Cursed Daughters by Oyinkan Braithwaite - 85

Elegushi beach was mostly deserted. These days, her peers preferred to get on a boat and hop off on a private beach; so it was no surprise to her that there wasn’t much going on here. Her eyes could just about make out that there was a group of people to the right of them, but they were mere specks. The lack of an audience boosted her confidence regarding the steps she would take now. On the drive, she had berated herself for her foolishness; but now that she was here, the water was calling to her.

‘Eniiyi, why did you bring me here?’ asked Ebun.

She didn’t respond. She headed to the water, discarding clothing, revealing the neon one-piece beneath. Her mother was running, trying to catch up with her. She grabbed Eniiyi’s arm, and Eniiyi looked up. She had never seen Ebun look so afraid.

‘What do you think you are doing?! You’re not planning on entering the water, are you?’

She wrenched her arm free.

‘I’m a competent swimmer.’

‘No. No. You can’t go in there.’

‘Why not?’ And she waited with her hands on her hips for her mother to confess. But Ebun had perfected the art of dodging the truth.

‘These waters are not safe. It is not like a swimming pool, Eniiyi. People get carried away all the time.’

‘Even now, you …’ She sighed. ‘I met Golden Boy. And his wife.’ Her mother sucked in her breath, further angering her.

‘I told you to break up with that boy!’

‘You didn’t tell me why!’

‘I shouldn’t have had to,’ Ebun said. Even now, her mother stood by her decision to be as reticent as humanly possible. Eniiyi felt like pulling out her hair.

‘I am not a child. I deserved the truth. Why can’t you ever tell the truth?’

‘I … It was never so simple. I didn’t want you to be burdened with it all. I didn’t want you to feel like you were not … you.’

Eniiyi burst out laughing. ‘Monife has tormented me all my life. I see her every time I close my eyes; and when my eyes are open, the people around me double-take, or mistake me for her, or assume I will do the things she did. You think your secrecy left me unburdened? Wonderful.’

‘I did what I could, Eniiyi.’

‘She slapped me. Zubby’s mum slapped me.’

‘She did what ?’ Her mother’s look was terrifying; her eyebrows were furrowed and she had a mean look in her eye. Given the chance she would return the slap tenfold; but she was missing the point. Eniiyi sighed.

‘I want to know the truth. I want to know what happened. Monife killed herself because of love?’

Her mother hesitated. ‘In a manner of speaking …’

‘What does that mean?’

Ebun didn’t answer, so Eniiyi began to walk backwards into the water. Her mother grabbed her arm again.

‘Eniiyi. This is not funny. I am sure you know this is where she died.’

‘But,’ and she began to list statements off on her fingers, ‘I am not trying to kill myself. And I am a strong swimmer. I took all those swimming lessons, remember?’

‘Eniiyi, stop this nonsense, please.’

‘Who do you think I am?’

‘What?’

‘Who do you think I am? Am I me? Or … am I Monife?’

Again Ebun failed to respond, and again Eniiyi walked deeper into the water.

‘Okay, okay! You are you, Eniiyi. Of course you’re you.’

‘So why are you so afraid?’ she asked. Her mother hesitated, then turned away, headed back towards their parked car.

She spent the next week in her room, with only the ancient bulk of Sango for company. She hadn’t planned to stay locked away, but even deciding what to wear gave her anxiety. Was she selecting this top, or those shoes, because she wanted to, or because Monife favoured this style of top or that colour shoe? It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did, and it meant she was unable to move forward.

How much autonomy did she even have over her body? It moved of its own accord when she sleepwalked, and she was not certain her heart was her own.

She passed her nights in a feverish state. She tried to drink to avoid dreaming of Monife, and she stumbled through the passing days. She ignored the knocks on her door, and her endlessly vibrating phone. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially not Zubby. She felt a sharp pain in her gut whenever she thought of him. She needed to figure out how they could move forward – if they could move forward – but for now, she would rather not think of him at all.

On the eighth day of her solitude, she took scissors to her hair and cut her glorious afro off. Then she proceeded to shave her head. She gathered her hair together and shoved it in a black bag, and as she did so, she caught sight of Zubby’s leather bracelet on her wrist.

She took it off and resolved to toss it away with the hair, but then she found she couldn’t. She looked around for a place to hide it out of sight, then she saw the iroko tree, stretching up from the bare earth in the garden. She paused; she had the idea to bury it. If she and Zubby got back together, then she could unearth it, their love renewed. If they didn’t, then … in a grave was where it belonged.

She went to the shed in the garden and took out a trowel, then came back to the tree. She started to dig. She felt as though she was in a trance. She kept digging until the shovel blade hit something that sang. She pulled it out. It was a biscuit tin – Royal Dansk.