Refuge: Chapter 8

Posted on 30/10/2018

Staying annoyed was not a luxury Eli could afford. In this foreign land where Zoey was the only familiar face, separating himself even mentally would be foolish. He needed Zoey. Also, the fact that she kept digging her bony elbow into his side made futile his attempt to ignore her.

But he tried, for as long as possible, to keep his attention elsewhere. The ride was long and despite the AC blasting, Eli palmed the sweat from his face and rubbed against his thigh. He blamed it on the stifling heat permeating through the car metal and shifted in his chair.

The conversation in the car went on without him, Aunt Sophie filling Zoey in on her cousin’s wedding preparations. He picked up a few words of cathedral and coral beads but watched the scenes with Aunt Sophie’s warnings playing as a soundtrack.

Foilage collided into disjointed buildings that ran for a mile before tapering off to open land. He’d seen it for miles now since they left the airport. The dichotomy of the filthy rich and devastingtly poor existing together on the same dusty road wasn’t reserved to Lagos. He’d seen it many times driving with his brother Clement. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand how slums and mansions sandwiched between them could co-exist.

Miles later, the sun retreated as darkness fell over the bustling city. Only shadows and well-lit buildings remained and the traffic had eased away to only the Zoey’s welcoming entourage trucking along a smooth narrow road.

Eli suddenly sat up, spotting at the outline of a building resembling a temple in the near distance. “Is that…?”

Zoey leaned forward suddenly. “It’s a mansion.”

From the disdain in her tone, Eli glanced down at her. “Yours looks different?”

She frowned. “I don’t have a mansion.”

“But your parents do.” Eli arched a brow. “Am I prying?”

“There’s no sense in hiding who you are, Zoey dear,” Aunt Sophie interjected. “Not when we’re barely a kilometer from your father’s place. To answer your question, Eli, not many can live in this area. Real-estate here is in the billions.”

“Aunty, please.”

Eli barely registered the strain in Zoey’s voice and gaped at the well-lit homes built along the road. His sister-in-law Geri would salivate at the chance to decorate any of the grand architectural houses.

Cyrus turned the corner and the bright headlights of the Mercedez illuminated the street, revealing cars parked on either side of the road.

Aunty Sophie burst into laughter. “You can’t take the bush out of our people, no matter how far removed from the village we say we are. Do they think this is Olomo road?”

“Wow,” was Zoey’s only reply.

Eli pulled down the glass to peer out the window. The end of the narrow paved street came to a point where an elaborate metal gate barred further passage. Above the gate took his breath away. It was like a scene in a blockbuster movie; the kind where the camera pans out to display the tall and thick white columns that stood two stories tall, big grand windows beaming with light from activity inside and shadowed palm trees swaying in the breeze. If the camera panned further back, it would scan the acres of land that stretched for miles–vast landspace boasting of the owner’s wealth. Zoey’s wealth.

“Eli, we are hosting a door-knocking,” Aunty Sophie’s voice interjected Eli’s rampant thoughts. “That’s why there are so many people here.”

He could only nod, taking stock of the massive building before him. No doubt the mansion housed many rooms.

Zoey nudged his arm. “Ready?”

Though he couldn’t see her face, he imagined the hesitant smile there. She seemed to look more apologetic since they boarded their flight in London. It didn’t make him feel any better knowing that she somehow felt uncomfortable around him. He’d never been one to feel inferior about his status in life; his siblings were proud and grateful for their upbringing, and even his maternal grandmother wasn’t poor.

Being a middle-class American or a college dropout had never been a source of shame for him… he had his own life to live, and even though he wasn’t an engineer like Abe or even a missionary like Clement, Eli was proud of what he’d accomplished.

So why did he suddenly feel like the walls of the car were closing in on him?

The car stopped in front of the gate and a slender man stepped out, squinting at the bright headlights as he approached the car.

Aunt Sophie laughed and stepped out of the car. Cyrus did also, giving the young couple a brief time to themselves while they greeted the man.

Zoey’s fingers curved around his arm and clutched him a bit too tight. He frowned. Was she nervous? “You okay?”

“I haven’t been home in a while,” Zoey replied, her voice barely a whisper. “Don’t know what to expect.”

