Another highly telling time, Kunle decided to take both Shade and Namdi out to the crowded local market. I stayed peacefully home to rest. But when they finally returned, the front door flew open and I immediately heard Shade loudly complaining in a highly irritated, vicious tone.
“Your precious Namdi clumsily dropped an entire, expensive bag of sweets right at the checkout counter! I actually had to pay for the ruined mess. What an incredibly clumsy, stupid boy,” she spat angrily.
Kunle immediately frowned deeply and quickly turned to aggressively scold his quiet son in front of her. “Namdi, you’re supposed to be a big boy now. You absolutely have to be much more careful when we take you out.”
I clearly saw little Namdi submissively lower his small head in shame. His little hands were nervously intertwined together, and his tear-filled eyes desperately sought mine, exactly as if silently begging for a rescue. I quickly approached the tense group and placed a highly protective, warm hand firmly on his small shoulder.
“Please don’t worry about it, my sweet boy. It was just some silly sweets, it doesn’t matter,” I soothed him.
But deep inside my mind, I absolutely couldn’t stop angrily wondering why Shade got so aggressively, disproportionately angry so easily with a small, grieving child. I constantly wondered why she simply couldn’t ever manage to be as gentle and kind to him as Bisi had always naturally been.
One sunny afternoon, when I walked to pick up Namdi from his elementary school, his kind teacher quickly took me aside into the hallway. She spoke to me in a very low, highly concerned voice. “Mrs. Okonkwo, I need to tell you that lately, little Namdi has been actively talking much less in class. He seems incredibly withdrawn and deeply sad. Is there something difficult happening at home?”
I froze completely in panic, but I desperately tried to smoothly downplay the teacher’s heavy concern. “I’m quite sure it’s just the stress of the recent changes at home, Mrs. Adeyemi. Please, don’t worry yourself about it too much.”
But later, while we were slowly walking on the way home, Namdi suddenly tugged very hard on my blouse. He looked up at me and said in a terribly trembling, tearful voice, “Grandma, I really don’t want to go back home with Miss Shade ever again.”
I abruptly stopped walking right on the sidewalk and knelt straight down onto the hard concrete. I looked deeply into his wide, clear eyes, my old heart feeling as if it were being brutally squeezed in a vice. “Why would you say something like that, my sweet love? Miss Shade really loves you very much,” I lied to him.
But the exact second I said the false words out loud, I intuitively knew I was horribly, dangerously wrong. Namdi aggressively shook his small head. He had a look of incredibly firm, adult determination blazing in his tearful gaze.
“No, Grandma. She really doesn’t love me at all.”
I gently stroked his soft hair, desperately trying to verbally calm his fears. But deep inside my own soul, I absolutely couldn’t deny the terrifying reality that the little boy was telling the absolute, unfiltered truth. Chioma, who was walking right nearby holding his backpack, had clearly heard every single devastating word.
She slowly turned her face away from us in complete, heavy silence. But I clearly saw exactly how her slender shoulders moved slightly up and down, looking exactly as if she were desperately holding back a heavy, heartbroken sigh.
There had been all those loose, confusing pieces. All those little, terrifying red flag signs. I had clearly seen every single one of them, but I had cowardly, actively chosen to willfully ignore them for the sake of fake peace.
And so, inevitably, the grand day of my son’s second wedding finally arrived.
That specific afternoon, the bright, golden sun of Abuja streamed beautifully through the massive glass windows. It bathed the entire, luxurious event hall in a blindingly radiant, warm light. It looked exactly as if the heavens themselves were actively wanting to beautifully celebrate my son’s incredibly happy day.
I was currently sitting quietly at table number eight, placed right next to my precious grandson, Namdi, and Chioma, my wonderful adopted daughter. Namdi was sitting quietly, completely absorbed in playing with his shiny red toy car. He was happily whispering a very soft, continuous “vroom vroom” sound under his breath.
I looked closely at him, and my old heart instantly filled completely with an overwhelming, protective tenderness. Chioma was looking beautiful in a very simple, elegant beige dress. She was sitting comfortably on the other side of him. She kept lovingly leaning over from time to time to softly whisper something sweet directly into Namdi’s ear. She wore a smile that was exactly as warm and sweet as the bright morning sun.
“Please eat another little piece of this fresh bread, my sweet boy,” she urged him gently, carefully breaking off a small, soft piece and handing it to him.
I smiled warmly at the beautiful, domestic sight. Feeling a deep, profound sense of comforting peace wash over my tired heart. Although our fractured family had agonizingly gone through so much terrible, crushing pain, the constant, loving presence of Chioma and Namdi was always the vital fire that kept my soul warm.
Kunle, my handsome son, was impeccably dressed in an incredibly elegant, navy blue traditional robe. He was confidently walking around the massive room, moving smoothly between the decorated tables, cheerfully toasting with our many relatives. His handsome face was practically overflowing with pure, unadulterated happiness.
His massive, radiant smile seemed to actively want to permanently erase all the dark, depressing years that had heavily followed Bisi’s tragic death. I proudly looked at him, feeling a massive, swirling mix of intense maternal pride and deep, lingering sadness.
I so desperately wanted to truly believe that he had finally, truly found a new, lasting happiness. I wanted to believe that Shade, the currently dazzling bride spinning around in her incredibly expensive beaded wedding dress, would actually give him a warm, safe home.
But every single time my cautious gaze accidentally met Shade’s across the crowded room, I felt sick. She was constantly laughing incredibly loudly, performing for the flashing cameras, and seemingly never letting go of her crystal wine glass. Every time I saw her, I felt a sharp, tiny thorn aggressively digging deep into my fragile heart. Her bright smile was far too perfect and rehearsed. It looked exactly like a very carefully crafted, plastic mask designed to hide a monster.