Chapter 2: Catfish Wahala and WhatsApp Clues

For company, apart from Ifedike’s assistant, nobody sabi say we dey date. Sometimes when I dey waka for office corridor, people go dey hail me as "madam workaholic," but dem no know say na because I dey hide one big love wey fit shake the whole building if e burst. Even receptionists dey always say my wahala too much, but I just smile inside.

As work close reach, Assistant Auwalu send me WhatsApp message:

[Shuyi, Oga Ifedike say make you come family house for Ikoyi chop dinner this night.]

I reply:

[OK.]

Na short reply, but for my mind, I dey reason say, wetin be this one again? Even the way Auwalu dey send message, e dey do like say na small thing, but I know say anything wey concern Ifedike family na serious package.

I wait for outside office for almost one hour, harmattan cold dey bite me, but Ifedike no show. Na that harmattan, the kind cold wey dey cut person bone—every breath dey draw for chest, my lips don crack, nose dey run like small pikin. I rub my arms, look phone screen dey shine for my hand. My breath dey float for air as smoke, like say I dey blow cigarette.

I call am:

“You don reach?”

Na woman pick, her voice soft like early morning breeze:

“Hello, Ifedike dey drive now. E go call you back later.”

I shock small. Before I fit talk, the call cut with that robotic voice.

My heart just skip, e be like say spirit pass. Na who dey pick Ifedike phone by this time? E pain me, but I just bone face, no wan make people for bus stop dey notice my wahala.

I just carry myself enter keke go Ifedike family compound. When I reach, Ifedike’s mama and papa welcome me with big smile.

Na Ikoyi, so security dey everywhere. I greet gate man, he salute me, "Madam, welcome o!" Even before I knock finish, Mama Ifedike dey already come out, her wrapper tie well. Papa Ifedike dey for veranda with im newspaper and bottle of malt.

No be my first time to see them. The Ifedike family na big people—im papa na businessman, im mama na university lecturer. Book people dem be.

Their parlour big, AC dey blow, pictures of children full the wall, and the smell of stew and fried plantain dey everywhere. Sometimes, when I dey for their house, I dey feel small small compared to the kind book dem don read, but Mama and Papa dey always try make me feel at home.

When Ifedike first tell me say make I come meet im parents, I worry sotey sleep no gree me. I think say e go be like those Nollywood film wey dem go dash you money make you leave their pikin.

I remember that first night, I pack new lace wear, even borrow gele from neighbour. My mind dey do racing. I dey expect wahala—dem go say, "Take this money, leave our son." But instead, Mama Ifedike just laugh, serve me ofe nsala, ask me about my family for Enugu. The thing shock me.

But e no be like that. Im mama gentle, she no even look down on my background or my parents wey be ordinary people.

Mama Ifedike hold my hand ask:

“Where Ifedike? Why e no follow you come?”

Her hands soft, she rub my knuckles as she talk, like say she dey pray for me with her touch. That small gesture dey always calm me.

Before I fit answer, na so e waka enter.

One woman dey follow am. She smile soft, her voice still gentle:

“Mama, Papa.”

You know the kind quiet confidence wey some people get? Na so this woman waka. Even the beads for her hand dey jingle softly. I fit smell small perfume for air, like vanilla and coconut. She greet like person wey don dey come there steady.

I see as Mama Ifedike eye waka between the two of them. Her face squeeze small, but she quickly smile again:

“You don come.”

Mama Ifedike voice choke small, like person wey dey hold question inside. But as sharp woman wey sabi society, she arrange her face, no let drama show.

The woman remove her ankara shawl, and Ifedike just help am hang am for rack like say na normal thing.

Dem get that easy way wey close family dey move—no formality, no stress. Even the small laughter wey she give, e get weight. I just dey look dem, dey wonder if na me or she really dey belong here.

The way dem do am, you go know say dem don dey do am for long. Even after three years with Ifedike, we no get that kind understanding.

She pass am the shawl, e arrange am for rack, their hand touch small, she no even flinch. Me and Ifedike? Any small thing I go dey shift body, dey fear say person go catch us.

When Ifedike collect the shawl, the woman pause small.

Ifedike look her, ask:

“Wetin happen?”

She just smile, shake her head:

“Nothing.”

But her eyes talk plenty. I see small shadow for her face as she talk, like person wey dey remember old wound but no wan talk.

Mama Ifedike drag me near, hesitate small, then introduce:

“Shuyi, this one na Ifedike elder brother wife. Her name na Halima.”

As she talk am, Ifedike face change, e no too happy with the way dem talk am.

“You sabi say Ifedike elder brother don die.”

The air for parlour just freeze small. For our side, we dey respect late person well well, and for some families, to mention late brother wife anyhow dey get as e be.

Later, as I dey wash hand for bathroom, na only me and Ifedike dey there. I ask am:

“Why you no come pick me tonight?”

I dey rub hand for soap, dey look am from mirror. The way im face dey tight, I sabi say e no go give me straight answer, but my spirit no go let me rest.

Ifedike bend head, dey wash im long fingers slow slow.

Im voice low:

“People too plenty for office.”

“You wan make our colleagues see us together?”

E look me, im face no show anything.

Sometimes, I dey reason say me and Ifedike fit win award for acting. How many people fit date for three years and nobody for office go suspect?

Na who dey act pass? Na me or am?

This Lagos, everybody sabi dey watch, but we play our part—me, the loyal secretary; him, the no-nonsense boss. Even if we waka enter same elevator, nobody go suspect anything. E be like say two masquerades dey dance, but only the drummers know the beat.

For dinner, Mama Ifedike bring catfish pepper soup put for Halima front.

“Chop, Halima.”

Halima look uncomfortable, her spoon hang for air.

Ifedike just shift the plate from her side.

“You dey react to catfish. Chop another thing.”

Mama Ifedike smile, dey apologize:

“Ah, Halima dey react to catfish? I no know o.”

The way she talk am, you go see say she dey try please everybody. In Igbo house, to serve visitor food wey dem no chop fit cause wahala, so Mama Ifedike dey beg with all her heart. She even dey call househelp make dem bring another soup.

After that, the dinner just quiet.

Everybody dey move their spoon gentle. Only the sound of glass and plate dey ring for table. Me, I just dey push rice around plate, heart dey do kpim kpim for chest.