THE TRIUMPHANT ENTRY

4-2-17 
The messiah was coming, but not riding on a colt.

I had just concluded frying my locusts and was about to start drinking garri before SistOghene screamed my name from inside the room. I had already set my mat right beside mama’s grave under the tree and as you can see, my Saturday was going great before she interrupted me. 

“Cut me some branches from the orange tree” she said, as I entered the room, and I wondered why she didn’t just scream the message along with my name while I was right under the very tree. 
She asked me to cut a branch or two each for myself, Elohor and herself, to welcome him and to spread on the road. My own elder sister told me that if I didn’t join in the carnival, I should forget about going back to school this semester. 

Let me spare you the gory details of mama’s death. All I can say is that the heap of red sand in the compound is practically empty, as we could only bury her favorite lappa with a picture of her in it. There is no body. The orange tree that rests partly over it is what we remember her by. 
Ever since that day nine years ago, SistOghene has been taking care of me and papa. She continued mama’s palm oil business so she could afford to pay my fees at Ogharaki Model college, not minding dropping out of there herself. At this point I wished that she had been educated, so that she would not be as ignorant as she is right now. 

My sister, like hundreds of others in Oghara are deluded, brain-washed and blind. 

“Oya Oya paint your face with chalk”, she said, whisking me back to reality. She had adorned herself with her best things: her yellow patterned scarf doing “to-match” with her bag and shoe, reminding me about the other things she is illiterate about. 

We took to the streets and people had already started singing and dancing. They were waiting for their king. The looks on these people’s faces and you could tell that they could die for him. Why? I do not know. How ignorant could we as a nation be? A king who sold his people, still worshipped by them. It will definitely get worse if we don’t wise up. All my mind was my locust and popo garri waiting for me at home.

At about 3:30pm he arrived Oghara, and the carnival took off. See people in their numbers. They were dying to touch the hem of his shirt, to shake him, or just to breathe the same air that he did. The people raised their branches high in praise and cheer as he made his way through the crowd – his A1 security aides getting rid of anything in sight. 

Almighty James Onanefe Ibori, back from the United Kingdom after serving almost seven years for fraud came back a son, a messiah, a king in the eyes of the very people he rendered jobless and poverty-stricken as a result of his looting. Their eyes mirrored a hero – and the reflected, triumphant.

 
I looked around and saw that my people perish from poverty of the mind. Oh but then I realized… Right there in the crowd was me, with an orange tree branch in my hand and chalk on my face, just because I needed some money from my sister to go back to school. I realized… that change begins with me. 

THE SO CALLED POWER OF LOVE

It was Aunty Tolu again. But this time, she had decided that the perfect new year look should be an uneven plastering of fake foundation on her face, two lines of red lipstick, and bat wings for eyelashes. As usual, her skirt was overly skimpy, and her wig was bound to crash any moment. Haha. Aunty tolu.

The annoying part used to be being her namesake. I would always cringe at the fact that I was sharing a name with a woman who sits in the street sane one moment, and crazy the next. 
But she wasn’t always like this… Crazy and unaware of her crazy. About 10 years or more before now, she was beautiful, excellent, sharp… I know because her story is like some folklore, handed down to each person who moves into the community.

She was in love once, with a young man whom she had cemented all her dreams around. Her first love, giving up her life and dreams for him. It was unreal, they were perfect. She was consumed by his burning love, not breathing, eating or living without him. 

Then she missed it. What a way to finally make him hers, or so she thought. As she broke the news to him, she got a vibe way different from all she had envisaged, and in about two months, he had eloped with a “bride-to-be”.

Yes, heartbreak is truly a thing as we all know. That pang we feel in our chests as though it’s ripping, with heat rising to your throat almost choking you, tearing up your eyes and forcing a release. But what we didn’t all know is how raving mad you could actually get. Aunty Tolu ran psychotic on the streets of Batipa. 

So everyday she would emerge, from her flat, made-up like a beast and dressed in white, her stomach already rotund. Everyday was her wedding day. Somewhere in her batty head it resonated, that her love was still coming. And she continued day after day, dressing and waiting, dressing and waiting then nursing, dressing and waiting. Years passed and she tarried , getting weary of the cycle, though she never gave up.

