Scars (Romola 2)

50: 5k

"Stop here." She pointed at her house and the Okada man turned off his engine.

Madness. It was madness to return to her mother's house that evening knowing that her monster of a stepfather might be there. But what did she care? If he was the one trying to suck money from her mother, he needed to be confronted too. She wasn't living in his house and she wasn't living by his rules.

She got off the bike and paid the man before walking towards the door. The falling sun tinted everything with an orange silhouette, including the pile of plastic materials at the side of the porch. Her hand shook as she reached for the door. What if her father was home?

It was a question she should have considered before stopping Vicky at the closest bus stop with a curt goodbye. She was calmer now and less willing to cut off someone's hand but she couldn't let this go. Not when there was a possibility that she'd sent money to someone who wanted to sell her pictures.

Her fist hit the door in five rapid knocks.

"Ta ni?" Her mother barked.

Trans: Who is it?

Her lips curved upwards. She couldn't imagine what she would do if her mother wasn't home. Confrontation via phone call hadn't got her very far the last time.

"It's me."

"Me who? Shey, you don't have name?"

"Romola."

She half expected that her mother would scream and demand that she crawled back to the hellish hole where she originated from.

The door creaked open and her mother peeked out, sizing her up. "Who invited you here?"

Romola frowned. "Can't I visit you again?"

Her mother's squinted at her but let the door open wider. ''You should have called."

Romola stared around at the small living room and fell to the worn brown couch. The old monochrome TV atop the three-legged table was missing. The small black stool was also missing. If not, she would have placed her legs on the table and crossed them. She didn't think her mother would take too kindly to that.

"Well, he isn't here." Romola said.

"I hope you are not coming to ask me for money that did not miss."

"See, mummy, don't start that one. I am not Lolade that you can borrow money from and lie to."

Her mother clapped and looked skywards. "Kini Gbogbo rubbish ye? Why will I beg money from you?"

Trans: What is all this rubbish?

"Didn't you ask me to send you money?"

"Who? Why? What? What drugs are you taking?"

"I am not taking any drugs, Maami. Two times this week, you've asked me to send you money."

"How?"

"You sent me a message. I've sent you over 25k."

Her mother stood by the door, squinting. "Shey, you know who you are talking to?"

"Yes. My mother."

"So," Her mother's voice rose to another pitch. "How can you talk to me like that?"

"See, it is not about the money. It is about who you asked me to send it to."

"Were you not the same person that called me this afternoon and asked me about money? I don't want your money."

"What you said and what I saw are two different things." Romola pulled her Nokia torchlight out of her pocket. Messages never lied. She put the phone in front of her mother's face. "Read this na."

Her mother took the phone out of her hand and scrolled through the messages.

"Is that not your number?" Romola fought a hiss.

"Yes but... no be me send this message."

"The messages came from your number."

"Check my phone." Her mother said.

Romola grabbed her mother's Lenovo smartphone off the table and turned it on. The phone displayed the keyboard and the password input box.

"What is it?"

"Hmm." Her mother's eyes bounced off the phone screen.

"Your password. What is it?"

"You know it."

Romola inputted her name and date of birth. Her chest compressed her ribs. She had expected that her mother would have changed the password the moment she heard Yetunde's accusations. Her mother had kept the same password all this time. The phone unlocked and she clicked on the message thread between her mother and herself. The only message in the past month was the one Lolade had sent asking for help. She refreshed the message but it remained static.

"It's not. It's not possible. I sent you money. The message..."

"Me too, I am seeing this. E shock me oh." Her mother raised the phone and turned it upside down, pulling at the rubber band that held the swollen battery and the phone together. It snapped back over the black battery case.

"When are you going to change this phone sef? You've been using it since I was in SS3."

Her mother's phone was in a worse state, with chipped edges and missing volume buttons but the touchscreen surface was new, clear and reflective.

"Ss2. I'm saving."

"But I sent you money. Didn't you get an alert?" Romola clicked on the thread of messages from her mother's bank. There was no corresponding credit alert.

"I dinnor see any alert. The only person who touch my phone in this last week is Jide."

Romola met her mother's eyes. "Is that so?"

"Yes, something was wrong with it. I could not make calls or anything. It kept saying turn off flight mode."

"Oh Lord." Romola slapped her forehead. She'd played such tricks on her mother before but that was before she started dancing for cash. "Please, don't tell me you paid him."

"What's wrong? I gave him 5k."

Romola shook her head. Jide would curse her for revealing his trick to their mother. But 5k in this economy for such a silly joke? He had to earn an honest living. "See this button here. You turn it on when you want to enter flight, aeroplane. Shey you get? When you come down. You turn it off. It's that simple."

"Ah. Ah. Ahhh." Her mother's eyes widened. She grabbed the phone and turned on the flight mode attempting to make a phone call. She turned it off. "Ah. See my life. See my life."

Someone ran up the small staircase outside the house. Her mother edged closer to the door. It swung open, hitting her as Jide ran in. Their mother shut the door and turned the key in the lock.

"Jide." She yelled.

He paused mid-way in the living room and faced their mother. Romola smiled at him, waving her fingers as their eyes met. He dove towards the door but his mother stood in his way.

"Where are you coming from?"

"Where are you going?" Her mother's voice was louder than hers.

He looked from Romola back to his mother and back again, his chest rising and falling with deep heavy breaths. "Outside."

"To do what?" Their mother took a step forward.

"Fresh air." He looked at Romola again with a pleading look.

She turned away. She would not plead for him.

"But you are coming from outside. What is chasing you?"

"Chasing? Maami, nothing can chase me"

"My 5k."

"Ma?" Jide raised a brow but showed no sign of comprehension.

If only she had a glass of cold Fanta to sip while this drama between mother and son played out. It wouldn't end well for him.