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  “Where do we start? Are the others okay with Safari?”

  “Haba now Efe, you know this una Hilton club no dey happen at all on weeknights?”

  “I know but still, I have to show some loyalty, abi?” she asked.

  “OK, I’ll go and get them in, but I don’t know how long they’ll agree to stay.”

  “No problem, I’ll meet you guys there.”

  It was Thursday, and Ovie was right, the Safari would probably be dead. Efe had been tasked with bumping up traffic and sales at the club, but she had yet to make much headway. They had planned a bar crawl, and she would be taking notes as they went.

  Ovie popped her gum in a loud snap and walked out, an exaggerated sway to her hips. Efe smiled and tidied up her desk. It amazed her how little they’d changed. Each remained the same, though they had all grown up and moved on with their lives. Ovie was no different from her university self, still a brash loudmouth and down to earth.

  As she joined the others, Efe wondered what Ovie thought about her current persona. Nneka often said Efe had changed more than any of them; going from slow and distracted, to focused and out-going. Efe agreed, and they both knew what made her that way.

  As she joined the others downstairs, she forced herself not to dwell on bygones. It could be that Ofure did not recognize her, or Kevwe had moved on and so beating herself up would be useless. In the basement club, it took less than an hour for them to tire of the irregular beats and overworked waiters.

  Four more people joined the party before they all piled into three available cars and drove to the Sheraton Dazzle nightclub to continue the celebrations. The naked skin on display made Efe feel out of place in her work clothes but she ignored the smell of sweat, smoke and alcohol. Since she wasn’t driving, she extended a hand for some champagne.

  Soon after midnight, they left Dazzle for Krystal Lounge, where Efe had called ahead to add their names to the guest list. They made a quick entrance, moving to the clusters of small tables at the back as the drinks flowed. The place had a shiny décor with plenty of oversize couches holding well dressed people.

  On a usual day, Efe would have been more reserved, but as the mix-tape on rotation pounded in her head, she joined others in ordering glasses of top shelf liquor and wine. The meeting with Ofure still plagued her, and she wanted to avert another nightmare.

  When she felt a headache coming, Efe shrugged it off and lost herself in people-watching. One girl, wearing a tube dress that started from her nipples and barely covered her fat bum, plastered herself to Danjuma. Efe gulped down the rest of her champagne and snickered to herself; maybe the bootilicious girl could give some of her junk in the trunk to Ovie. She snickered some more and took another glass from the passing waiter. ‘Roll it’ by P-Square came on and the curvy girl jumped up with joy.

  As she began to dance, rolling what her mama gave her; Danjuma stood up and bumped against her backside. Efe sniffed at the sight; she already didn’t like P-Square because they reminded her of Kevwe and his twin - and now this? She would go and ask the DJ to change the music.

  “Who’s the DJ?” she shouted over to Bernard. He told her it was Jimmy Jatt and Efe felt even more displeased. Earlier in the week, after a show at the hotel with Julius Agwu, DJ Jimmy Jatt had turned down her offer to play at the Hilton Safari.

  Dbanj came on with ‘Fall in Love’, and Bernard and Ovie walked to a corner of the lounge and began dancing. Watching them, Efe forgot her annoyance as she was thrown into past nights. She saw herself and Kevwe right there under the disco lights. She recalled the times in Benin when they’d all gone out together, with Nneka, Ovie and the guys.

  Remembering her earlier decision, Efe got up and walked to an open space, it was time she let go and enjoyed herself. The darkness swirled in her head, and she closed her eyes as her body swayed to the beat of the music. She reveled in the freedom of the dance as the rhythm swept her away.

  She stopped to have another drink, and when the music changed, she danced with several other people before Ovie and Bernard dragged her home to bed.

  **

  Lagos, Nigeria. November 20, 2009.

  Kevwe opened bleary eyes and glared at the pattern made by the morning sunlight on the opposite wall before shifting his gaze to the clock. It was seven already. After yesterday’s call with his brother, he’d plunged into work, not stopping until the entire factory workers left. Back home, he went straight to his office-cum-studio, a design project of his a way to forget the past.

