Chapter 5
745 Words
PERCELIA’S POV
Light swallowed Adaora whole.
Also sluggishly, the brilliance weakened, shelling back like a curtain.
Shapes formed.
Walls. A rustic table.
A familiar patterned curtain fluttering by the window.
Adaora’s breath hitched.
It was her last home.
But not as it looked now aged, lower, nearly untouched by time. This was time gone.
She stood in the doorway, unseen, as if the memory didn't register her presence.
Her mama stood in the center of the room.
Chinwe.
Alive.
Beautiful.
Tired.
Holding the commodity tight against her casket.
Adaora stepped near, though she knew she was only watching.
Her voice broke.
Mama,
Chinwe couldn't hear her.
The memory played on.
The Foreigner
A knock echoed.
establishment.
critical.
Wrong.
Chinwe squinched and hid the object she was holding shoving it into a woven bag and pulling the drawstrings tight.
She wiped her face snappily, uncurled her wrapper, and went to the door.
When he opened it, an elderly man stepped outside. His presence stupefied the room. His eyes were too dark, too focused, as if he saw further than a normal person should.
Adaora artificially backed up, indeed though she knew the man couldn't see her.
Chinwe crossed her arms.
Her voice was firm but shaking under.
You shouldn't be then.
The man smiled without warmth.
You made a trade, Chinwe. And trades must be kept.
Adaora’s stomach twisted.
The request.
Her mama had been ahead.
This was the evidence.
Chinwe stepped between him and the woven bag.
I paid my price.
The man listed his head.
Not completely.
Adaora wanted the memory to stop.
But it continued mercilessly.
The Price Revealed The man walked sluggishly around the room, touching nothing but examining everything.
You asked for protection,he said.
Protection for your son.
Adaora’s breath stilled.
Her legs felt weak.
Her mama gripped her jaw.
Yes. I would give anything for her.
The man smiled slightly.
And you did. But part of your debt remains.
Chinwe stepped back, shaking her head.
No. No more. I won't give up anything differently.
The man’s eyes were stoned.
You formerly did.
He signaled toward the woven bag.
Adaora goggled at it.
The bag glowed noiselessly just like the memories in the request.
Her mama had traded commodities.
The commodity is big.
The commodity is precious.
But what?
The man’s voice cut the silence.
One day, she'll come looking. When she does, the request will call her back.
Adaora felt cold each day.
Chinwe rumored, voice breaking
Please let her forget. I did what I did to save her.
The man’s voice softened, nearly aching.
Memory is like a swash, Chinwe. You can block it but it'll always find another way.
He turned toward the door.
When the girl comes, the cycle will end. Or begin again.
Adaora’s heart pounded sorrowfully.
He was talking about her.
The Last Words
At the doorway, he broke and looked back.
Prepare yourself. Your son will soon learn what you hid.
Chinwe sank into the presidency after he left.
She pressed her hands to her face.
She rumored, breaking
Adaora, forgive me.
Adaora felt gashes soak her own eyes.
Forgive you for what?
But the memory didn't answer.
Chinwe reached into the woven bag and pulled out the glowing object, its shape unclear but pulsing noiselessly like a heart.
She hugged it to her casket, crying quietly.
also,
Light burst again.
The memory dissolved.
Adaora fell backward into darkness also crashed back into the roof, heaving.
Back on the roof. Her triumphs were on the ground.
Her twinkle thundered in her cognizance.
Madam Ebele stood over her.
Her voice was calm, but her eyes were sharp.
Now you understand.
Adaora pushed herself up, gashes on her cheeks.
Understand what? What did she trade? What did she give up for me?
Ebele studied her.
That's the coming variety you must find.
Adaora gripped her hands.
Her voice quivered.
Why didn't she just tell me?
Ebele exhaled.
Because she believed anguish was too heavy for a child.
Adaora swallowed hard, shaking.
I need to know what she offered. I need the rest of the memory.
Ebele turned down.
Also you must earn it.
Adaora’s voice cracked
How?
Madam Ebele lifted the roof delirium and said
By facing the burden you refuse to name.
Adaora set.
She knew what Ebele meant.
Her guilt.
Her secret fear.
The moment she never said out loud.
Ebele’s eyes met hers.
Until you face that variety, the answers will stay retired.
- Writer
