What It Means When a Man Falls from the Sky(10)

The hour grew late and the mad rush of departing guests began to peter out. Even an usher or two had left. I was about to make my way to the parking lot again—maybe Chinyere had returned—when someone tapped my shoulder. It was Chi-Chi’s antagonist. She held up one finger to hold off words while she completed a message on her BlackBerry, then looked up.

“You have been standing here all night. Where is Chi-Chi? Don’t tell me that girl left you.”

I didn’t want to hand this woman any more ammunition, but I was also tired, and the long night of rude stares had eaten up a lot of my guilt.

“My driver is coming around, I will take you to your auntie’s house.”

I didn’t dare turn down the offer at this late hour. Besides, it would serve Chinyere right to return and not find me. I followed the woman to the edge of the red carpet, where a gleaming black Range Rover pulled up. A young man stepped out and opened the back door. The woman settled in, then pulled out a bottle of water and sucked at it, the plastic crackling.

She gave the driver directions, which I tried to memorize just in case. Then she watched me till I started to fidget. The wine must not have passed out of my system because I couldn’t help myself.

“What?” I said rudely. My mother would have slapped my mouth.

“You look just like him. I didn’t see it before, but you do,” she said, opening a small tin of Vaseline and moistened her lips. “We were supposed to be married, you know.”

My father, a man I had never really thought about, at least not in this way. A man with a past.

“You could easily have been my child. I don’t have any girls.”

She looked me up and down, lingering at my shoes.

“Your dress is nice.”

“My mother picked it.”

I hoped the response would hurt her. Instead she laughed.

“You are very clever. You get that from him, too.”

She began to ask me questions typical of adults when they’re trying to be polite. How is school? Are you enjoying your trip? How long are you here for? She followed up with talk of her sons—one my age, two younger. She didn’t mention Chinyere. I relaxed, surprised to find myself liking her, this woman who had been my enemy short minutes ago.

It was not long before we pulled up to my aunt’s gate. As we waited for the maiguard, she took my chin in her hand and studied my face.

“You are everything I would have expected his child to be.”

I wavered between being flattered and being aware that this styled, polished girl was not really me.

“Thank you.”

Then the maiguard opened the gate, and we drove through.

Auntie Ugo was on the front steps, dressed in a wrapper and head scarf. No doubt she thought it must be Chinyere and me returning for the night.

I expected their encounter to be hostile and it was, but in a different way than I anticipated. My aunt was deferential, calling the woman “ma,” while the woman called her Ugo and answered her chattiness with as few words as possible. It was clear she just wanted to leave.

She soon did and Auntie Ugo changed back to her irritated self the moment the gates closed.

“Where is Chinyere?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does this girl have your phone?”

I nodded.

I expected her to start shouting but she remained calm, putting her cell phone to her ear as she walked into the house.

“Chinyere, my dear, how are you? Are you enjoying yourself?” Her sugary tone should have set off Chinyere’s warning bells but I could hear my cousin chattering on the other end.

“And Cousin Ada, is she well?”

More chattering.

“Let me talk to her.”

I opened my mouth to say something but my aunt held up her finger and gave me a look of such fury that I shut up.

“Oh, she’s in the bathroom? Well, she won’t be long I’m sure, I can wait on the line.”

More chattering as Chinyere dug a hole deep enough to be buried in.

“She’s talking with someone else now? That’s a funny something, because Grace Ogige just dropped her off at the house.”

The chattering stopped. I imagine Chinyere’s heart stopped, too. Auntie put her fury into words now. The intensity of her shouting drove me from the room and traveled up the stairs with me, past the old photos of Chinyere. I stopped in front of the one of us together, arms slung around each other’s waists. At thirteen, I’d been taller than her at fifteen, and I remembered her mother teasing her about it.

Through the door to my cousin’s room I could see the boy rubbing the sleep from his eyes. I sat on the bed and pulled him into my lap, cradling his head under my chin. He fiddled with the neckline of my dress, then settled. I stroked his head, trying to will the night away. A glance at the clock showed it was past midnight. I wouldn’t have blamed Chinyere if she stayed away till morning.

Almost two hours later, I heard the gate creak open and shifted the boy off me and went to the window. Chinyere came through the gate at a modest, almost penitent pace, as though she’d already begun to beg forgiveness. Auntie Ugo ran up to the car and pulled on the driver’s-side door, but Chinyere had locked it, so she started banging on the window, shouting the whole time. I couldn’t make out all of the words, but she punctuated each one with a slap to the glass, an unsatisfying substitute for Chinyere’s face. My cousin sat in the driver’s seat, staring straight ahead. This continued for a good ten minutes. Suddenly Auntie Ugo settled for pointing her finger at the house. I pulled back from the window for a moment in case they looked up and saw me, not that it mattered. Everyone in the neighborhood must have been awake and listening.