Nnedi Okorafor - Lagoon

“Please,” Kola said to it. “Don’t be like that. Didn’t you say that you came here to talk to us?”

Fred was staring at the monkey, his eyes glassy and his mouth hanging open. He needed a nap. He needed real rest. They all did. The monkey pulled the sides of its mouth down, looking even more sullen. It crossed its tiny thin arms over its furry body and turned its back to Kola. It was clenching its fists so tightly that Adaora could hear the tiny joints pop. Ayodele had changed herself into this creature an hour ago because she’d decided that she no longer wanted to be a human being.

“I don’t think we should stay here long,” Anthony murmured, looking out the front window.

“I know,” Adaora said, joining him.

They watched Father Oke for a moment. He’d approached with about twenty-five others and now they stood on the lawn in front of the plantain tree. Father Oke marched back and forth, speaking passionately and gesticulating wildly. His flock clapped and waved their hands in the air, rejuvenated by whatever he was stirring them up to do. On the road behind them, a band of young men set upon a parked car, smashing the windows with tire irons and bricks. Some of them laughed and pointed at Father Oke and his people.

An okada pulled up to the curb outside Adaora’s house and someone climbed down. Adaora squinted, trying to see what was happening. The woman and the driver exchanged words and then the driver sped off. The woman shouted after him, looked around and started walking. She was wearing jeans and a red blouse and she walked with an unafraid, angry gait.

When the woman passed the group of destructive Area Boys they pointed and laughed. One even smacked her backside. The woman glared at the boy and slapped him in the face. He only laughed as he shoved her along. She cursed at the boys but kept moving. Father Oke and his congregation were too preoccupied to notice the woman and her troubles, let alone offer her any assistance.

Bad, bad, bad , Adaora thought, shivering. This is a bad situation about to get worse . She got to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Adaora closed the door quietly and descended the stairs into her lab. Chris was staring at the remains of her aquarium. She didn’t follow his eyes. She could smell her dead pet sea creatures and that was enough.

“Chris,” she whispered.

He didn’t turn around. After eating the bowl of jollof rice Anthony had placed in front of him, Chris had gone on to eat some leftover gari and egusi soup Adaora had made days ago. Then he’d eaten some biscuits, a bag of groundnuts and three oranges, and washed it all down with a bottle of Guinness from a box the rioters had missed in the cupboard.

“I’ll… I’ll go out and talk to Father Oke,” Chris said.

“No,” Adaora replied. “Are you blind? The man’s gone mad.” She took a deep breath and made herself speak before she could lose her nerve. “Take the children to your mother’s. They live in that gated community and—”

Chris whirled around, fire in his eyes. “How stupid do you think I am?”

“What? Chris, I’m just—”

“I saw you,” he said.

Adaora frowned, confused.

“Witch, harlot, tramp… whore !” He whispered his words, but this didn’t make them any less painful to him or Adaora. “I saw you with him, Adaora.” He sneered. “Wife.”

“You… saw? Saw what?”

“‘Saw what?’, she asks.” He stepped up to her. “Saw you ! You and that soldier in the car, kissing. Out in public, like a common whore.”

Adaora was too shocked to speak.

Chris nodded. “God shows all,” he said. “In Jesus’s name.”

“I… I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean…”

“ Don’t! ” He lowered his voice. “Don’t give me that rubbish. You did something to me… before you left, you did something to me. You probably did it to him, too. If I could beat it out of you, I would. Because I love you, you are my wife. But you’re evil. Father Oke was right about that. You’re a marine witch. Tell me you are not a witch, tell me I didn’t feel what I felt. Tell me it wasn’t you holding me down on the floor when we were fighting.” He paused, and when she didn’t say anything, he added, “I don’t want you near the children.”

“I don’t care what you want,” she snapped. “They’re my children, too. I gave birth to them, not you!”

His eyes grew wide and his face went from brown to a deep dark brown red. He clenched his hands into fists. But Adaora wasn’t afraid of him. She could feel it inside her. All she had to do was let herself loose and this fight, like the last one, would be over before it began. She stared him down.

“Is everything OK down there?” Anthony called from the top of the stairs.

“Mommy?” Kola called. “Daddy?”

Chris’s eyes were twitching, but he was unclenching his fists.

“Yes, we’re fine,” Adaora said. She didn’t let her eyes leave Chris’s. “Just… talking. Kola, we’ll be up soon.”

“You sure?” Anthony said.

“We’re fine.”

“OK.”

Adaora didn’t hear the door shut and she was glad. She swallowed and repeated the hardest words of her life. “Take them to your mother’s. It’s safer there.”

“And you’ll stay here? To wait for him?”

“To finish this thing with Ayodele,” she said. “We need to get her to the President.”

“Let the soldier do it. That’s his job, not yours.”

“It needs to be the three of us.”

“Why?”

“It’s… it’s God’s will.” Adaora held her breath.

Chris laughed hard and she was relieved when he stepped away. “You know nothing of God’s will.”

Neither do you , she thought.

“You’ll leave your children to go with him ?” he asked.

“Oh my God,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Didn’t you see what Ayodele…” She took a deep breath, gathering herself. “Listen to what’s going on out there! Did you not hear what she said? This isn’t about our relationship, or whether I’m a bad mother!”

“You’re leaving me.”

Adaora sighed and looked away. “This is not the time for this conversation, Chris.”

“You decided to allow him to touch you.” His eyes glistened as he traced his fingers over her face. Every part of her wanted to flinch, but she didn’t. “God is always in control,” he said. Then he strode past her and up the stairs. Adaora sat down on the bottom step and looked at her feet, smelling the destruction.

Later, upstairs, she found Kola and Fred slipping on their shoes and arguing over who got to tell Grandma everything. Chris was packing biscuits, groundnuts and bananas into a briefcase. Anthony leaned against the counter, his arms across his chest, silent. Chris glared at Adaora but said nothing. Ayodele, still in her tiny monkey form, sat on the dinner table, her furry back to everyone.

“We called Grandma,” Kola said. “She said if we could get there, we will be safe!”

Adaora nodded. “She’s right.”

“Yet you’ll stay here where it isn’t safe at all,” Chris said.

Silence. Something outside crunched loudly.

“Correct. I’ll stay,” she finally said.

“Why?” Fred asked, breathing heavily. His nostrils were flaring. Adaora knew the look; he was trying not to cry. Kola hugged him to her.

“We need to wait for Agu,” Adaora said, trying not to cringe at the anticipation of Chris’s reaction.

“Why?” Chris snapped. “Is he your husband?”

Anthony chuckled to himself and looked at his feet, muttering, “Nonsense.”

“Kola, Fred, go upstairs and grab some of your school books.”