“Wetin you be?” the man asked, looking at me.
We both looked at Yewa, trying to understand her.
She said, “Did Fofo Kpee give you any message for me . . . ?”
“No!” said the man, imitating Yewa’s manner of saying no, then giggled.
I managed a fake laugh.
“I’m sure he did,” Yewa insisted, and took a gulp of salt water.
“Oh, dis-nous, what message he give you?” the guard teased.
“That I’m Pascal’s assistant . . . Pascal, right? I’m not a small girl.”
“Yes, you’re my assistant,” I said.
“Wow, Mary, c’est vrai!” the man said. “Na true o. Fofo say you must assist Pascal for everyting. Like assistant class prefect, hén?”
“Yes, monsieur,” she said, happy with herself.
While they chatted, I opened my food and began to nibble on the yam without any desire to swallow. I tried to smile when they laughed, but memories of the sound of earth falling on Fofo flooded me, bringing tears to my eyes. But when I imagined Big Guy’s short laugh, I fought the tears and scooped hot beans into my mouth, knowing Yewa and the guard would think that was what was making my eyes teary.
“Could we at least go into the other room . . . please, please?” I asked suddenly.
“No wahala,” he said, and shrugged. “Gimme time.”
I looked away, to hide my excitement. Even Yewa seemed to feel the extra friendliness that morning. She picked up the flashlight and aimed it around the room playfully, drawing and painting intricate designs with the beam, shining it into all the crannies. It was her toy, and she behaved in that brief time like one who had the power to bathe the world in light or darkness. Sometimes she tried to use her hands to cover the face of the flashlight. Her fingers got red, but light still poured into the room. She aimed the flashlight at her belly and pushed it into her skin until there was very little light, just an eclipse on her stomach.
“Attention, attention, Madame Assistant Family Head, we need light o,” the guard said, reaching out for the flashlight. He was uncomfortable. “Na you be prisoner, not me!”
“But we can still see,” Yewa laughed, and pushed it harder into her stomach, trying to smother the light altogether without success. The man leaped forward and took the flashlight from her.
“When are the other children coming again?” I asked.
“Tomorrow nuit,” the man said. “We go clear de room tomorrow morning.”
“Please, could we just go into the other room and sit for a while?” I said.
“Ah . . .”
“You don’t need to open the door or windows . . . just let us step out of here.”
“Je comprend, you want take a break from dis prison. We can have one lesson dere.”
He led us into the parlor and cracked open a window. Though the room was dim, it was very bright for my eyes and felt colder because of the fresh air. My eyes went straight to the wardrobe, and I scanned the clothes until I saw the green coat. I was relieved that it was still there. I had no reason to think someone had tampered with it. My heart began to race, but I held on. I pretended to pay attention to Yewa, who was peering into the old soccer calendar and calling out the names of players. Without our bed, the room felt lopsided and wider.
I sat on the center table, which was closer to the wardrobe, while the guard and Yewa sat on Fofo’s bed. She was understandably uplifted by being in the parlor and hummed many a Christian chorus, something she had not done since we tried to escape. She smiled at us often and peered at everything as if she were seeing it for the first time.
The door to our room was ajar. I kept looking at the floor where they had put Fofo Kpee the night they ambushed us. It was the last place I had seen him.
“HAVE YOU EVER GONE to Gabon, monsieur?” I asked him.
“No,” he said.
“Hey, we will be in Gabon before you!” my sister said.
“No wahala, I go come later,” he said.
“Do you think it’s a good idea?” I said, looking down.
“Yes, Pascal,” he said. “Hén, Assistant Family Head?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Make we just dey call you AFH, why not?” the man said. “Yinko˙ dagbe!”
Yewa nodded, pompously.
“I miss our Nanfang,” I said. “AFH always went with Fofo Kpee for a ride.”
“Good machine,” the guard said. “Right now, de ting dey mechanic shop for servicing.”
I nodded as if I didn’t know that Big Guy had probably handed over the machine to the grave diggers by now.
“Do you think Big Guy would allow Fofo Kpee to own the Nanfang again?” I said, and looked down suddenly.
“Of course,” he said, “de zoke˙ke˙ na him property. . . . Why you dey look down?”
I jumped in my seat, feigning surprise.
“You dey OK? Wetin be dat?”
“I saw something.”
I got up and moved away from the table, backing toward the wardrobe. Yewa quickly pulled her feet onto the bed in fright, which was good for my ruse. She wanted to cling to the man, but he got up and asked her not to leave the bed.
“Someting? Like what?” the guard said. “Wetin you see?”
“Rats,” I said, and kept backing toward the wardrobe.
“Dat’s why you dey look down? You people dey lucky for dat prison where everyting dey sealed and de windows dey close. I dey see rat here every day o. Don’t worry, I go kill dem.”
I was within arm’s reach of the coat, and my hands extended behind me, as if I were preparing to fall into the wardrobe. My fingers were restless. The guard had taken off one of his shoes to use as a weapon and was searching under the bed and around the room with the flashlight. He pulled out Fofo Kpee’s carton of shoes and emptied it but saw nothing. I kept inching back toward the wardrobe. “Look at the other corner!” I said, prodding him. “I hope the rat hasn’t entered our room.”
As soon as I reached the coat, I grabbed the keys from the breast pocket and slid them into the pocket of my shorts. He was turning around at that point, but I pretended to fall, pulling many clothes down with me.
“I’m sorry, monsieur,” I said.
“Well, na just rat,” he laughed, calling off the hunt. “You be woman? You too fear! If de rat worry you tonight in your room, just call me, you hear?”
“Yes, monsieur,” we said.
Now my insides were rising and falling with joy. I began to fantasize about our escape. Our best bet was to run in the middle of the night, while he was asleep. I hadn’t thought about where we would run, but it didn’t bother me. My joy now was that freedom was within our reach. I just needed to manage my excitement until then. Again, like on the day Fofo tried to run away with us, I thought it was important for me not to tell Yewa anything until we were ready to leave. I didn’t want to risk it.
The guard again reviewed our lessons about being lost at sea and told us why we needed to drink salt water. We were comfortable around him.
WHEN WE WERE PUT back in the room, I was excited and jumpy and kept smiling in the dark. Against my fingers, the keys felt cold and warm at the same time. Each was half the length of my forefinger and felt light. Though I had no holes in my pocket, I was afraid of losing the keys in the dark. I kept putting my hand into my pocket to caress them and got to know all of their contours. Yewa chatted nonstop about the guard and the parlor, as if we had just returned from a picnic.