Cursed Daughters by Oyinkan Braithwaite - 13

Monife stretched comfortably across two bodies on the sofa – her head and shoulders were on Ebun’s lap; her legs were resting on her boyfriend’s. Her thigh jiggled as he argued with her brother, who was sitting across from them. Football. This was what happened whenever Tolu got talking – he would bring up football, aiming to convert whomever into supporting his team. It was exhausting. She popped a TomTom in her mouth and flipped a page of her latest Mills & Boon read.

Her boyfriend was struggling to keep up with her brother’s encyclopedic knowledge. He was getting louder and louder. Mo slipped on the headphones of her Walkman and pressed play. Aaliyah’s ‘Back & Forth’ flooded her ears. There! She was free of all discussion of Arsenal vs Man U. She flipped another page.

They were in the east wing living room, which was the largest reception space in the house. The furniture in here was old but comfortable. There was a large Persian rug splayed across the centre of the room. And the wall was covered in history – pictures of the Falodun family for generations past. Most of the family treasures were in this room – the heavy draped curtains, the sculptures. It was also the room that had the most natural light in the house, and as such it was her favourite place to be.

‘Mo?’ They were all looking at her. She removed the headphones.

‘Sorry. Did I miss something?’

‘I’ve been calling your name,’ her boyfriend replied sulkily. ‘Your brother has invited me to join his match this afternoon.’ Mo raised her head and narrowed her eyes at Tolu, who was grinning. ‘Will you come?’

She didn’t want to. She sat up and swung her legs to the ground. The puppy – Sango – scrambled up from where he lay and followed her. The idea of spending the afternoon stroking her boyfriend’s ego and watching them kick a ball about did not excite her. But before she had a chance to reply, the lights suddenly turned off and the air-conditioning unit rattled to a stop – another NEPA power cut. The cuts were arbitrary and becoming more and more frequent. She sighed. If she and Ebun stayed home, they might end up barbecued.

The guys went ahead. Before the girls left, they dabbed their faces with powder and gloss and slipped into outfits that were a little more interesting than their loungewear. Mo brushed her thick hair into a high bun, and wore denim shorts and a T-shirt. She didn’t bother with jewellery. She grabbed her camera, determined to get something interesting out of the outing.

The boys were already playing when they showed up. Since it was simply a casual match between friends, Ebun and Monife made up fifty per cent of the spectators. Mo quickly spotted the boys on the pitch who were familiar to her – her boyfriend and brother were on opposing teams; then there was Chuka, whose nose took up most of his facial real estate; Oba, with his odd habit of wearing long sleeves no matter how unforgiving the heat; and handsome Dele, who she had once spent an enjoyable week making out with, something she could never tell her brother. Dele did look good, though. His forearms flexed and his skin glistened. He waved at her as he ran past, but she was careful not to wave back.

She didn’t expect to enjoy the game. It was just something to do. She had no desire to watch people kick balls, or throw balls, or bounce balls; no interest in seeing people run or jump. But there was a nice breeze, and a freezing-cold drink in her hand. She figured she would simply alternate between watching her boyfriend perform for her benefit and watching Dele also perform for her benefit. But as the game wore on, her attention was quickly stolen from them.

The thief was tall, smooth and cheeky with his movements. She found herself leaning forwards when he dummied an opposing player. His footwork was light, his movements unhurried. He didn’t look for the glory of scoring; instead he set up his teammates, his passes sniper-accurate, always going where he intended and to whom he intended; even she could tell that much. She watched as he danced to the right, then kicked the ball to his left.

She wasn’t usually into light-skin guys, but this one, he had the colouring of a brass coin and there didn’t seem to be a single blemish on him. He wasn’t as buff as Dele, he was perhaps even a little lanky, and yet there was something about the way he moved. Through her camera lens, he was even more intriguing. His hair was a curly mess atop his head, and there was a little fuzz on his chin. His lips were thick and tinged with pink. And then there was his neck, long and smooth. He was beautiful, and fun to watch.

He was playing for her boyfriend’s team, and clearly giving Tolu a run for his money; which was another reason she found him irresistible. She wondered if he was single.

He raised his head in her direction, possibly because she hadn’t taken her eyes off him since she spotted him. Ebun passed her another fizzy drink; she used her teeth to remove the bottle cap and drank without breaking her focus. She had never seen a person so visibly comfortable in their skin. He just seemed playful, joyful.

Then the game was over. She tried to keep her eyes on him as she made her way down from the bleachers, but she glanced away for a second, and when she looked back, he was gone. She searched the mix of boys but could not find him.

Tolu was dripping with sweat when she approached, so she handed him his towel. He wiped his face and tried to hand her back the towel, but she refused to touch it.

‘Did you enjoy the game?’

‘Sure.’

‘I was asking Ebun.’

Mo rolled her eyes, sighed and waited.

‘It was cool, Tolu. You guys played well.’

‘But they lost, right?’ said Mo.

‘You’re a brat,’ replied her brother.

‘Whatever. By the way, who was that light guy?’

‘Who?’

‘The light guy; the one making a fool of you people.’

‘He didn’t make—’

‘Right. Right. What’s his name?’

‘Why you asking? Last I checked, you had a boyfriend.’

‘Asking for a friend.’

Her brother rolled his eyes.

‘His name is Kalu. And before you ask, I don’t know really know him. Chuka brought him.’

‘Kalu.’ She repeated the name to herself. It sounded made for her mouth. Her boyfriend looked over at her from his conversation with two of his fellow players as she made her way to Chuka. She blew him a reassuring kiss. She found Chuka and Oba throwing their things into their gym bags. Chuka beamed at her as she drew closer. She mirrored his smile. Oba gave her a short nod, then excused himself and jogged towards the FanIce vendor selling his wares to the parched players.

‘Heyyy, Chuka.’

‘My future wife.’ He gave her a fist bump. ‘I thought you hated football.’

‘I do. But you played a good game.’

‘All thanks to Kalu, man. I barely had to do anything.’

‘Oh? Which one was Kalu?’

‘The tall yellow dude. Tolu’s boys have warned me not to bring him again.’ They both laughed, but secretly she hoped they would invite him back. How else would she manufacture a meet-cute?

‘Is he single?’

‘You’re interested in Kalu?!’ Chuka snapped his head back in an exaggerated effort to express his surprise.

‘Maybe. What’s it to you?’

‘Just wondering when it will be my turn, is all. Anyway, I wouldn’t have thought he was your type.’

‘Why?’

‘He is squeaky clean. As in, spotless. He scooped up all the top grades when we were at school, and he actually attended the extracurriculars – debate team, chess club, music club. He was head boy and I heard he got a first class at university … Aren’t you always skipping classes?’

‘Tolu talks too much.’

Chuka laughed. ‘He does. He can’t keep a secret to save his life.’

‘So he is some kind of golden boy?’

He shrugged. ‘Nice guy. A little tepid for you, Mo. But a good guy.’

‘He sounds too good to be true.’

‘Looks that way.’

She had to admit, he didn’t seem her type. Besides, as Tolu had been quick to point out, she did have a boyfriend; and she readied a smile for him as he jogged up to her.