The Death of Vivek Oji(19)

“Let me talk to Chika about it,” Kavita answered. It was an excuse she used when she wanted to end a discussion, pretending that she couldn’t make a decision without her husband’s input, and Mary, like everyone else, stopped bothering her as soon as she said it. They said good-bye, got off the phone, and Kavita went into the parlor, where Chika was reading a newspaper. “Your sister-in-law is getting on my nerves,” she said, sitting in an armchair and crossing her legs, pushing her braid over her shoulder, the black of her hair now silvered with age. “She keeps trying to get me to bring Vivek to her church.”

Chika didn’t look up from his paper. “Mary means well,” he said, his gold-rimmed glasses balancing on his nose.

“She said Vivek’s not safe, that he looks—” She paused. “That people might try to hurt him.” Her voice warped hesitant, unwilling to say out loud the possibility of worse.

Her husband sighed and dropped the newspaper into his lap before turning his head to her. “Well,” he said, “is he?”

“Chika!”

“It’s a fair question, Kavita. Look at how he presents himself.”

“My God, it’s just hair! It doesn’t mean anything.”

Chika gave her a gentle but knowing look. “Is it me you’re trying to convince, or yourself?”

They stared at each other for a few seconds, then Kavita dropped her eyes. “What if it’s something we did, Chika? What if we made a mistake somewhere and that’s why he ended up like this?”

Chika reached out a hand and caressed her knee through the silk of her trousers. “Don’t blame yourself,” he said. “The boy has his own life, and we can’t control every aspect of it.”

Kavita nodded, pulling herself together. “You’re right. Besides, he’s getting better. He’s even going out.” She looked up at him. “Soon he’ll be able to go back to school and everything will be normal again. You’ll see.”

Chika looked at his wife, at the hope thrumming out of her eyes, and said nothing. Kavita ignored whatever he wasn’t saying. She knew he wanted the same thing for Vivek, so it didn’t matter. He would see. Everything would be fine.



* * *



—

Vivek kept losing weight, so Kavita took him to a doctor, who checked his blood pressure and pulse, listened to his lungs, and asked him about his meals, frowning at his responses.

She put aside her notes and looked at Vivek, the collar of her white coat stark against her neck. “You know you’re not eating enough,” she scolded.

“I don’t have an appetite,” he replied, shrugging. “Everything tastes like nothing.”

“You have to try,” Kavita said. “Beta, I can see your ribs.”

Vivek pulled his shirt back on and it hung from his shoulders. “I’ll try, Amma. I promise.”

“Are you smoking?” asked the doctor.

“Cigar or igbo?” Vivek quipped, and Kavita smacked his arm.

“Stop that nonsense.”

The doctor just looked tired, or perhaps bored. “Either one,” she said.

“No,” said Vivek. He answered the remaining questions as Kavita gazed at his face, the smudged darkness around his eyes. They drew some blood for tests and the doctor told him again to eat some more before sending them away.

“Let me take him to my church,” Mary insisted, when she called that evening to ask how the visit went. “It can’t hurt, Kavita. They will try and remove any evil thing that has attached to him. You believe in prayer, I know you do. Your own church has not done anything for the boy. Let us try, biko.”

Kavita was hesitant but she was, after all, his mother. She couldn’t fold her hands and not try everything. So, that weekend, she sent him to Owerri. She’d wanted to wait and send him when Osita would be there but Mary advised against it. “That boy doesn’t go to church,” she said. “He’ll just convince Vivek against it. We don’t need another thing blocking his deliverance.” So they didn’t tell Osita that his cousin was visiting, and he wasn’t there the weekend Mary took Vivek to her church.

Late Sunday evening, Kavita was in the parlor when Vivek returned from Owerri, slamming the mosquito-net door open as he came in. “Beta?” she called as he walked past the parlor. “How was it?”

Vivek stopped to look at her, and Kavita flinched. She had never seen him so angry, fury just packed into his burning eyes.

“I’m never going to Owerri again,” he said, his voice tight. “You people can go if you like, but I won’t follow you. You hear?”

“What happened?” Kavita swallowed down the anxiety. Nothing could have happened. Mary would have called her if something had happened. “Was it the church service?”

Vivek stared at his mother. “Have you ever been to her church before?”

“Yes, of course, beta.” She twisted her fingers together. “It goes on for a long time, but it seemed all right. What happened?”

“No, I mean have you ever gone when they’re doing a deliverance?”

Kavita shook her head and her son leaned forward slightly, pinning her to the armchair with his unforgiving gaze. “But you sent me anyway.”

She was starting to get alarmed. “Vivek, what happened?”