Till one day she saw something, in her daughter’s eyes she saw something she indeed never lost. Her love, the man who had left, had left with her a piece of him to keep forever. Oh how striking the resemblance is! And we have soon found that the power of the so called love that drove her mad, may be that, which is bringing her back to her senses. 
Slowly though, but surely.

My first light.

My heart palpitated wildly. My feelings were all over the place. The sound waves in and around the room multiplied. I could hear everything.. From the wailing through the laughing and the footsteps with the running down the hallway. My mother’s scent and Bessie’s, as well as the fresh scent of the flowers growing right outside the window. A fresh start, a new day.
I could almost taste it. The different scents, the anticipation, the quivering of Charles’ fingers upon my pretty face. Everything was definitely spinning around me. I was light-headed, a little woozy from shaky expectations. A sweat bead dropped from my forehead to my top and I heard it.
My mother was seated exactly adjacent from where I was. Trying to stop her tears from streaming, with her jittery legs causing the ground to quake beneath mine. Her palms, clasped around her mouth as though she were going to choke her own self.
“Relax. You can cry if you want.”I said to myself.

Bessie was by the foot of the bed, the warmth from her body increasing as she tarried. I could almost see it, the color of her eyes and skin, the T-shirt she took from me and how it playfully matched her pretty little shorts. The blue iPhone that blared Rihanna’s new song, “…when I wake up in the morning I can’t get no peace of mind…” 

Or was it not blaring? 

Oh. No. Heightened-hearing alert.

Well I swear we had all been seated thirty minutes and Charles still wasn’t done yet. Cutting and tearing carefully, piece by piece, revealing my new acquisition.
By now, it was no longer just one bead of sweat on my forehead. All I could think was what if?

Everything ceased when they opened. The atmosphere stilled. The wailing down the hallway, the sound waves, the scents, Rihanna… Everything. It felt as though my brain had just had a new baby, and took all its attention away from her other kids. It was overwhelming. 
Then my hearing came back, duller. I still couldn’t smell the flowers. My mother and sister looked nothing like I had imagined. Then Dr Charles… I had just seen my first light.

Subspace.

Subspace. 
I knew I was crazy when I found myself purchasing white long sleeved shirts for work instead of my regular short sleeved ones.

I used to hate those. HATE.

They know it, from the way they look at me..like I am some devil, the worst that there is. They judge me. They look at me and see absolute filth. I am damaged and still damaging. 

Walking into the chambers each morning they would peer at me like they are trying to check my soul and wonder why someone so beautiful, so intelligent could be so deformed. I promise you it has nothing to do with I.Q.But I can’t help it. And they know.My disorder worsens each day and there isn’t any light at the end of the tunnel. I need help..

Becoming a lawyer had always been my dream. I had always been intrigued by the audacity and wit at which lawyers spoke, smart, dapper in their black and white, chin up as they defend the weak and hopeless..like me, weak..hopeless.. 
I wish I had a lawyer to defend me fifteen years ago.

Twenty-seven years old now, and dream accomplished. Only, my disorder lingers like a tie around my neck, choking me, draining me of the young success I always aspired to be.

The other day at the court, rape trial, I was the defense attorney for the victim. I lost.. But before then, I had never lost a case. I recall vividly that day, what all the talk about rape did to me.. How it reminded me of Uncle Timothy, and how I really wish I had my own defense attorney all those years ago. Well who would have believed a naive twelve year old over her uncle? A respectable deacon in church? 

That was not all the talk did to me that day. Rape..

I entered into a subspace; a hypnotic trance. I started to convulse from within, sweat beads forming on my temples as I fought the urge to take off my blazer. Looking at the accused, I felt a fire burn within me. Not anger, but want. Just hearing about it triggered in me things unexplainable. Jaqué. 

Memories about how my life changed so much from the day I was brutally raped and beaten, filled my head while in the courtroom. That day was the beginning of all my life is right now.

Crazy? Not close. Obsessed. For everyday I’m thinking about it, longing, wishing, checking the time to see if it’s almost closing hours so I can go home to Jaqué, my master.

Few months ago, Jefferson, my assistant, hit his foot against my desk. He screamed like a pussy.

“Why do you always take off your shoes?!” Milly yelled from across. 