Eli was quiet. If she was this nervous about seeing her family, how did she expect him to feel about meeting them for the first time? The thought of her family staring at him with critical, scornful expressions was what nightmares were made of.

“Eleazar.”

He shook out of the thought instantly. Zoey only ever called him by his full name when she got serious or cross with him. He glanced down. “Hmm?”

“Promise me you won’t think differently of me or regret coming here after we go inside.”

The silence that followed stretched longer than she liked and Zoey’s eyes scanned his shrouded features, wishing she could read his expression. “Eleazar, answer me please.”

“That sounds ominous.”

Outside the car, Aunty Sophie’s laughter grew louder.

She pressed fingers into his skin. “Just answer, please.”

“I can’t promise that, Zo. You barely gave me any time to adjust.”

Zoey could imagine Nwando’s smug expression and shoved it clear from her mind. She scooted closer to Eli. “I was worried that you wouldn’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“My family.” Zoey heaved a sigh. “I never asked for this.”

“No one ever does. Not everyone gets to choose their family.”

There was something in his voice–she could only decipher it as pain from the contentious battle between his adopted family and his maternal grandmother about his wellbeing.

Zoey sighed again. “I can’t even begin to understand what you’ve gone through, Eli. But know that I didn’t mean to hurt you by keeping this a secret. It’s just not part of me. I’m not some spoiled-rich girl.” She wrinkled her nose even as she said that.

For years, she’d tried and failed at separating her parents’ reputation and status from her. For once in her life, she’d almost succeeded in America to be just a normal girl with normal aspirations and a normal relationship without questioning whether people approached her for what she carried, not what her parents owned. Eli was more than she’d asked for, and she didn’t want to lose that just because of her family’s increasingly-flamboyant lifestyle.

“I didn’t even know they renovated,” she snapped in annoyance. “I just don’t understand the need for all this space. My parents are empty-nesters, for goodness’ sake!”

Eli draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. “You don’t need to make excuses, Zo. I get it. Your parents are rich. So what?”

Zoey wished she could believe in his sudden bravado. But he’d only met Aunt Sophie, the tamest of her family members.

A rap at her window made her glance over.

“No fraternizing,” Aunt Sophie said in a mock-serious tone. “Let’s go. Khalid and the others will bring in our stuff. Khalid, remember Zoey?” She opened Zoey’s door and gestured for the young couple to exit.

“Ah, of course now,” the young man from inside replied. “No be small thing, our little madam don reach home. Little Madam, you’re welcome o.”

Zoey smiled gently, accepting the warm greeting of her father’s long-time chauffeur. The headlights illuminated his face, revealing the deep markings on his cheeks and his dark lips. At least some things stayed the same. “Thanks Khalid.” She scooted out of the car and stepped to the side so Eli could exit also.

“She’s not so little anymore,” Aunty Sophie corrected fondly, tucking an arm under Zoey’s and tugging her toward the gate. “Khalid, this is Zoey’s friend from America.”

Zoey glanced over her shoulder as Khalid greeted Eli warmly. She smiled, grateful for at least one welcoming response. Hopefully, Nwando was waiting for them inside. She dug on her heels, waiting for Eli who trailed behind Khalid toward the trunk of the SUV.

Aunty Sophie clucked her tongue. “Eli, leave the bags. They’ll get it.” She then pulled Zoey forward. “You two better leave that independent we-can-do-everything-for-ourselves stuff out here. Don’t give your mom’s sisters reasons to talk. Especially Aunty Nneoma.”

Aunty Nneoma was Paula’s mother and a constant source of annoyance for her mother. The two, since childhood, had always found reasons to fight about any and everything. Even in their mid-fifties, they still argued like enemies and competed about everything possible. No doubt Aunty Nneoma would tease about Zoey taking over the housemaids’ duties.

Zoey tamped a sigh and a groan. Maybe coming home wasn’t one of her great ideas.

“Zoey, you and Eli go inside first. Just remembered something.” She nudged Eli forward and hurried back to Cyrus’ side. “Hey, Khalid, one sec!”

Reaching for and clutching Eli’s hand, Zoey led the way to the front door of a house she didn’t recognize–a house most likely rebuilt to fulfill her mother’s obsession of one-upping her younger sister.

