To Love And Be Loved

Chapter 2

Cass's attention was divided during dinner. Zara, the cook, had worked throughout the afternoon, and the whole house oozed with the ting of spices and the sound of oil frying. Cass popped into the kitchen now and then to offer words of encouragement and snag the occasional chunk of meat. Cass couldn't cook. Her last attempt at cooking had ended up with drools of wet spaghetti pushing out of the pot and sliding down to the floor in milky trails. She knew this inability of hers was like a wall closing in. Her mother, Alexandra, had hinted on asking Zara to school her in the arts of cooking, stating that her lack of interest in making food coupled with her general clumsiness in the kitchen was very un-Nigerian.

Dinner was usually something light and simple, so Cass was suspicious when Zara lugged home several bags from the market. Her suspicion was confirmed when her father, Michael, walked in after three months away from home. He had received a warm welcome from everyone except Alexandra. Cass had watched as her mother stiffened in her father's arms. She had watched as her mother walked away from the hug, without a word, her face holding no expression. And it had felt like the friction between her parents was almost physical, something she could touch and direct all the bewilderment she had felt at that moment at.

Zara's hard work was spread on the dining table—jollof rice littered with an assortment of condiments, a silver cooler filled with chicken dipped in stew and the thick, white flesh of some fish, and Zobo standing purple and chilled in sweaty bottles. The atmosphere at the dining table was not in the same wavelength as the food. There was a strange sight at the table, and the atmosphere was charged, tense, like the air was holding its breath. Michael whose job as an automobile engineer in the employ of a European car manufacturer meant he was rarely at home, sat at the head of the table. He had barely touched his food and seemed to be saying something to Alexandra, but she did not seem to be listening. She was very focused on her food, the clinks of her cutlery on the plate was like a bell tolling.

Cass was the only one noticing what was happening at the other end of the table. Next to her, Gabriel, her twin, was both eating and typing on his phone, one-handed, with impossible speed. Hannah, her little sister, as was her habit, had turned her plate into sections of food and colour. She had scooped the jollof rice on her plate into a mound in the middle, and around it she had layered the green peas, carrot, cabbages and plantain into thin lines. Cass couldn't understand the rationale behind it, but Hannah was a stickler for order and compartmentalization. She never ate unless she had done something to the way the food was arranged.

For once, Cass felt relieved; she wasn't going to berate Hannah for letting her food grow cold. Hannah was so engrossed in what she was doing that she seemed oblivious to her surroundings. Cass did not want her looking up and at their parents and being an audience to whatever was going on between them.

Gabriel chewed noisily and chuckled; Hannah hummed under her breath and further divided the mound of jollof rice on her plate. Cass stilled as Michael placed a hand on Alexandra's arm. He was speaking, but Cass couldn't hear what he was saying, her gaze was fixed on that hand. Alexandra did not react to the hand on her bare arm. She merely sloshed the rest of the wine in her glass and sipped.

Michael grimaced. His face was leathery, his uneven hairline even more pronounced than usual. His hand remained on Alexandra's arm for a few more moments, and then he withdrew it, almost awkwardly, and grasped a bottle of water. "This work takes me all around," he said.

"That is not the point," said Alexandra.

"Alex, if you would just listen—"

"That's what I've been doing all this while, listening," said Alexandra, her voice arctic cold. Cass felt the food she was eating turn to lead in her stomach. Her parents' marriage was not exactly stellar; they argued now and then, but they were all private incidences, things Cass would have been oblivious about if she was not paying particular attention to them. But this— this was something different.

"You know, the other day at Hanna's school," Alexandra was saying, "they were having this Father's Day thing and were told to invite their dads to class. Hanna kept on asking about you and I had to keep making excuses. That episode went and she didn't ask again. I can't imagine what she went through in her class as the girl whose dad didn't show up." She poured more wine into her glass. "Kids can be cruel, you know."