Then Jeff started to bleed. His left big toenail had yanked out of his foot. He howled. I didn’t know how badly I had been ruined till Milly came close to check Jeff’s foot and saw my nipples rock hard underneath my tight blouse. They poked even through my brassiere, and I hadn’t noticed. I could feel the gusts of epinephrine leave my adrenal glands. All I knew was I was engulfed in his pain and it had taken me to peaks you could never imagine, inducing a euphoric, ecstatic feeling in me right in the office. I was dripping. 

I climaxed there, just knowing Jefferson felt pain, some form of pain from my weapon; my desk. I felt like I had exerted that on him. I felt like Jaqué. 

The long white shirts have now become a necessity. To cover up the scars from the cuffs and the chains and the ropes, the burns from the hot wax Jaqué.. 

I bought a black scarf for my neck..

So many bruises..  

My hair falls out casually now, I run my fingers through it when I’m lost in my Subspace anticipating and fantasizing sometimes, and catch more than a few strands leaving my head from all the pulling. I’m more drained these days than I ever was because of the preparations and the scenes. The role-play.. It’s crazy, no I’m crazy.. And now everyday I’m more addicted than I ever was and I can’t stop. I leave before closing hours now.
Milly barely says anything to me anymore. She knows and I know she knows from the way she looks at me. They all know.

Sadomasochism.

Just a bloody cycle.

There’s nothing like the smell of long awaited rain hitting the parched earth with helpings to the grasses and trees. With each fine drop, each green sort of revitalizes.. Bounces.. In its new found energy from its quenched thirst. Nature is so amazing.With each cold, crystal-clear drop of rain, came a scalding one from within my eyes, streaming down my face in the most thespian manner, hitting my pillow with a thud, forming a beautiful rhythm with the tha-thump-thump of my heart. With each burning drop, I ….. Recoil.. In this new found hurt from my unquenched desire. 

The desire to be loved. Not just loved.. because, oh, I am loved by a lot. But this certain ignited desire wants what It can never secure. 

“Hmm… It’s just a bloody cycle.” XYZ said while he peered down in my eyes with his, forcing a smile, stirring up discomfort in me as he did. 

“Yes” is all I could muster back. 

I made the excuse of the skies getting dark, to leave. I couldn’t bear what I saw in his eyes after I told him I was in his exact shoes. Loving someone who will not reciprocate. 

The walk from his place to mine is usually five minutes tops. But this morning it was about twenty. Or more? My ears grew hot, my throat clogged with steam. My ducts anticipated a release. I had to hurry in before the downpour from both bodies. My brain, still echoing “…just a bloody cycle.”

My eyes challenged the clouds this morning. It was a great battle- with both relieving themselves of a buildup. You could guess who won. 

Happy Valentine’s!

Beautiful marriage, beautiful kids, beautiful sixteen years of marriage. Well minus the seven years of dating though. My husband is my all. A true gem. Definition of the perfect man. He my CCG (chunk of chocolatey goodniss) And I wouldn’t trade him for the world. 

Every Saturday we would go to the mall to buy some groceries, and maybe some other random stuff like clothes for the kids. We are at the mall today loading carts of goodies. It’s so stressful, so glad he does this with me. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. I tell him I’ll be back in a bit, I’ve got to pick up some fresh bread. 

I catch him looking into a show-glass inside a jewelry store when I’m back from fetching the bread. From pearls to diamonds and every other precious stones you could think of! I hide, to see what he’ll do next. Yes! Yes! He picks one- it’s sapphire, deep blue as the sea. Gosh he knows how much I love blue. But he drops it and picks some pearls instead. This man is my exact match from haven. Aiyayiye! The way I can’t wait to rock these and brag to my sistas at the beauty shop! He looks around to be sure I’m not in sight, then pays! Leaving the store, hiding it in his bag of groceries.

You could see my smile almost breaking the muscles of my cheeks. He asking the reason for the sudden excitement and why I’m jumping around the car so much. “Hinny you gonna break the eggs!” He said. But I couldn’t help it. He was getting me all I ever wanted for Valentine’s. My very own pretty pearls.

I swear I scarcely slept all night. I was sweating like a mad dog, tossing and turning just happy about my maaaan. After all these years our love still burnt like a flame..

Morning came and he gave me the box! “Happy valentines!”

I have the sweatiest palms as I unwrap my box of.. The box of sets of “No Secret” lace underwear… No secret? 

Oh..

I see it now..

The pretty pearls weren’t mine.. 

Back to square one.