Laughter and music could be heard on the other side of the door. Zoey drew in a breath and released it slowly.

Eli squeezed her hand and in that brief moment, Zoey knew she had her answer. Eli was with her, no matter what stood on the other side of the door. Even with his warranted reluctance, he was here and would be here even till the end of the trip.

She looked up at him with a smile, grateful he was here.

The door flung open. “Finally!” A beaming Nwando, dressed in colorful native, stood on the other side. “Get in here!”

Zoey and Eli were ushered inside, and Nwando shut the door. “Aunty, Uncle!” she bellowed over the party noise. She then grabbed Zoey’s hand from Eli’s, breaking the hold. “Zoey’s home!”

Zoey felt herself being dragged away from Eli and towards the living room where her family awaited her arrival. She glanced over her shoulder to where Eli stood by the door. “Nwa–”

“I got him,” Nwando interjected, nudging her forward. “Your folks are here to see you first and foremost. Right now’s not the time to introduce your American boyfriend. Stealing Aunty Nneoma’s spotlight is not advisable.”

Zoey sighed. She didn’t want to delay the meeting between Eli and her parents, but knew that this wasn’t quite the time for family introductions. Her gaze swept over Nwando’s face. “What would I do without you?”

“Very little,” Nwando winked. “Don’t worry, he’ll mingle with the other hundred guests in the room. Paula’s uni friends are here too. There’s one oyinbo girl your brother’s been eying since morning. Go hug your mom, she’s not been happy about any of this. I’ll go get Lover boy.” She laughed and turned away to retrieve Eli.

Zoey watched Nwando go, wishing she could go with her.

“Is that my Zobo baby?”

Zoey plastered a smile on her face and turned to greet the woman dressed extravagantly. “Aunty Nneoma. Congratulations–!” She grunted as her mother’s younger sister enveloped her into a bear hug.

“Nawa o,” her aunty sing-songed, drawing back to inspect her niece from head to toe. Her painted brows furrowed. “What’s going on, are you losing weight?”

Zoey refrained from rolling her eyes. Her clothes from before she left Nigeria still fit perfectly. “No Aunty. I still look the same.”

“Look at you, all skin and bones.” Aunty Nneoma clucked her tongue in disapproval, hands squeezing Zoey’s arms. “Enh-heh, I would’ve thought America would fatten you up small. Welcome home, my darling!” Draping an arm around Zoey’s shoulders, she led her around the partition wall to the living room.

“Thank you, Aunty—!” Zoey drew in a breath as she took in the scene before her. There were people everywhere, everyone dressed in their best native attire. The living room stretched almost six feet south, with extravagant furnishings and even two sparkling golden chandeliers on the ceiling. She wanted to ask Aunty Nneoma if this wasn’t her home instead, but didn’t have a chance to.

“Zoey’s home!” Aunty Nneoma announced above the lounge music playing, and all eyes faced the front. They all cheered at once, some she knew well—cousins and even old classmates she hadn’t seen since primary school—rushing forward to greet her. It seemed her parents had invited everyone they’d ever known to her cousin’s wedding festivities. And all she could think about, in the midst of all the cheering and overly-enthusiastic greetings, was Eli being overwhelmed by it all.

Around the corner, Eli and Nwando stood witnessing the extravagance of Zoey’s welcome and the grand display of wealth in one scene.

Nwando then placed a hand on Eli’s shoulder, drawing his attention to her. She smiled a gentle smile that held some sympathy. “Welcome to Nigeria, our boyfriend.”

Eli would’ve laughed if not the butterflies waging war in his stomach.

<<Chapter 7 || Chapter 9>>

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Refuge: Chapter 7

Posted on 15/10/2018

Eli frowned as yet another motorbike squeezed through a small opening between their car and the escort vehicle before them.

Loud and incessant beeping filled the air, distracting him from the playful discourse between Zoey and Aunty Sophie.

He glanced over at the lane to his right and his frown deepened. It was like they had no regard for the white lines separating the lanes. Vehicles jammed on either side with cars weaving recklessly in tight spaces, the traffic unlike rush-hour in any big city.

