Scars (Romola 2)

36: Iya Tobi calls back

“Romola, my dear.” Iya Tobi’s voice was calm from the other side of the phone.

Romola stared outside the bus, watching other buses crawl by in the Lagos traffic.

The only time Iya Tobi spoke this calmly to her was when she wanted her to do something not covered under the title of ‘Personal Assistant.’ And for Iya Tobi, almost all unofficial duty was part of the job. 

“Hello ma.”

She wanted to ignore the call. But Iya Tobi hadn’t spoken to her in over two weeks. Not even via text messages. She wanted to hear what the woman would say.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Erm, how is work?”

Work? Was it the same work that the woman wanted her to refuse.

“Work is fine? Is there any problem?”

“Oh no. No problem at all, my sweetheart. I just wanted to check up on you.”

The engine of the bus purred to life and the bus hurtled. Romola swayed against the fat man beside her. He’d had fallen asleep some three bus stops behind and she wasn’t sure he was going to the final bus stop. But what did she know?

Iya Tobi continued, “I hope they are not stressing you.”

Stressing her? They treated her much better than what she had experienced at Iya Tobi’s store. She resumed at the same time with everyone else and closed early. Some days, she was allowed to get off work earlier and every time she bought food for Miss Oyama, she got free food.

Free Food!

Sometimes Ben or Miss Oyama dropped her at the main bus stop so she could take a bike to her house.
“No. I like it here.”

“Oh.”

A lung killing smell like rotten eggs wrapped in moulding food wafted through the air and slapped Romola’s face. Who had decided that a tightly packed bus, right in the middle of a traffic jam, was the best place to release gas?

“Who mess na?” The girl in front of her with blue-length braids twisted her nose.

*Who farted?*

“Thunder fire that person ynash.” The bus conductor added.

*May thunder strike the person’s buttocks.*

Romola’s eyes narrowed at the conductor who hung by the door, his trouser sagging to reveal dull red boxers. One end of his multi-coloured shirt tucked in and the other flying in the wind whenever the bus managed to catch the wind. She wasn’t buying his act of curses. Who knew if he was the guilty party?

“Romola na,” Iya Tobi’s whining brought her back to the conversation. She pushed the small phone closer to her ear. “When will you come back?”

“Come where?”

“To work? You promised you were going to come every weekend. You didn’t come.”

If Iya Tobi were here, she would eye the woman. She settled for a sigh instead.

“You told me to leave.”

“What are you talking about? I was just angry, you know. People say things they don’t mean whey they are angry.”

Romola wished that were the cause with her mother. “Well, I’m not in charge of your mouth and I can’t read your mind.”

Iya Tobi laughed. A small nervous laughter. “I know, Omo mi. See, just be coming to work during the week. Evening time.”

“Why? Have you forgotten your text messages?”

The bus picked up again, the roar of the engine drowning her voice before it sputtered to life and picked up a steady rhythm.

“Let’s not talk about the past.” The older woman’s voice was firm as she spoke. “So when should I be expecting you? This evening?”

“Not today. I work during the weekdays.”

“Okay, tomorrow then.”

“I told you, only during the weekends and I’m not sure about Sundays. After church, I need to go home and prepare for work.”

“Romola, please.”

Was that a hint of desperation she caught in the woman’s voice? Who knew Iya Tobi could beg? A small smile played on Romola’s lips and she laid her back against the iron and leather fixture backrest of the Danfo.

The bus conductor would probably think she was crazy but who was not crazy in this country where the leaders claimed that thousands were dying from Corona but had no issue with forcing their citizens into the he public to register for their NIN or risk losing access to their Sim-cards.

“There is nothing I can do that Mr. Ola can’t do.” Except clean up after Tobi. “And Rosemary can do the rest.”

“No ah, Romola, I have fired them. That Rosemary is too dull and you know Mr. Ola, he comes to work when he likes. I’ve put him on probation. Who will run the store?”

“You can. Bisi should.”

“Don’t do this to me, Romola. After I fed you. Don’t be the person who bites the hand that fed them.”

Mr. Akin and Iya Tobi had fed her that first month but she was sure she had earned more than the cost of her upkeep for them over the years. “I’m not sure I can—”

“Honey, it’s Romola. Please. Help me beg her na.” Romola heard the woman say.

There was some grumbling before she Mr. Akin’s voice on the line.
“Hello, Romola.”

“Good evening, sir.” Romola sat up. There was just something about how the man spoke that commanded respect in her.

“It’s been a long time. I don’t like the way you just left like that. Without even saying good bye.”

“I’m sorry sir. It’s just that—”

“Even if you are mad at my wife. Are we fighting?”

“No. No Sir.”

“Good. I don’t know what Iya Tobi did but please forgive her. You know how she behaves. She’s sorry.”

The fat man beside her leaned towards her. His weight compressed her hand into her stomach. She nudged his sides and his eyes flew open.

“It’s not that sir. I’m interning somewhere and she said she just fired two people. I can’t do two people’s job and then do my own,” She muttered under her breath. “Especially not on 45k salary.”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing Sir. I will just be busy that’s all.”

“That can be fixed.” It was Iya Tobi’s voice again but a bit further away.  “I will get someone to assist you. Just come on the weekend.”

“I didn’t say-”

“Thank you, Romola.” Mr. Akin ended the call.

Romola twitched her lips as she dropped the phone on her laps. No, she didn’t agree to go back. And even if she did, she had to be clear about what she would do and what she wouldn’t. If it didn’t concern the store, it wasn’t her problem and she had to discuss salary payment with Iya Tobi. She would either be paid in full or ,if she were to be paid for the weekend work only, her daily wages had to rise.

But for now, she was content with letting one problem swirl in her head. How would she get her old passport from a house where neither her step-father nor mother wanted her in?