Page 36 of The Death of Vivek Oji

Maja stood up as well. “My dear, of course I want to help you find out what happened. We all do. All I’m saying is that Juju can’t help you right now. She’s suffering—”

“I don’t care about her suffering!” Kavita hissed, and Maja recoiled. “It isnothingcompared to my own. That girl will answer my questions and then she can go and suffer in peace!” She took a step forward, but Maja stepped in front of her with a hard, set face.

“I said no, Kavita. Absolutely not.” They glared at each other. “I know you’re going through unimaginable pain right now,” Maja said, “but it is my job to protect my child and I can’t let you speak with her. Not when you’re like this.”

Kavita felt as if Maja had hit her. “Are you saying I didn’t protect my child?” she whispered, her voice splintering.

Maja’s face softened.

“Oh, Kavita, of course I’m not saying that.”

“It sounds like you are! So my child is dead because I didn’t protect him, ehn?”

Maja sighed, her eyes sympathetic. “Go home, Kavita. Go home, rest and grieve. You’re not thinking correctly.” She tried to put a hand on her friend’s arm, but Kavita wrenched it away. She snatched up her handbag, then pushed past Maja and out the door, slamming it behind her.

Inside her bedroom, Juju sat curled up by the door, her ear pressed to the wood as she listened to their quarrel. She was wearing a cotton nightgown that she hadn’t changed in a day or two. Juju nervously pumped her mouth full of saliva then swallowed, words knocking about in her head. She was a little surprised to hear her mother defend her so vehemently; she’d even wondered if she would use Vivek’s grieving mother as a tool to break her silence. But to be left protected, inside the bubble ofsilence she had created when she found out he was dead—that was a mercy Juju welcomed. She didn’t know why she’d stopped talking, to be honest. It had just felt easier. People had kept asking her how she was, how she was holding up, if she was okay, but when they realized she wasn’t going to answer, they eventually stopped.

Vivek’s death had even managed to bring her father home and it felt a little bit like they were a family again. If the other woman was still a factor, she was sure she would have heard her parents arguing about it by now. Somto and Olunne had stopped by, but Juju simply left the sitting room when they came, and locked herself in her bedroom. It was harder to be silent around them; she had to run away to keep the bubble intact, so she could be safe inside it. Elizabeth hadn’t come by the house, but she had called several times, and Maja could only respond that Juju wasn’t speaking yet. Elizabeth had even sent her a letter. Juju read it sitting on her bedroom floor, leaning against the bed frame:

Dear Juju,

I don’t know what to say about all of this. Your mumsy says that you’re still not talking to anybody and after what happened last time we spoke in person, you probably don’t want to talk to me either. I tried to greet you at the burial and you just ignored me. I can’t lie and say that I’m not still angry with you, but it’s somehow for me to continueto be angry in this situation. I want to help you but I’m angry with you but Vivek is dead.

Everything is just a mess. I don’t even know why I’m writing this. Maybe you can write back if you still don’t want to talk? I can’t keep calling your house like this just to make sure you’re okay. If I’m being honest, I’m still angry with him, too. How can I be angry at someone who’s dead? And not just dead, but they killed him. I feel like a horrible person. It should have been enough to forgive both of you, that whole thing people like to say about realizing life is short and cherishing your loved ones, but it doesn’t feel that way to me. I never even got to talk to him about it.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. I just know I’m still angry.

Sorry.

xx

Elizabeth

Juju folded the letter and put it inside one of her books. She hadn’t seen Elizabeth since about a week before Vivek was killed, when she’d told her the truth about the morning after Osita came to her house looking for his cousin. She had been tired of hiding it from Elizabeth. Every time her girlfriend whisperedI love you, Juju had wanted to say it back, but that morning was blocking her throat and the words wouldn’t comeout. She knew Elizabeth was hurt and confused by her silence; she’d said so more than once.

“I know you love me,” she’d said. “Why won’t you say it out loud? Are you afraid it will make this too real, or what? Are you ashamed of us?”

It frustrated Juju as well. She knew she loved Elizabeth and she wanted to tell everyone, even their parents. The possessiveness she’d felt over Vivek had faded, and in its wake she could recognize what real love was, that it was what shimmered in the air between her and Elizabeth. Juju wanted to hold her hand anywhere—in front of their friends and family, when they were all at each other’s houses. She wanted to be able to cuddle on the sofa and not have people think there was something abnormal about it. It wasn’t fair—there were times when people assumed she and Vivek were together, and no one seemed to have a problem with that. If anything, it made Vivek seem a little more “normal,” it made people more comfortable with him. But she and Elizabeth were a different story.

And then Elizabeth was there, thinking that Juju agreed with these people on some level—that they had something to be ashamed of. It wasn’t true, but Juju didn’t know how to tell Elizabeth about what really worried her: What if she left? What would she do if she lost Elizabeth? Juju loved her more than she’d loved any boy, and Elizabeth said she felt the same way. She told Juju about Osita, and then about a senior girl at her school who’d introduced her to options that went beyond useless boys. The senior girl had taught her things, things she then taught Juju—like how being with a girl was so muchbetter than being with a boy, because boys were selfish and they didn’t know how to make you feel good. Girls knew how to touch each other properly.

Still, both Juju and Elizabeth were scared that one of them would wake up someday and decide she was tired of being with a girl. This was why Juju didn’t want to tell Elizabeth about the kiss with Vivek. She’d always sworn he was just her best friend, there was nothing going on, she was sure Vivek liked boys. Elizabeth had believed her. Why shouldn’t she? It wasn’t like she knew she was dating a liar—not yet.

When Juju finally told her about the kiss, Elizabeth looked stunned. Juju watched as shock and pain cycled through her face, quickly replaced by disbelief. “Wait, is this not the same Vivek you kept telling me there was nothing going on with?” Elizabeth asked, then laughed in an empty way. “Wow, I’ve really been an idiot. You’ve been here making a fool of me this whole time. I hail you!”

“It’s not like that,” Juju tried to say. “Let me explain—”

“It’s not like what? You missed penis so much that you had to make a move on Vivek, of all people? He’s not even a man, for God’s sake.”

“Elizabeth!”

“I don’t even blame him. We all know his head is somewhere else. But you—how long have you been lying to me about this? What else have you two done?” Elizabeth held up a hand and looked at Juju with disgust. “In fact, don’t tell me. I can’t even tolerate your face right now.”

She walked away and Juju ran after her, trying to grab herarm, but Elizabeth shook her off. Juju called her name, her voice breaking, not caring who heard or saw, but Elizabeth never looked back.

—

A week later, Maja came into Juju’s room to tell her that Vivek was gone, that he had “passed away”—useless words meant to make death feel better. Juju stared back at her as the news of his death ground to powder the pieces Elizabeth had left her heart in, until there was nothing remaining in her chest to come up through her throat. That was why she stopped talking, and Kavita’s visit didn’t change that. Nothing changed that until one morning when Juju dreamt of Vivek and he kissed her again in the dream, and a river flowed from his tongue down her throat. Juju woke up with a dry mouth, but when Maja said good morning, Juju said it back to her automatically and watched the joy flood her mother’s face. Charles was there—he was always there now—and when Juju greeted him, she was surprised to see her father look both old and relieved.