  He’d only gone to sleep at three in the morning, and was now suffering for it. He had known this day would come, and thought he was ready, but after all the years, anger and pain still swamped him. He covered his face with clenched fists, and then swinging out of bed, he padded to his den.

  “Why didn’t you recognize her when you met?” he asked once the phone clicked.

  “Kevwe, are you OK?” Ofure asked before replying, “Blame my temper. I’d gone there to solve a problem, and was pissed off by the ineptitude of the staff right before I saw her. She also looks a little different from the pictures you showed me when you dated her all those years ago, but that’s only to be expected. It’s been what, ten years…”

  “To the day I first saw her; ten years, four months, two weeks…” he stopped when he realized what he was doing. Hopefully Ofure would not call him out on it. But yes, he’d been counting. This day had come when Efe was back in the country, and he wasn’t ready.

  “What next? Do you want to come up here and meet her? I could…”

  “Why would I do that?” Kevwe sprang up from his seat in a sharp burst of anger. This was a girl who abandoned him when he needed her most. Who dumped him like a hot potato at the time he lay dying. And Ofure thought he would go running to her at the first scent. What made him angrier was that he’d considered it himself yesterday.

  “OK, don’t get too worked up,” Ofure replied. “It was just an idea. I know what you went through and how long it took you to get over her, even now…”

  “Ofure, that’s enough.” Kevwe warned. His brother’s thoughts said more than his words and images of days of painful physical therapy and nights of tears filled his head. He struggled, refusing to follow Ofure down memory lane. “Allow the past to remain where it is.”

  To stop the pain, Kevwe tried to think of his business, of things that were more crucial to him. Not a previous relationship that hit the rocks due to a young girl’s impatience and high expectations.

  “That is surely not what you still think?” Ofure asked.

  Kevwe cursed. “Don’t read my mind! I didn’t give permission…”

  Ofure interrupted him, “You read mine often enough and I never complain, so shut up, OK? And also you left yourself open, and that made it easier. What does that tell you? You’re more vulnerable now than you’ve been for a long while.”

  You’re not as over her as you had hoped. Kevwe didn’t know if that was him or Ofure. He shook his head to dislodge the unwelcome thoughts.

  “You’re sure you don’t want to see her?”

  “No, I don’t. Let her remain there in Abuja, I’ll be here.” Kevwe was firm. If she wanted to find him, she knew where to look. Ofure being in the capital made it even easier. She could find out from his twin where he was.

  “You think she’ll come looking for you, but what if she’s married?”

  “Ofure, stop it; I’m serious. Get out of my head!”

  “Chill man, you know I can’t help it unless you shut it.” Ofure sighed, “Truth is, I’m trying, but you’re the one pushing these thoughts into my mind. Maybe we’ll talk later when you’re more composed. What do you say?”

  Kevwe was torn. A part of him wanted to confess everything to his twin, but the other part wanted to lick his wounds in private. Sometimes being a twin could be hard, especially when you could share everything if you wanted.

  “I’ll call you,” he finally replied, pressing the ‘end call’ button. He wouldn’t run back to
Efe, he wouldn’t. He searched for a number; talking with his grieving mother would certainly help.

  **

  3

  Abuja, November 20, 2009. 9am

  She hated walking this road so late, but she couldn’t avoid it after reading at the library. Empty tables lined the roadside, and behind one of them, a stone-bound ring of embers, dying remnants of the suya mallam’s fire. Kerosene lamps and candles flickered in the darkness, filling the air with smoke.

  Efe coughed, praying she would not meet secret cult members who were reputed to use this route on their way from their haunts. Someone appeared ahead and she slowed, mouth drawn tight, and fists clutching her chest. A little yelp escaped her when the person turned to face her.

  She heaved a sigh of relief at the flashing white teeth and walked towards him with a smile of recognition.

  “Kevwe…”

  She stopped in a moment, clenched hands wiping her eyes when, instead of moving closer to him, he drifted further and further away. Sounds of revelry disturbed the silence of the night and Efe walked faster, heart pounding and sweat dripping from her nose.

