The day of the wake was rainy. People buzzed in and out of the house in fancy black, mumbling their condolences. They stood around her in silence, wanting her to scream, shout, tear her clothes, or break some of the life-sized figurines that lined the living room.
“Aunty,” Ify, her heavy-bosomed niece, called.
“Hmm…” August mumbled from her reverie
“Are you sure you don’t want anything?”
August shook her head slowly.
“Get her some tea,” her mother-in-law said, dramatically fanning herself with a large peacock-feathered fan. “She needs something in her belly, or we’ll be rushing her to the hospital next.”
“I’ll put on the air conditioner,” Ify announced.
“While you’re at that, you should serve some tea to everyone. The lawyer will be here soon.” Mama uncrossed her legs and walked off to pat hands with the guests, dramatically dabbing her heavily made-up cheeks with a handkerchief.
Feeling nauseated, August rushed to the master bedroom. Doubling over the toilet seat, she puked the emptiness in her belly. She stared hard at the pregnancy test kit close to the toothbrush stand. ‘How can positive feel so wrong?’ With heavy breaths, she braced herself and rinsed her mouth at the faucet, dark eyes staring back at her from the mirror. Entering the bedroom again, she eyed her surroundings. The wind from the garden swayed the linen blinds to a dance; it looked like it was going to rain again soon. A knock came from the door. It was Ify:
“Barrister Akoh is here, Aunty,” she called.
“Okay,” August answered weakly.
“Would you like to have your tea now?” Ify continued from behind the closed door.
“No, maybe later.”
“Okay. Would you like me to come in?”
“I’m fine, Ify. Don’t worry”
After a few minutes, she tightened her black robe and joined the guests downstairs. Barrister Akoh had been the family lawyer for years. He hugged and kissed her on both cheeks.
“Are you well?” he asked softly.
“I will live,” she replied. Breaking his embrace, she took a seat away from her mother-in-law’s prying eyes.
“Now that we’re all here, I’ll start immediately…” Barrister Akoh was saying when the doorbell shut him off. A moment later, the butler came to whisper in her ear:
“There’s a message for you at the door.”
She excused herself, surprised to see a delivery man.
“Mrs. Augustina Richards?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“Please sign here,” he said and handed her a letter and a parcel.
When he was gone, she turned away from the crowd and opened the letter first. The letter was addressed to her. Written simply on the cover, in a bold script, was: ‘A letter to August’ and on the inside: ‘I know what you did’. She lifted off the lid from the box. Lying there was a bloodied finger wearing a wedding band.
She squinted at the initials: R&A. It was her husband’s…
Jola Praise Ademola is a multi-genre artist, development enthusiast and writer who loves to explore creative non-fiction and poetry. A graduate of mass communication from Ahmadu Bello University, Praise is currently the executive assistant at Duniatè Culture/Art Resource Center in Kaduna and has contributed to various projects. Jola is an active volunteer with the SWAG Initiative and UNICEF Young Influencers Network amongst others. Connect with her via social media @jolaadura.
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