Bibi clapped her hands in tune to her chants in order to drown out Ajie’s voice. Ajie began to bang on the top of a drawer. They did not hear the front door rattle as Auntie Leba let herself in. She had returned home earlier than usual. They didn’t see her standing by the bedroom door until she said, “What’s going on here?”
They all froze, pillow in hand. Bibi had an unfinished shout in her throat; Paul and Barisua were still entangled on the bed, and as they let go of each other and stood up, Ajie could see their faces change: It was unspeakable joy a moment ago, but it went from self-consciousness to guilt and then shame.
“Welcome, Auntie,” Bibi said, and Auntie Leba mouthed a quiet “Thank you” and then gave Barisua a hard look, and it was clear that if not for the houseguests, she would have received a major scolding.
That night they all sat down and watched one of Auntie Leba’s favorite Mexican telenovelas. Since they arrived, the children had joined in watching the show, which aired three nights a week. Uncle Tam said it was trash but remained in front of the TV whenever the program started. Barisua sat on a stool by the door where she had a clear view of the screen.
“Stupid man!” Uncle Tam hissed at the TV. “She is deceiving you.”
Auntie Leba said, “No, there is a reason why she had to lie to him.”
Paul and Ajie still couldn’t tell some of the characters apart, and Barisua and Bibi (who caught on early) had to correct them. At some point, everyone was talking back to every scene that came on, sighing, hissing out loud, and lamenting the silliness of the story and of the characters and actors.
“What would you do if it were you?” Bibi asked Paul.
Ajie replied instead, that Leticia never should have forgiven Lothario and let him back in the first place. Auntie Leba had to hurry to the bathroom when the commercial break came on. By the time she came back, the program had returned and everyone volunteered to fill her in on the part she’d missed, including Uncle Tam, whose version of the plot was less accurate than Barisua’s and Bibi’s.
Ajie still wasn’t feeling himself. He had a light fever, his eyes felt dry, and his mouth tasted sour, but he didn’t want to bother Auntie Leba, so he kept it to himself. Besides, she might make a big fuss, like Ma did when any of the children got ill, and maybe make him swallow large bitter pills three at a time after every meal. This was much worse than feeling sick.
Before they went to bed that night, Uncle Tam announced that he would be taking them all out to the zoo the following day. “Everyone,” he emphasized, which meant Barisua would be going, too.
—
The storm that came down on Port Harcourt the next morning was unexpected. Ajie was sitting by the window feeling morose, his face up against the cold, damp air coming through the window. He didn’t even have to move much to see the roofs of all the bungalows below their building, the NITEL telephone mast, the glass high-rise that had a bank’s name on it, and beyond that, in his mind’s eye, was the Port Harcourt Zoo, where Uncle Tam and Auntie Leba had taken Paul and Bibi. That morning, he had felt a lot worse and just wanted to stay in bed, so he told Auntie Leba he was feeling tired, that he had a little headache. She began to fuss over him, asking how he was feeling, whether he was running a temperature. Ajie said no, he was just tired, so Auntie Leba told him he could rest at home, and Barisua had to stay back to keep an eye on him. Uncle Tam asked if there was anything he wanted and said they would stop by the shop to get him some goodies.
Now Barisua had turned on the radio, and there was a jingle from the Ministry of Health, a caution against littering that ended with “Keep Port Harcourt clean. The Garden City of Nigeria.”
A strong wind lifted and thrashed about the zinc roofs outside, swaying the TV antenna. Barisua stepped in from the balcony and shut the door behind her with a loud bang. Ajie took the book he was reading and headed for the bathroom.
“How are you feeling?” Barisua asked.
“Fine,” he said.
“If you are feeling worse, tell me. Uncle Tam gave the instruction that I should look after you,” Barisua said, and Ajie just replied “Okay” and went into the bathroom and shut the door.
He didn’t feel the need to go, so he sat on the covered toilet bowl with his shorts still on. He turned the page of the book he was reading but wasn’t taking in the words. He listened to the sound of the rain on the roof and the wind whipping about outside.
The rain stopped suddenly, and Barisua knocked on the door. “Are you there?”
“Yes.”
“What are you doing? Are you giving birth or what?”
Ajie put the book down and frowned at the door. He imagined her leaning close with her ear by the keyhole, then standing back, arms akimbo, waiting for an explanation when he stepped out.
“I’m just sitting down here,” he answered. “I’m just sitting here reading. I don’t know what’s coming out of me.”
“What?” Barisua laughed.
Ajie turned a page of the book.
“You are so funny, this boy,” Barisua said, still sounding amused. “You think I have time for you, it’s just because you are not well. When you finish, come let’s play Whot.”
They played three sets of the game and Barisua won all. Ajie shuffled the pack of cards slowly, as if about to deal out, and then hissed and said he was bored and that Whot was a silly game anyway. Could Barisua play Scrabble? He would trash her at that. Was she any good at table tennis? He was the champion now in their house. He trashed Paul most of the time. Bibi, too, except when she cheated, which was often.
“Until we play those other games…As for this one, I’ve beaten you three times.”
“I bet it’s the only thing you do well.”
“You have a sharp tongue! Small boy with bad mouth. If you weren’t sick, I would twist it for you until you began to cry.”
Ajie laughed. He wanted to tell her he was only joking, but he refrained. He stretched out on the bed and reached for a pillow to rest his head.
“Why do you like making trouble so much?” Barisua asked him.
He had no quick comebacks, and Barisua was waiting for an answer.
“Why do you like making trouble so much?” she asked again.
Most of the questions he had been asked all his life were questions that had previously been asked of other people: questions Paul had grappled with, questions Bibi had supplied answers to, and all he had to do was vary his siblings’ response; but right now he was treading water, struggling to stay afloat rather than be drawn in by Barisua’s big steady eyes that were on him. He felt that for the first time, another human being was looking at him, really looking at him.
“You always say what you are thinking. I like it.”
He pretended he hadn’t heard her; he allowed his head to sink deeper into the pillow, and they both fell silent for a while.
Before he touched her, he knew she was not asleep. She was lying there breathing softly, her face turned the other way. He placed his hand on her shoulder like he was about to shake her awake, then he just left his hand there. He let his fingers slide up toward her neck, and Barisua turned around and opened her eyes. Now was the moment for him to say, “I wanted to wake you up,” or “Is the paracetamol on the fridge?” But he didn’t say any of these things.
Barisua was silent, too. There was the sound of pounding from downstairs, mortar meeting pestle, and voices from the neighbor’s kitchen as someone made lunch. The sun was out now, and on the fence outside the window, a red-necked lizard eased himself out of a hole on the wall.
“What are you doing, this boy?” Barisua asked, lying on her side now, facing him fully. She looked bemused but completely unfazed by whatever he might turn up with.