You’re relapsing again and again. You’re falling back into illness again and again. Backsliding, just after convalescence.. Yet again.Only five days ago you were improving, recovering, never before had you felt so bracing. Invigorating, your ailment no longer enslaving. Clear thoughts, clear heart, clear head, clear mind, this malady has definitely left you behind. The prayer upon you by that pastor was all you ever needed. You were positive that you were now negative, that all traces of it was gone. And all his advice following, you heeded. Day one, day two, day three, day four, you knew you’ve not gone that long before. Before you feel the heat inside your veins, reminding you of your life in chains. You have never been more excited. Free at last so delighted. From sickness you’ve now been evicted. Your mood has never been so lifted. It’s early morning on day five. You’ve never felt more alive. Not for long for its time to die. You feel the heat inside your veins, realize the prayers were a lie. Your mind starts racing, sweat beads on your face as you’re pacing, you never were cured of this ailing. Your right hand now anticipating. Not all his advice you heeded, for deep in your heart you still kneaded, immoral thoughts that you never weeded, the videos you never deleted. You sight the bottle on the counter. Inching closer, it’s such an enchanter. One more time won’t hurt anyone, you say, as towards it you saunter. Emptying the contents of the bottle in your hand, your third leg has already taken its stand. A few moments of thrusts and it’s done. And all the prayers a waste, all gone. You feel your guardian angel leave your side forlorn. Yes definitely, you’re back to square one. 

Some catfish soup!

Never underestimate the power of your guardian angel. NEVER.

The day could not have been more drudging. Like, I woke up looking to the sky and it had never been so arid. Picked up my cell, it read “three new messages” and I sighed, more than expected. I knew today would be one of those commonplace days that wouldn’t hold anything interesting, so I went back to bed by 9:08 am , the life of a “single to stupor”.

Anyway I woke up! Of course I did, and picked up my phone to reply the unread messages. This was around 12pm. My uncle had buzzed me. “I was wondering if you would like to check out my new place at Ogudu” he said. And me, hesitation right now was not in my dictionary! I hastened to his place and we sped off.

The new apartment is so chilled. With the amazing catfish pond right behind it. Let me tell you, my uncle is obsessed with catfish, so I won’t be surprised if this pond is what gingered his getting the place. Anyway, the view of the slithering animals began to give way to his catfish cravings. As we started to make our way home, he initiated a plan that we go to a pepper soup joint he frequented, to down a hefty bowl of catfish broth. Not being a fan of fish, I refused to be a part of it but he persisted. And so I agreed. 

The joint opens in the evening so we decided to drive through places to kill time. He then decided to call his longtime friend to join in the splurge. Eventually, it was 6pm sharp and we immediately made our way to some really big pepper soup spot on the island. 

There were scarcely any people seated, as the joint was only just opening. It was a rather weird place, plastic tables with lager branded advertisements as well as on the plastic chairs, fridges stocked to the brim with assorted alcoholic drinks and beer, the tantalizing aroma of brewing pepper soup lingering in the air, in fact, I knew in only a few minutes it would start to be bubbly.

And bubbly it was! 

That is how my uncle placed the order. One big bowl of fish, big enough for four mouths! Thank heavens we were three. Waiting for it, we ordered for drinks and began sipping them. 

The young boy who took our order was holding two big bowls, making his way to our table as well as the table behind us. He dropped one on ours, then the other for a man and his masculine looking girlfriend. 

As I said earlier, not having a special spot for fish, I was still sipping my malt drink, unlooking while my uncle and his friend were almost halfway through! Suddenly, the masculine looking woman began to move in a funny way. She got up, clenching her stomach, her plastic chair with a “star lager beer logo”falling behind her. She fell to the ground and started screaming that her stomach was on fire! Her boyfriend followed suit! On the bare floor they rolled, in excruciating pain. 

Meanwhile, we had paused our food in horror. We looked at each other , waiting for who would be next in the writhing contest. My heart was racing and pounding and thumping. “So will I die like this? I knew I didn’t want to eat this thing.” Is all I kept thinking. We were already on our feet, as the pandemonium had pulled the crowd to watch what was ensuing. Those two were in real pain. It was only a few moments before they gave up the ghost.. And my oh my they did, right there on the ground! 

“Hei! Chei! Chimo! Ye!” Were the gruesome exclamations flying around the place with people snapping their fingers over their heads in a “God-forbid” fashion. “Alu!”