  More shadows melted out of the side of the road, coming towards her. The figures chanted gutturally, and when they raised their hands, something metal glinted in the light from the fire. Menace filled the air thicker than smoke and Efe ran forward, screaming Kevwe’s name.

  He couldn’t leave her here, he was supposed to love and protect her forever…

  “Kevwe no…” Efe groaned, as her head tossed from side to side. “Don’t leave me...”

  The alarm on the bedside table buzzed, and she jerked awake. It took another moment to lift eyelids swollen from tears. She was under the blankets, but the cold tremors from the nightmare still racked her. Efe dragged herself out of bed, feeling like her head was stuffed with hot rocks, but knowing it wasn’t a hangover. This was the third time in as many days she’d had a Kevwe nightmare.

  They’d never quite left her, but she was now worried over how often they recurred. Had she made a mistake in returning to Nigeria? Was this a message from her subconscious? It took a lot of time and effort to push Kevwe and that part of her life to the recesses of her mind, and she didn’t want to go back. Her thoughts spun round and round, tying knots in her stomach as she dragged herself into the bathroom for a shower.

  Efe recalled she had also sunk into despair after Kevwe, her former fiancé, broke up with her. In the weeks before their breakup seven years ago, she’d begged to stay in Nigeria. Because of him, she’d resisted travelling with her brand new American visa as her parents wanted. After his rejection, she wanted to leave immediately, but her body failed her.

  Reduced to a shadow of herself by headaches, tears, and nightmares, she had been unable to travel. It was a beginning of a traumatic time, not just for her but the entire family; they were forced to move house ahead of schedule to help her prepare to leave the country. But she still arrived a month late and missed the opening date of her new college.

  Efe returned to the bedroom after several minutes under the refreshing shower jets. Her mood had soured even further as she remembered the year spent stacking shelves in FreshCo and waiting for summer school to start. To cheer up, she slotted in her iPod into its dock and selected Asa, a recent Nigerian female favorite, before sliding open the closet and rifling through it. Her clothes brought fresh memories of how she was nicknamed the Black Widow in school. Back then, she only wore black and sober outfits. At least now she could recall those dark days and not cringe anymore.

  She walked to the kitchen and fixed herself some instant coffee. The headache would settle in a few minutes. She cradled her head with care while waiting for the coffee to cool, then gulped it down and shuffled back to the bedroom. After dressing, she left for work in her Honda Accord, a discreet song playing on the radio.

  The sun was high up in the sky, and the dashboard showed it was thirty eight degrees. Efe pulled the black-framed sunglasses on her hair down over her eyes and put on the air conditioner. Dressed in another dark outfit from her collection, she already felt the heat, and decided to take the longer, shadier way.

  Her employers, Hilton International Corporation, subsidized her cost of living, or Abuja would’ve taken a toll on her purse, and made it impossible to live there. The city was certainly not cheap, and she often paid international prices for basic items. In fact, she found that she spent more money now than she did in West Palm Beach.

  She recalled discussing Abuja with Kevwe in the past as she drove past Gana Street to IBB Way, the wide boulevards separated by greenery sweeping past as she cruised all the way to the British Council before turning into Aguiyi Ironsi Street. He’d hoped to visit again with her, and now she wondered if he lived here; his brother obviously did.

  In her air-conditioned office, she started on the most complex task she had waiting for her, hoping the work would take her mind off her man problems. The hotel had just completed a recruitment drive, and she had to make sure the records for hundreds of new employees were compliant with the documentation required by the city council of Abuja. Her assistant was to have prepared it, but for the third day in a row, he was nowhere to be found.

  Then there were the quarterly catering orders, they had to send those off to their beverage contractors for their supplies to be delivered by month-end. Ofure’s visit had disturbed her yesterday, or the orders would’ve been done. With intense attention, the day passed without thoughts of Kevwe, Ofure or Stanley and she made progress into her work. If her flow continued like this, she looked forward to finishing the job before the deadline tomorrow.

