Cursed Daughters by Oyinkan Braithwaite - 87

The next day, the Falodun house was full to the brim with well-wishers. She hadn’t seen her mother or grandmother make a single call, and yet mourner after mourner showed up at the door. She had known family members would come and pay their respects, but she hadn’t thought of the teachers, the parents, the students who had had their lives touched by Grandma West. And she was moved when Funsho, Kunle and Tobias showed up to express their condolences. There were many mourners, and they left her with little room to hide away and grieve herself. Whilst her grand-aunt’s body remained in an air-conditioned room, Eniiyi ran from one end of the house to the other, trying to serve food and keep drinks topped up, whilst tolerating questions and comments about her shaved head. Ordinarily she would have hated this kind of intrusion, but this time she considered it all a welcome distraction.

They divided the tasks up between them. Ebun greeted the guests at the door. As the youngest, Eniiyi was responsible for making sure everyone was comfortable. Ashley was given the task of holding on to money given by the guests or anything else that they might show up with.

Some came empty-handed, offering long, complicated prayers, reminding them that they should not mourn because Grandma West had lived a long life. Others arrived with trays of food so the remaining inhabitants did not have to worry about cooking, and some came with baskets of fruit. One such guest was the famed Mama G, who was carrying a foiled tray as well as two enormous pendulous breasts. She was across the room greeting Ebun, who did not look pleased that she had shown up but was too polite to turn the old woman away. Eniiyi wondered who had invited her. She certainly seemed familiar with their home; she was loudly noting the changes that had taken place over the years.

Eniiyi was pleased to see Osagie come into the kitchen with two trays of jollof rice and chicken. He handed them over to her.

‘This is a lot of food.’

‘Thank God jollof keeps,’ he replied.

‘Right.’

‘I’m sorry for your loss, Eniiyi. I know how close you were to your grand-aunt.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Do you need any help?’ He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves up, revealing chocolate forearms, marbled with white. ‘I am at your service.’

Eniiyi couldn’t tear her eyes away from his arms. She was going to ask him about them when Mama G walked in. She heard the old woman gasp and braced herself.

‘Blood of Jesus! Monife?’

‘No, ma.’

The woman stepped right up to Eniiyi, looking up at her face. Eniiyi tried not to shrink away.

‘Ah … okay. Na you be the little baby. Eniiyi!’ The woman grabbed her with a surprisingly strong hand. ‘Do you remember me? I am Mama G. I am Bunmi’s friend.’

‘I’m sorry for your loss, ma,’ said Eniiyi, before turning back to Osagie – but Mama G was not done.

‘Nawa o! You even sound like her. Not the Britico accent o, but that deep man voice she carry. And see your eyes!’

‘Mmm.’ She really didn’t need this. She wished the strange woman would stop.

‘Ah! I almost say na ghost I dey look at. Even with this your bald head, you are her carbon copy! Be careful o. People who return can still make same error.’

Eniiyi felt distressed. She heard herself stammering. ‘No! No. I … have this birthmark …’ She twisted and pointed out the lighter, mottled patch of skin across the back of her neck. ‘My aunt didn’t have this.’

Mama G dismissed the mark with a wave of her hand. ‘Make sure you don’t die o! If you need spiritual—’

‘Madam, that’s enough!’ Osagie cut in. His tone brooked no argument. Eniiyi had never heard him sound so … pissed. ‘If you cannot respect this family and this function, at least respect yourself.’

‘Nawa o! Wetin I do?’ Mama G hissed, then eyed up Eniiyi one more time before turning on her heel and leaving the kitchen.

‘Thank you,’ Eniiyi mumbled. She hoped he wouldn’t ask any questions about the bizarre encounter. She returned to plating food.

‘Wait,’ he said, and she swivelled back. ‘You … you have vitiligo?’

‘What?’ He raised his hand and touched the back of his neck, and she mimicked the movement – cool fingers upon her now naked neck. ‘Oh! My birthmark? I …’

‘That’s vitiligo,’ he stated. And she thought about it, the look of it, the pale beige against her mahogany skin. How had she never … She had taken the fact that it was just a birthmark for granted.

‘That’s pretty rare. I don’t know anyone besides myself that has …’ And then he stopped talking. Oblivious, Ebun was in the corridor, speaking to an elderly guest who had demanded her attention. He looked at Ebun, back at Eniiyi and then at Ebun again. He wasn’t saying a word, but Eniiyi could guess what he was thinking: vitiligo could be genetic. Perhaps she had been wrong thinking this man had only just come into her mother’s life.

‘Excuse me,’ he said, before brushing past Aunt Ashley carrying in another plate of food.

Aunt Ashley watched him disappear and then turned to Eniiyi, who felt as though her world was shifting beneath her feet. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I don’t really know,’ she said.