Chapter 3: Wounds, Gifts, and Rivalry

Seles wake up the next day.

I always feel guilty towards am—if I no pick Theodore, Seles for no end up like this.

For my mind, I dey beg God for small mercy. Every time I see Seles wound, na guilt dey press my chest.

Lucas always dey do wicked experiments on am. I hear say, just to test merman muscle, he once cut Seles open alive, no give am anaesthetic, force am watch him own belle dey slice.

The thought alone fit make person lose appetite for one week.

I pour plenty healing agents into Seles’s tank. Thank God, his healing dey sharp. After being unconscious for twenty-four hours, he finally open him eyes.

I dey check monitor, dey count hours. When Seles eye blink, na relief fill me. I do small dance inside lab.

I try greet am, but he just give me cold look, then shrink back to the bare bottom of the tank, no show any anger or thanks.

E bone face pass soldier. He carry pride for body like crown.

No matter how I try talk to Seles that day, he no answer or even act like I dey there.

Na so some people be—wall full for their mind.

E no even reach feeding time, when I throw fresh, oily catfish from Mile 12 into the tank, he finally open him eyes. In a flash, he grab the fish with his tentacles and start to chop am like say he never see food before.

The way he dey eat—omo, na pure hunger. Water dey shake as he dey bite.

As I dey watch am chop like person wey dey starve, I just feel somehow.

I hear say, to test merman digestion, Lucas no dey give am real food.

This Lucas, God go judge am.

Spiny sea urchins, poisonous jellyfish, even nylon—Lucas go throw all those inside, just to see if mermen fit digest am.

He probably never taste real food for long.

So halfway through eating, he pause, then swim go one corner with the remaining half of the bloody fish, like say he dey hide am.

I just laugh, remembering my dog for house wey dey always bury bone for backyard.

The memory soft my heart. Hunger na real wahala for this life.

I knock on the glass. "Chop well, no worry. Food go dey always."

I use small smile try reassure am—maybe he go relax.

Seles just dey look me, confused, like say he no understand.

Then e hit me—he probably never sabi speak yet.

No be all mermen dey pick language quick. Some dey stubborn.

Theodore don already pick human language small and fit yarn with me for basic level.

But Lucas no fit teach Seles anything.

Lucas get hand for wickedness, but patience for teaching? E no dey.

I feel another wave of pity and guilt.

I gut another catfish, add small crayfish, the kain wey Mama dey use for ogbono soup, clean and cut am into small pieces, put them for bucket.

As I dey chop catfish, memories of home dey come—market days, Mama dey sing for kitchen.

Then, as usual, I carry the bucket climb ladder to the top of the tank.

Na steady work—if I fall, wahala go happen.

The top of the special bulletproof glass tank, wey even bomb no fit blast open, get carbon nano mesh. Even merman wey fit tear steel no fit break am.

I dey always feel small pride for this equipment—Nigeria with correct technology!

I sit for the tank edge, reach my hand through the gap to feed Theodore.

As breeze blow, my wrapper shift. Cold enter my body, but I still hold fish for hand.

Seles, wey dey ignore me before, suddenly stop and watch.

His eyes dey sharp now, tracking every move.

Theodore don already swim come as I climb up, nuzzle my hand before eating the fish from my palm.

If to say na dog, he for wag tail.

Him eating style different from Seles’s wildness—he dey gentle, bite by bite. Those sharp teeth wey fit tear shark never even scratch my skin.

E dey make sure say I no fear. The trust between us dey grow every day.

When he finish, I stroke Theodore’s soft golden hair.

Him hair soft pass baby goat. Na the only time I fit touch merman and no get scratch.

He swim round, happily nudge my hand like puppy, then push himself up and poke his head out of the water, his wet blue eyes dey look me.

The eyes clear like Lagos lagoon after rain. I fit see myself inside.

He call my name:

"Amaka."

"Amaka..."

The name sweet for my ear. The way he pronounce am, na like song from old Palmwine music.

Amaka—that na the first word Theodore learn.

E dey sweet me say na my name, no be fish or water.

I don teach am many words: chop, pain, sad, happy...

But the first one he pick up na my name.

Na the first word dem learn when love dey grow.

The big tank shimmer with dreamy blue. Theodore’s tail be like blue fire for under water.

E resemble fireworks under river. Sometimes I dey forget say this one fit bite person hand off.

The beauty of mermen, so close to humans yet so different, always remind me say dem no be our kind.

Yet, my heart dey drift go where him dey. Love na strong thing.

But that dreamlike charm dey pull me in, deeper and deeper.

For my mind, I dey lose guard. If my mama see me now, she go call pastor.

Theodore begin sing.

Na small, soft song—voice be like dew wey touch mango leaf. I fit feel my body float.

For one moment, I feel like sailor lost for midnight, drifting on small canoe for dark river.

Like say na old folktale—water spirit dey call me home.

For faraway, damp rock, the beautiful creature dey sing softly, dey try lure me come with voice as smooth as silk, dey invite me to sink into him world.

But underneath, that massive blue tail dey sway for dark water, ready to wrap me and pull me under.

Temptation na real thing. I dey play with fire.

I no fit help am, I reach out.

Na reflex. Even as voice for my mind dey warn me, my hand still go.

Theodore’s sharp nails carefully avoid my skin, gently hold my hand and plant one cool, respectful kiss—like river water—on the back.

E cold, but e sweet. My body dey shiver, but na good shiver.

I dey look am, lost.

Na only him dey my world for that moment.

My reflection dey shine for those blue eyes, love and need tangled inside.

The love dey real, e heavy pass stone for Ogun shrine.

Those soft, pink lips talk one word:

"Love."

Na one word, but e carry weight.

Theodore stammer, but talk am clear:

"Theodore, love, Amaka."

Na so my chest soft like yam for new soup.

I turn my head. For the far tank, Seles don stop to hide him fish.

Seles dey eye us like person wey catch im siblings chop last meat at family table.

The half-chopped, bright red catfish dey float for water, but he no send.

Jealousy dey body, but pride still dey chest.

Those burning, ruby eyes dey fix on me and Theodore.

If to say eye fit burn, glass for don melt.

But as Seles eye me through the water, I fit swear say this story never finish.