Page 37 of The Death of Vivek Oji

The next time Kavita came to visit, her face thin and tired, Juju told her what she wanted to know: that Vivek had come to her house that day, but he’d left in the afternoon and she thought he’d gone home. She told Kavita he’d eaten lunch there, but he hadn’t had much because he was full of pancakes.

“So you don’t know what happened to him?” Kavita asked, her eyes full of disappointment.

“I’m so sorry, Aunty. I really don’t. I thought he got home safe. I didn’t know what happened until—” Juju’s voice crackedand she paused to force it back into one piece. “Until you called my mother.”

“They put him in front of the door, you know.” Kavita looked so frail.

“I know, Aunty. I heard.” Maja was waiting just outside the parlor and Juju threw her a look, begging for rescue.

Her mother swooped in and put her hands on Kavita’s shoulders. “Come now,” she said. “Let’s get you some tea. Juju, you can go to your room.”

Juju leaned down to give Kavita a quick hug before she left, feeling how sharp her shoulder blades were, like a wishbone ready to snap. Juju wanted to whisper that she loved her, but it wasn’t the kind of thing any of them ever said out loud and she knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Still, seeing Kavita like that, almost going mad with trying to figure out what had happened to Vivek, she wondered if Vivek’s mother deserved a bit more of the truth—if she and the others were hurting her every time she asked them the wrong questions and they gave her their careful answers. The truth was so far away from any of her suspicions that she had no chance of interrogating them successfully; she didn’t know how much she didn’t know. She was Vivek’s mother, and she was wasting away before their eyes. They were as guilty as she suspected. They were making her suffer.

Juju called Elizabeth.

“I didn’t think I was going to hear from you again,” Elizabeth said when she picked up.

Juju ignored her. “We have to tell Aunty Kavita the truth,” she said. “It’s time.”

Nineteen

Osita

Juju called to say we were meeting at the sports club on Sunday. She and Elizabeth were already there when I arrived, sitting far enough apart to tell me they were still quarreling, even though their bodies were unconsciously angled toward each other. Juju was tapping her foot against the grass, her legs crossed. Elizabeth was barely moving. I could feel the anger layered quietly inside her as she sat in the plastic chair, staring into emptiness.

Ever since that day in the boys’ quarters, Elizabeth and I had tried not to be around each other too much. When she and Juju got involved, it got harder to avoid each other, since we were all connected by Vivek—who she forgave a lot faster than she forgave me, by the way. But no wahala. I stayed in Owerri and minded my business and everything was cool. Besides, the Elizabeth I’d been with was very different from who she wasnow, with her shaved head and thick eyeliner. Other girls would have worn big earrings and lipstick to compensate for cutting their hair, as if they were still in secondary school, but Elizabeth clearly didn’t care. Sometimes I wanted to tell her she looked like such a lesbian that it was a miracle Aunty Maja hadn’t realized she was knacking her daughter—but, again, I was minding my business.

Juju stood up and hugged me when I got to their table. She held me for a little too long and I saw Elizabeth’s eyes narrow. “Thank you for coming all that way,” she whispered. I had stayed in Owerri after Aunty Kavita collected me from Port Harcourt. I couldn’t go back to Vivek’s house, but the grief had stretched to mine anyway. My mother cried a lot, though I never knew if it was because he’d died or because she’d let him slip out of her hands. I never asked. My father walked around, age drawing down the skin of his face, barely even talking to my mother. I knew he wanted to be there for Uncle Chika and it was killing him that their wives had dug this gaping gutter between them.

“We are brothers,” he had said once, when I asked how he was, wonder and disbelief in his voice. “We are still brothers, yet he won’t talk to me.” I almost said I knew how it felt to lose a brother, but it was too complicated a feeling to put into words, so I kept it inside my chest.

“You said it was important,” I reminded Juju as we broke our embrace.

Juju sniffed and wiped her nose. “It is. We’re just waiting for the others.”

“Elizabeth,” I said in greeting, nodding at her.

“Osita.” She flicked her eyes at me and smiled tightly with her lips closed, her tone spiked. “Glad you could make it.”

By then, I figured Juju must have told her about my relationship with Vivek. I wasn’t surprised by her hostility, and I didn’t care enough to make noise about it. What was there to fight about? The boy was dead. I sat down and waited, glancing over at Juju. She looked exhausted. She’d taken her light brown hair out of its usual braids and tied it into a rough bun; she had bags under her eyes, no lip gloss, and yet she was the most beautiful I could remember seeing her, even looking like she was about to break. It was strange—the next thought I had was, Vivek would want me to take care of her. “How have you been?” I asked.

“She’s fine,” Elizabeth snapped. I almost snapped back at her, but then Somto and Olunne arrived and we were all greeting one another, rearranging chairs, passing around menus. Juju and Elizabeth had to move their chairs closer to make room for Somto and Olunne, overriding the little force field between them, and in that absence they fell back into their old comfort, their voices lacing together like one fabric. We put in our order with the waiter, then Olunne turned to Juju. “Okay,” she said. “What’s this about? Why did we bring Osita all the way from Owerri?”

Juju and Elizabeth looked at each other and Elizabeth gave her a small nod. “Show them,” she said.

Juju reached inside her bag and pulled out a colorful envelope, bright stock-photo faces smiling all over it. “I got this developed the other day from Vivek’s camera,” she said, handingthe envelope to Somto, who was sitting next to her. “I—I think we should give them to Aunty Kavita.”

Somto opened the envelope and inhaled a soft, quick breath. She looked at Juju, upset.

“You took pictures of him like this?”

Juju’s jaw tightened. “He wanted them. Was I supposed to tell him no?”

Somto closed the flap of the envelope without looking at the other photographs inside it. “So you mean the people at the photo place also saw these?”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Use your brain,” she said. “Of course they did. And so what?” Olunne reached across the table and took the envelope from her sister. “You’ve already seen them, Elizabeth?”

“I went with Juju to pick them up.”