He could imagine Bart’s vocabulary becoming more colorful if he’d been in the driver’s seat.

Cyrus sat back with one hand draped over the wheel. The man seemed content with the inconvenience around him, a bemused expression on his face while he listened in on the conversation.

Eli peered at the front and swallowed a groan; the traffic seemed to stretch for miles with no relief in sight. He shook his head and sat back in his seat.

How could a city get anything done when residents were stuck in traffic this long? Was there no reliable public transportation? Just how many people lived in Lagos? Didn’t rich people have access to helicopters?

“So Eli,” Aunty Sophie’s voice pushed through his thoughts.

He blinked out of his reverie and raised both brows. “Hmm?”

Zoey nudged his knee with hers.

He glanced her way. “What?”

Aunty Sophie chuckled, turning in her seat to look at him. “Leave him, Zo. Eli, have you traveled out of the U.S. before?”

Eli nodded, sitting up in his chair. “Ethiopia, summer trip.” His lips twitched, recalling his time visiting his immediate older brother.

“Oh really? That’s one place I need to visit. Addis Ababa?”

“Not really. My brother works in a remote village, so we rarely visited the main city. But I had a great time.”

Aunty Sophia smirked. “Living in a village was a very different experience for you, wasn’t it?”

“Loved every minute of it, can’t wait to go back.”

She nodded. “What do you think of Lagos so far?”

Eli could feel all eyes on him, including Cyrus’ from the rearview mirror. He paused briefly before responding. “It’s hot.”

Aunty Sophie laughed. “But I hear Houston is hotter. Isn’t it?”

“The humidity makes it so.” Eli shrugged. “And there are a lot of people here.”

“21 billion, according to Google,” Aunty Sophia answered with pride in her voice. “Lagos would be such a beautiful and efficient place if we weren’t so overpopulated.”

“Is that our only problem? Traffic is as unbearable as I remembered,” Zoey drawled, sitting back in her seat. Her shoulder brushed Eli’s, and she glanced up at him with a smile. “Crazy drivers, right?”

“You would think that with the amount of sheer talent and raw resources, we’d be able to build better infrastructure.”

“Wasn’t it like that in the sixties though?” Zoey asked, leaning into Eli. “I remember looking through Daddy’s pictures of Lagos back then. Looked way better–”

“With the billions struggling for a taste of the urban life,” Cyrus interjected. “And the countless political turbulences we have travailed through, can anything we once had survive?”

Silence stretched inside the car in the wake of Cyrus’ words. Eli stared at the man’s profile, noting the tightness of his jawline.

Aunty Sophie patted Cyrus’ shoulder. “It’s alright…”

He glanced her way and the furrow in his brow eased up. “Did I get carried away again?”

“It’s okay, Baby,” she said gently, her fingers stroking his arm.

Zoey glanced once at Eli who looked her way and made a face. “They’re gross, aren’t they?”

He smirked, wanting to remind her of his siblings with their mates. Especially Abe and Phoebe, who after three children; the eldest just turned 20, still acted like newlyweds. His smirk faded as he recalled the last conversation he had with Abe before the flight. It was reminiscent of the night before he left for Ethiopia.

His smirk faded as he recalled the last conversation he had with Abe before the flight. It was reminiscent of the night before he left for Ethiopia.

Abe had paced the study that night while Eli sat in the chair, both waiting it out in silence for what seemed like forever.

Eli tried being patient with his eldest brother, minding Phoebe’s caution that Abe was only worried about his safety and struggled not to stifle his growth. Yet, Abe wanted him to stay the six-year-old sickly kid and not the healthy and capable twenty-four-year old man he needed to be.

A nudge at his side drew him from his thoughts and he caught Zoey’s eye. “Hmm?”

“Where’d you go?”

Eli shook his head. “Nowhere.”

Aunty Sophie’s boisterous laugh filled the car, drawing both their attention to her gap-toothed smile. “You’re just like my Cyrus, a dreamer. So what do you do for a living, Eli?”

Eli begged to differ but shrugged, choosing to answer the question addressed to him. “I’m a web developer…” He could’ve sworn Aunty Sophie’s smile dimmed a smidge.