  When she sat back and checked the time, it was before six. Stretching in satisfaction, Efe spun her chair to face the window. Her fifth floor office overlooked Shehu Shagari Way, affording her an excellent view of the well cut lawns and flower patterns in Millennium Park. A broad stream ran through its centre, and the remainder of the native woodland clung to the edges. The ornamental fountain was too far away, but she gazed along the jogging track as far as she could, and allowed her thoughts to wander.

  **

  Abuja. November 20, 2009. 7pm.

  The ringing cell phone dragged Efe into the present.

  “Hello,” she croaked, picking the call.

  After her thoughts had strayed from work earlier, she’d packed up her things and come home. She was now in bed, not having bothered about dinner.

  “Efe!” Nneka’s shout rang in her ears and Efe winced.

  “The day we’ve all been waiting for has arrived,” Nneka said. “Your godchild has just cut her elusive first tooth. Can you come as planned? The other godparents are here already, and Anuli wants you.”

  “Anuli, the baby?” Efe asked, a smile blooming.

  “Of course,” Nneka insisted. “We’re waiting.”

  Nneka was bossier now than ten years ago, especially since her marriage to Dozie. Dozie had wanted to marry Nneka while he was abroad, even though he’d never set eyes on her then. Nneka had rejected the match-making until Dozie returned to Nigeria some years later, still interested in her.

  After two years of leading him on a merry chase, she finally agreed to his proposal, to everyone’s surprise. Their first child had arrived in May, a month after Efe moved back and Nneka named her Anuli, saying her joy was complete with her most beloved friend around her again.

  Efe got up from the bed and dressed in a narrow Adire boubou she’d bought at the hotel the month she resumed. She was Anuli’s godmother, after all. She picked the gift she’d already bought for the occasion, put off all the lights and picked up her car keys.

  In West Palm Beach, she’d taken good roads for granted as well as travel times. Since her return, she’d had to adjust. Though Abuja had wide, well-maintained three-lane roads, sometimes this wasn’t enough to guarantee smooth or dependable trips.

  At the Asokoro Junction, the traffic lights were out, thanks to the unreliable power supply. Efe moved her car into an open slot and cursed whe
n a commercial green and white minibus cut before her. Hawkers made brisk business weaving in and out between the stationary cars. As motorists jostled for right-of-way with their tooting horns, she sent a text message to Nneka.

  The flash of a headlamp cut into the deepening twilight, and she debated what to tell Nneka about what happened yesterday.A knock on her wound-up window brought her back to a display of newspapers, wristwatches, snacks, and paintings. Efe shook her head at the peddler and sighed in relief when traffic police took over and cars began moving, enabling her to made it to Nneka’s place in just over thirty minutes.

  The other godparents were still there when she arrived and Dozie, the proud dad, was busy taking pictures. He was dark-skinned and a little shorter than Nneka. Typical of the Nigerian man who’d spent some time in the United States, he wore what Efe called their uniform.

  He was dressed in a long sleeved, collared, button down dress shirt with some embroidery on the back. Designer jeans and a pair of pointy-toe shoes completed the look. He worked for a reputable oil company on Minister’s Hill while Nneka stayed home with the baby.

  Efe looked around for mother and baby, smiling when they came through the kitchen door. Anuli was big for her age and wore a cute navy blue romper. Nneka had tied her hair in pink ribbons, and the baby beamed and laughed at everything. When Efe came to carry her, the baby cooed and spread her chubby arms wide in welcome.

  “Did you believe me when I said she recognized you?” Nneka asked, handing over the baby. “You’re her favorite auntie.” The pregnancy weight she was yet to lose suited her tall frame. Efe admired the easy smile on Nneka’s face. Like Efe, she was also dressed in a boubou. Hers was wide and in a bright orange and green Ankara print.

  Efe patted Anuli’s back in gentle strokes. She snuggled her face into the baby’s warm neck and inhaled the scent of milk and powder while Anuli gurgled. “Are you sure she sees well yet?”