The thing is, why did those people die from eating the same thing we were served? We were not leaving till we found that out. Though, somewhere in our hearts, we weren’t satisfied that all was well with us, we thought that maybe, just maybe, ours was coming later. I was still engulfed in fear, I mean just watching two people die right in front of me in a flash, just like that, I mean it was too much. My body was shaking.

The Iya-oni-pepper soup was at the scene and was already accosted. She was clueless. This was something that she had tasted while making. Our table was served and we were still okay and her daughter had served herself some and was perfectly fine! Trust Yoruba people, they weren’t letting her off so easy, though her eyes hinted truth to all that she had said. 

Just then, the young boy who brought our meals to us was spotted trying to leave through the back of the joint, since the front was already occupied with drama. “Ma je Ko lo! Gbe, ah, apayan ma ni omo kekere yi o!”

The boy was caught just in time and rounded up for questioning. Meanwhile, instead of the crowd to device a means of taking care of the two dead people, they started to look for what they could steal and the others stood taking pictures of them, screaming “alu!” With their hands folded on their chests and heads.

They had already started shellacking the boy, as his trying to escape was enough indication to the crowd, that he had a hand. “Confess, confess, confess!”

That’s how the boy started: 

“Na one broda wey give me money, he say I should put something inside the pepper soup I want to give to this broda” gesturing to my uncle! The shock was too much. To who?? We came closer. He continued.. “Yes this broda, he say na him friend, say he want make him purge that na like that dey dey take play” he said, amidst tears.They beat, the living daylight out of the poor boy’s body, but what does he know, he’s only just a boy!

It was like a freaking facade. Who sent him? And why? Who does my uncle even know that would probably want him gone and for what reason? How did the person know we would be there? How desperate could he possibly be?? Whoever the person was, had a target and it was him. Only God knows for what reason. We have nothing else to say but to thank God.

 We finally got to the car and were unable to drive for almost 15 minutes. We were engulfed in a period of piercing silence as we made our way home. We could have freaking died only few minutes ago.

I’m on my bed, still quivering. Recounting every spoon of soup and fish I ate, not knowing it could have been my last meal. My last meal? 

People, eat every meal and live everyday like it would be your very last.

The way my day went from being so uneventful, to being so.. 
..bubbly.

Boju Boju.

“Boju Boju oh o, Boju Boju oh o, oloro mbo, Eparamo oh o, se ki n si? Si si si si!” 

I’m the only one that can’t hide so I watch as my twin sister remains sprawled under the dilapidated, navy blue Volvo that my father has had parked in the compound way before I was born. My sister and her friends are playing hide and seek. But I’m the only one that can’t hide.

The sunset is such an alluring thing to watch. The algid breeze rustling dead leaves by my legs, the red and green-headed lizards retiring, making their way to the cool walls for their night rest, and the “Leke-leke” soaring above my head in their numbers. I’m stretching my hands out as far as possible to receive their gifts upon my nails.. “White-finger” as we often called it.

I would rather this, than join in their stupid game. In fact, I feel like telling Faderera where the rest of them are hiding so the game will quickly come to a close and I can finally hear word. Call me envious, that’s your cup of tea but it’s a stupid way to waste time. 

Okay, I am envious. Envious of the way my sister and her friends are having so much fun. Running around, laughing and playing. It must be nice to have friends and play.. I don’t know what it feels like.. To laugh. I have no reason to. It must be really nice to run.. 

The moon is out now. It’s time to go inside and Taiye rushes past me, almost brushing my side. I almost want to believe she does it all intentionally. But we are blood? Not just any type of blood, twins.. Who shared the same womb for nine whole months. Still, she behaves like she is demonic, to me, that is. 

I on the other hand, am still waiting on my elder sister, Aunty Yetunde, to come for me. 
Maybe, just maybe they have forgotten me out here today. 

The moon is shining brighter than ever. The stars look so mainstream and insignificant. I feel insignificant. 

The mosquitoes have had a fair share. 

It should be about eight o’clock but no one is out yet. I wouldn’t call on anyone. I want to see when they will remember.. 
They didn’t.

Mom is back from the school where she teaches. She sees me out in the cold and dark all alone. She runs…

She lifts me, and my tiny feeble legs dangle right beneath her strong arms. She’s crying again and apologizing, again. But it’s not her fault my legs don’t work.. It’s polio’s.