“He’s pretty good,” Zoey insisted a bit too firmly. “He’s currently developing a social networking app.”

“That’s nice.” Aunty Sophie’s smile barely reached her eyes. “Did you go to one of those technology universities to learn. MIT, is it?”

“Uh, no,” Eli answered, noting Cyrus’ stare directed at him from the rearview mirror. “I’m self-taught.”

“Self-taught,” Aunty Sophie echoed, a furrow appearing between her brow. “Wait… you did go to college, right?”

“Oh come on, Aunty,” Zoey intercepted before Eli could respond. “You know good and well not everyone needs to go to college. Bill Gates and Steve Jobs didn’t, and look what they created.”

“He’s a white man,” Cyrus answered with a laugh in his voice.

“So? How is that relevant?”

Eli glanced her way, surprised by the ice in her voice.

“Mind your tone, young lady,” Aunty Sophie turned stern as her expression. Her gaze shifted back to him. “Well Eli, are you the next Steve Jobs?”

Eli stared without blinking. “No Ma’am.”

“You don’t know that, E.” Zoey shifted to face him. “You’re incredibly talented.”

“There are many talented youths in our country, Zoey,” Cyrus countered. “That doesn’t change anything about how they are perceived and how they perceive themselves in this society. Only a few of them will break out and create something life-changing. The same can be said of your America. Especially for your guy. Genius or not, a high-school education is rarely enough.”

Aunty Sophie’s gaze narrowed, a silent warning to her niece to stand down. Zoey huffed and sat back in her chair, arms folded.

Without her saying anything else, Eli could tell any admiration she’d once held for Cyrus was no longer there.

Zoey disliked Cyrus and couldn’t help the scowl on her face. She didn’t care if Aunty was disappointed about her feelings towards her boyfriend. He was the worst type of guy; a haughty, pessimistic know-it-all, like most older Nigerian men.

Except her father. Daddy was principled and stern but he wasn’t close-minded like this man. She wondered what Daddy thought of Cyrus and couldn’t wait to bad-mouth him the minute she got home.

“You may not like what we’re saying, Zo,” Aunty Sophie’s gentle tone pervaded her thoughts. “If we progressives are concerned, imagine what your very traditional parents will say.”

“Dad isn’t traditional at all.”

Aunty Sophie scoffed. “I think I know my own brother.”

“Anyway, Mom’s too busy trying to marry me off to care what he does.” Eli glanced her way and she shrugged. “I’m her only daughter and she’s already giving me a hard time about Paula.”

“Even more reason why she’ll be extremely critical about Eli,” Aunty Sophie countered. “We’re simply preparing you for the round of interrogations you’re going to experience.”

Zoey barely fought an eye roll. “I’m really surprised, Aunty. I thought of all my family members that you’d be the most understanding.” She eyed Cyrus warily, knowing he was the reason for this undesired change in her favorite aunt.

“I do understand, dear. You know I’m the first one to advocate for the youths but the mindset of the elders…” She shook her head. “It’s not easily altered. They want doctors and lawyers and engineers as the world-changers. Techies, as they call them, are simply lazy and looking for an easy way out.”

Eli’s shoulder tensed against her arm and Zoey scowled. “So Steve Jobs was a lazy man looking for an out?”

“Zoey, Jobs was a white man,” Cyrus replied in his annoyingly-haughty tone. “You can never compare him to them. Their experience will always be different from the black man. Especially the African man.”

“Yeah well, Eli’s only half-black.” She cringed the minute it left her mouth and glanced Eli’s way.

Eli sat silently, face void of emotion. Zoey knew she’d messed up big time. He hated more than anything to be identified as a half-anything; half-black, half-Teka, half-independent…

Aunty Sophie sighed deeply, pulling Zoey’s attention to her. Pity and a touch of concern etched her features. “Zoey, you better find a better way to introduce your boyfriend to your folks or they’ll eat him alive.” She glanced once more at Eli before turning about in her seat.

Eli shifted his face to look out the window.

Zoey sat back in silence, all the while regretting asking Aunty Sophie to pick them up instead of chancing it with a hired car. She’d hoped for an ally but suddenly felt very alone and on edge.

<<Chapter 6 || Chapter 8>>

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