Manifest

Twenty-eight

Eddie welcomed the scanty beard and the shadow above his lip. He wasn't about to handle a clipper, so he stole a comb from his father's cupboard and groomed himself. Refusing to walk naked through a house full of strangers, he wore his father's underwear and took another polo and a pair of shorts. He checked the time and it had been thirty minutes since he spoke to Dara.

The hallway was empty but clean and tidy. The dustbin and broom were gone, and everything was set straight and put in place. Even though the sitting room looked emptier without the pictures and the two broken chairs, it was also tidy. So was the dining room.

In the kitchen, there was a lot of activity. Otobong had returned from the market as was evidenced by the simmering pots on the gas cooker and the number of bags on the kitchen island. There were several cartons of drinks at the door, from which, two young men appeared to be sharing drinks to people lined up outside the kitchen backdoor.

"What's going on?"

Everyone paused as greetings started flying his way. Otobong dropped his own drink on the counter and slid off, rushing towards Eddie with his ATM card and change.

"I withdrew more money than I needed, Boss. I'm sorry," he handed Eddie the card and a few one-thousand-naira notes.

Hunh, Eddie thought, taking in the scene.

"Did you buy all this from my card?"

"Yes, boss. You said we should cook for everyone."

Eddie could not remember saying, everyone. He might not have phrased it correctly, but how did they jump all the way from "buy yourself something to eat" to "feed the village"?

Otobong seemed to have read something on Eddie's face because he stepped back, unsure.

"I'm sorry. I didn't understand. I thought you said-" he cut himself up, looking back at his sister for assistance.

"It's my fault," Itoro said. "I'm the one who gave him such an extensive list of things to buy. I thought you were offering. I just-"

"It's fine. It's alright. I'm not angry," maybe, a little irritated. "I thought you were going to make a quick meal."

He'd been looking forward to the meal.

"I was. I did," Itoro said, hopping. "I didn't want you to wait till the whole thing was ready, so I made you this. It's small. It's nothing. But it can hold you till dinner. I'm going to pack a lot of the soup and some rice into the fridge for you so you can eat something after we've gone."

She handed him a tray with a covered plate of food and a bottle of cold water.

"I have some leftovers if this isn't enough."

===

He returned to his father's room because it was farthest from the kitchen where all the noise was. When he shut the windows and turned on the air conditioning, every voice in the compound was drowned out. He placed the tray on the bed and opened the plate to reveal tomato, yam porridge with boiled eggs. Two eggs. And if he wasn't mistaken, there were bits and crumbs of fried egg littered all over the yam with pieces of green pepper and ham and shreds of nton. Just how much egg did Itoro think Eddie liked to eat?

Eddie picked his fork and took a piece of yam. It was seasoned and just as spicy as he liked it. If Itoro cooked for his father, then it made sense that Eddie would love her cooking because his taste and his father's were eerily similar.

He gobbled it all down, licking the last morsels of the plate as he contemplated going back to the kitchen to ask for more.

With nothing but gratitude towards Itoro, he took the bottle of water in one gulp and leaned back against the head of the bed with a loud belch. Eddie couldn't move. Itoro had crippled him with food. His eyes were about to close when a blurry figure appeared in front of him.