“Skullinjuri”

My parents were just two different people. I loved my dad. He was loyal to me and nana and bee, he was even loyal to my ma who really was undeserving of his loyalty.He took me everywhere when he was around. Ma said he was in the navy and that explains why he went for long periods and came back for only a few weeks before going again. Yeah as I was saying, he took me everywhere. And got me everything I wanted. Last time, I asked for a red aero plane and he got me two – red AND blue! So now bee and I played together, chasing each other’s planes but he always won. He used to buy bee and me ice cream almost every night, even when ma says not to, because I have sinusitis, which means I always have a cold, and ice cream makes it worse because it’s cold. But he would sneak us underneath the house and make us eat it together while he said jokes to us then we’d laugh. Daddy usually said the same jokes over and over again but I’d laugh every time, and so did bee, because he would make it sound different every time. This is why I loved my daddy. Did I mention bee is my little brother and I’m seven years old? Bee is turning five next fall.

My ma seemed like the very opposite. I just learned the word “opposite” at school this week, so I’m trying to use it often. Anyways, she was the very OPPOSITE of daddy. She was NOT loyal to me or bee or daddy or nana or Paul (our dog) or anyone. She didn’t make jokes with us, and never smiled. Even when daddy tried to make her happy when he brought flowers, she’d just kiss his forehead and drop them on the counter and it’s in the trash by morning. I didn’t like my ma. She never smiled.

I saw her sometimes, she’d just sit and look straight at the wall for minutes, like Paul does when he “plays” dead. I would get scared when she starts but then I’d come close and see her chest move up and down and realize she was still breathing. She would have little clear empty bags around her, well they would have contained some things I don’t know before she uses them and leaves the bags empty. It was when she used them that she would look straight at the wall, unable to move for long hours. She did this when daddy was away, even when he comes back from navy but away from the house maybe at uncle joe’s because he goes there a lot. Uncle joe is his brother. 

Today, daddy yelled at ma. First time I will ever see daddy so angry at anyone. Okay not really the first, he got mad at Ms Ophelia who stays next door, for leaving her pipes on and let it flood all the way into our yard, ruining all of daddy’s plants in the backyard. Anyway, daddy yelled at ma today. He left uncle joe ‘s early and met ma with her empty little clear bags on the sofa staring into the wall. He called her name a dozen times but she looked too tired to answer, she just stared deep into our brown and black wallpaper, like she was trying to understand why they were shaped in flowers and not anything else. He was screaming her name and shaking her, holding the clear bags and close to tears. “I thought you promised me years ago that you wasn’t gon do this stuff anymore Rosie! Rosie lookie me!” I was watching from my door and I wanted to go there and call her name too so daddy wouldn’t scream so much. But I was scared. Ma started to cough up blood and it came out her nose too. Daddy came for me. He packed my two favorite shirts and my blue and red airplanes. He packed bee’s shirts too and took me outside to meet bee who was playing in the garden. Daddy was crying and this made me and bee cry too while we entered the car, and he drove so fast. I don’t think he knew where we were going but we left anyway. And daddy was crying and crying on the steering wheel and he was hitting the steering wheel while he was driving and he wasn’t really watching the road because people was honking at us for driving so bad. And then after some time he said to us that we won’t be seeing ma in a very long time and we nodded our heads in agreement. And after he started driving so fast and me and bee started to get to scared and this made bee start to cry again. Daddy then lost control of the car and we hit a big tree with him hitting his head on the windscreen. Me and bee were unhurt. There was so much blood and we were so scared. People started to come close to our car and they called the ambulance and they took daddy and us with them. Then at the hospital we were told that daddy died. I think they said he had a “skullinjuri”, don’t know what that is so I’m not sure I’m pronouncing it right. We waited in the nice doctor’s office and she gave me and bee two candy bars each while we waited. And ma was called to take us away. They got her number from daddy’s cell. She didn’t cry and she didn’t look sad. She just thanked the cops and took us in her car and drove back home. 

I forgot my red and blue planes in daddy’s car and i want his jokes and some ice cream now. I know he’s never coming back but bee thinks he is. I don’t know how I’m gonna tell him. 

Ma was in the living room again with her clear bags. I went to check on her to see if her chest was going up and down. It wasn’t going up and down this time so I went to call Ms Ophelia. She screamed and said call 911 but it was too late.