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Sharon couldn't get herself to look up. She hugged her legs to her chest and began rocking back and forth.

Maximum yelled at her mum and left. He left her alone with her mother even though he knew her mother was in a bad mood.

"So, since you are leaving today," her mother said to Uncle Olu, "I can move my stuff into the guest room."

Don't move in. I don't want you to live with us.

Sharon rocked harder from side to side. Her lips trembled. She bit it and swallowed the lump in her throat.

Maximum will come back. He will.

"I suggest you do as Max said." Uncle Olu's voice was low and calm. "Moving in will be—"

"What are you insinuating?" Mother asked. She sounded calm too but Sharon knew she was angry.

"I am insinuating what you think I am." Uncle Olu rose to his feet. "Do as Max said. This is his house. Sharon is his wife."

"So you are saying I should allow myself to get estranged from my daughter all over again? You are telling me to never see Sharon again because her husband says so? Sharon is my daughter. My daughter. I have as much right to her as Max does."

Uncle Olu's laugh was low and harsh. "You are wrong, Dami. You do not have a right over Sharon simply because she is suffering from a mental condition. Do not make this ugly. Do as Max said."

"No!"

The word struck Sharon like a stone. She wanted to run away like Maximum did. But she couldn't do that. Maybe if she knew how to drive like him. Maybe she would drive very far away. Maybe find Aunty Maria.

Aunty Maria is dead.

Sharon choked back a cry. She wished Maximum was here. She was sorry she yelled at him because he didn't want to marry her again.

Maybe he didn't want her.

Maybe he would let her mother take her.

"Now, Dami," Maximum's mum said for the first time since he walked out, "why don't we let things settle a bit before you make talks of settling in?"

Sharon stared at her bright pink toenails and ignored the voices around her. Her toes blurred as tears filled her eyes.

Something like this has happened before. Angry voices—much louder than the present ones—the sound of a TV show playing in the background, and that smell of cigarette and bleach. Mum had always smelled of bleach then but he had smelled like cigarettes. Sometimes beer when he was yelling in her face and pointing. He liked to point a lot. One time he slapped her mother across the face and kicked her in the stomach when she fell. He had pointed in her face when she started crying too loudly.

"... Omo mi."

She blinked once and lifted her head. It was Uncle Olu.

"I want some of your artworks." He smiled and her sadness began to melt away. She didn't look in her mother's direction. "You remember I like collecting those? All the works at home were painted by Max. Now I will have yours hanging on the wall."

"H-how many do you want?" Her voice was croaky like a frog's.

"As much as you can spare. We can even print the digital art you showed me. Do you think we can do that?"

"Yes. Yes!" Sharon beamed. "We can do that. I have so many you will love." She bolted off the couch, snatched Uncle Olu's hand, and led him to the studio.

***

"I should go back now," Max said from his position next to Mark.

"Is that a question or a statement?" Mark asked, eyes fixed on the game they were playing. Mark has always been better at Mortal Kombat than he was, but today, Max was ready. Mark's den had a dark deco and heavy Star Wars theme, a lot different from Max's bright superhero-themed den. The man even had a life-size Darth Vader suit glaring at them from the left corner of the room.

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