I divorce you.”
SISTER
Ayoola is lying on her bed, angling her body to show Snapchat her injury. I wait for her to finish, and she eventually pulls her shirt back down over her stitches, puts her phone to one side and grins at me. Even now, she looks blameless. She is wearing cotton shorts and a white camisole and is holding on to one of the plush bears on her bed.
“Will you tell me what happened?”
On the bedside table is an open box of candy, a get-well-soon gift. She plucks out a lollipop, unwraps it and sticks it in her mouth, sucking on it thoughtfully.
“Between Tade and me?”
“Yeah.”
She sucks some more.
“He said you broke my ring. Said you were accusing me of all sorts and that maybe you had something to do with my ex going missing…”
“What…what…did you say?”
“I told him he was crazy. But he said you were really jealous of me and had some kind of…umm…latent anger…that what if”—she pauses for dramatic effect—“what if you had gone back, after we left, you know, to talk to Femi…”
“He thinks I killed Femi?!” I grab Ayoola’s arm, even though she is not to blame this time. How could he think I was capable of that?
“Weird, right? I didn’t even tell him about Femi. Only Gboye. Maybe he saw it on Insta. Anyway, it’s like he wanted to report you or something…So I did what I had to do.” She shrugs. “Or at least I tried.”
She grabs a bear, buries her head in it and is quiet.
“And then?”
“Then when I was on the ground, he was all like, oh my gooooosh, Korede was telling the truth. What did you tell him, Ko-re-de?”
She did this for me and ended up hurt because I betrayed her. I feel dizzy. I don’t want to admit that I chose a man’s welfare over hers. I don’t want to confess to letting him come between us, when she clearly chose me over him. “I…I told him you were dangerous.”
She sighs and asks, “What do you think will happen now?”
“There will be an investigation of sorts.”
“Will they believe his story?
“I don’t know…it’s his word against yours.”
“Against ours, Korede. It’s his word against ours.”
FATHER
Yoruba people have a custom of naming twins Taiwo and Kehinde. Taiwo is the older twin, the one who comes out first. Kehinde, therefore, is the second-born twin. But Kehinde is also the older twin, because he says to Taiwo, “Go out first and test the world for me.”
This is certainly how Father considered his position as the second twin. And Aunty Taiwo agreed—she did everything he told her to and held an unquestioning trust in everything he did. Which is how—doing what she was told, unquestioningly—she found herself in the house with us the Monday before our father died, shouting at me to let go of Ayoola.
“No!” I screamed, pulling Ayoola even closer to me. My father was not around and, though I knew I would pay for my obstinacy later, later was a while away. His absence now gave me courage, and the promise of his return made me determined.
“Your father will hear of this,” Aunty Taiwo threatened. But I couldn’t have cared less. I had already begun to develop plans in my head for Ayoola’s and my escape. Ayoola held on to me tighter, even as I promised I would not let her go.
“Please,” Mother moaned from one of the corners in the room. “She is too young.”
“She should not have been flirting with her father’s guest, then.”
My mouth dropped open in disbelief. What lies had my father been telling? And why did he insist that Ayoola go to meet the chief man in his home, alone? I must have uttered the question out loud because Aunty Taiwo replied, “She will not be alone; I will be there.” As though that were any kind of reassurance. “Ayoola, it is important that you do this for your father,” she said in a wheedling voice. “This business opportunity is very critical. He will buy you whatever phone you want, when he gets the contract. Isn’t that exciting?!”
“Don’t make me go,” Ayoola cried.
“You are not going anywhere,” I told her.
“Ayoola,” Aunty Taiwo coaxed, “you are not a child anymore. You have started menstruating. Many girls would be excited about this. This man will give you anything you want. Anything.”
“Anything?” Ayoola asked between sniffs. I slapped her to bring her back to her senses. But I understood. Half of her fear was because I was afraid. She