Sunday afternoon,” said Osita. “He’s started doing it again. You know he was refusing to leave the house before.”

“It’s good that he’s there,” Juju said. “My popsy said they were meeting for a drink.”

Olunne nodded in relief. It was one thing to show those pictures to Aunty Kavita, even as unstable as she’d been behaving, but it was another thing completely to show them to Uncle Chika. Who knew how an Igbo man would react at seeing pictures like that of his first and only son? It was better to meet only with his mother. It was safer that way.

* * *

—

Kavita sat them all down in the parlor without offering them anything, because they were children and they were there about Vivek and she had long since given up caring about niceties. Something in her knew that whatever they were coming to say would be a culmination of the weeks she’d spent harassing them for answers. It seeded a small anger in her. When she had told Chika they were lying, when she told their parents the children were lying, no one had believed her. Yet here they all were—even her own nephew—lined up on her sofa with their guilty faces, holding secrets behind their lips. She wanted to slap them.

The girls looked around at one another, uncertain of who should speak first. Osita was sitting apart from them in an armchair, arms folded over his stomach, looking down at the carpet. Juju felt the task should fall to her; Elizabeth and Somto would be too brash, and Olunne would be too gentle. Besides, Juju was the one holding the pictures. The envelope was hot in her hand, dragging her arm down with its weight. She rested it in her lap and turned to Kavita.

“We have something to show you,” she said. “But first I want to explain why we didn’t tell you about this before.”

“Well, Vivek told us not to,” said Somto, under her breath. They all glared at her and she raised her hands in apology, falling silent.

“We were trying to protect him,” continued Juju, “and we were also trying to protect you and Uncle Chika.”

Kavita was sitting with her back straight, perched on the edge of her seat cushion. Her eyes fell to the envelope Juju was holding and she put a hand on her chest as if she could calm her heart. “What’s inside there?” she asked.

Juju looked at the envelope. There wasn’t much point in words; the photographs would tell Kavita better than she could. She held the envelope out, her hand shaking a little. Kavita stared at it hovering in the space between them, then reached out and took it. She didn’t open it at once. How could she? You can chase the truth, but who could avoid the moment of hesitation when you wonder if you really want what you’ve been asking for? Kavita knew that what the envelope held had power, enough to scatter her, enough for them to have held together against her for so long, even in the face of a dead child, even against her grief.