‘What does he want?’
‘I think he just wants to know you. Call him.’
‘Godfrey, I’m not all that bothered. I’ve had enough bonding problems lately. Gonna stick to what I know.’
‘And what is that? What about Abu? All seems to be different. And that girl—’
‘Woman! Young woman, please. And that is exactly what I’m talking about. Things are different. And my priorities are fucking intact. You have no idea. The father isn’t one of them.’
Godfrey turned quiet. He sat on Karl’s bed. Karl looked at him. Godfrey looked at his shoes. The afternoon was fading quickly. The right and wrong things. The eighteen years of age. The getting used to not having to be the meddler. Of adulthood. Independence. The knowing your place. Which sometimes was stepping back. Like, way back.
‘Understood.’
Karl called Uncle T. They chatted like they used to. Catching up on Abu and Rebecca. On London. But then he went all Game Over, come clean already.
‘Karl, you still haven’t told me what happened with your father. He has been trying to call you. You have to speak to him.’
‘Yes, Uncle. I will call him back. I have been busy.’
When he called John, he filled him in on all the latest developments. Rose was crawling now. Karl promised to call again soon.
He had things to do. Nakale was devising the details of the master plan. Janoma was to follow Uncle T on his next business trip to Italy. Gain first-hand experience in buying. You had to do buying when you did fashion. You did. Surely the parents would understand that. See how indispensable such an experience was. Italy. Fashion capital! But also, she could buy some things for the shop. Uncle T had already mentioned he needed an assistant. He was so busy these days Karl didn’t think it would take a minute to convince him. Janoma was a model student after all. Shopkeeper. Only Italy wasn’t London. How to get her there?
‘I have an aunt in London. I dey try eh.’
Karl could almost see Nakale’s ear pressed into the phone in the crammed booth. Maybe Emmanuel was hanging about, trying not to cause any trouble. It was shit being so far away.
‘My friend wetin you go do with Janoma?’
‘What do you mean?’
Nakale sounded puzzled. His voice didn’t drop, it stayed level, as if it had nowhere to go.
‘Wetin you wan do? She will return to Nigeria after small time.’
Everyone and their bloody planning. He couldn’t escape it. If they could just, like, leave him to it for a minute. Could a brother not get a bloody minute?
‘I just want to see her.’ Pause. ‘I thought she really wanted to see me, too.’
Nakale’s laugh sounded resigned. ‘My bruv. No dey worry yourself. She dey do. Only this going to London … De whole thing, na be harder like dis.’
Karl sighed. ‘It’s already hard.’
‘Hey.’
Abu was lying on his bed, perfectly groomed.
‘Hey. Are you going out to see Nalini? Was just coming for my headphones. I left them here.’
‘No, just lying here.’
‘Can I sit?’
‘Why so formal, man?’
‘Why so formal? Cause you ain’t speaking to me.’
‘I ain’t what?’
‘You’re not speaking to me. Abu—’
‘I’m speaking to no one, in case you haven’t noticed. Pay some attention, mate. I thought you had my back.’
Karl smiled. Something was giving. He could feel it.
‘I do.’
‘Then give me a fucking break.’
And Karl went for his headphones, which had slid under Abu’s bed. Dust was stuck to the padded parts. He brushed it off.
‘Hey, want to stay at mine to mix things up? Mum and me changed the rooms around. I got the bigger one, am out of the cupboard.’
‘What? How did that happen?’ Abu sat up, automatically smoothing his trousers. The beige stuck out against the navy-patterned duvet cover.
‘Side effect. All the talking we’ve been doing.’ Karl stood in the middle of the room.
‘No way. She really just changed it?’
‘Yes. I didn’t really want it at first. Why, you know? Mum needs her space too. But I’m trying to get that woman to come here. The one I met in Nigeria. I told you. Janoma.’
‘And your mum swapped rooms with you so you two could have space to fool around? Wow, my man, my man, you have got things—’
‘No, she doesn’t know yet. I still have to ask her. But you have to be prepared.’ He laughed.
‘Does that mean you’ll no longer be here?’
‘Depends on you.’
‘Just ’cause I nearly died doesn’t mean you have to act like I left you.’
‘Not bitter at all then.’ He didn’t laugh. There was nothing to laugh about.
‘Sit down already, skinny arse.’
He sat next to Abu. ‘It’s called “keeping trim”.’
‘It’s called “being knocked out and your friend not being there for you”.’
Karl hugged him from the side. One arm behind Abu’s shoulders, the other in the front, but to reach properly his body would have to come off the bed. He hovered, wanting to step to the side, but Abu’s knees were in the way. It was a bit pathetic. To get to a proper hug he would have to almost climb on Abu. Wasn’t quite what he had in mind.
‘OK, not working the way I thought it would.’
Abu burst out laughing so hard he had to cough.
‘You are a mess, you know.’
‘Just didn’t think sideways hugging would be such hard work.’
And they screamed. Mama Abu knocked on the door.
‘Everything fine?’
She saw them next to each other, laughing, hitting their legs, boxing the sides of each other. Smiled and closed the door gently.
‘Sorry?’ A question.
‘I’m on it. Give me some time. But when your woman is here and you ain’t bringing her …’
‘No way. I’m dying to see what you say. She’s cool and … beautiful.’ He looked at Abu. ‘And she has a quicker mouth than you. You two will leave me behind.’
‘Still catching up, heard the doctor. But I’d get your dreamy self any time. You’re slow sometimes you know. Smart, but slow.’
‘I just need my time.’
‘Sometimes others need yours too, bruv.’
‘I said sorry.’
‘Not quite the same as listening to what I have to say, innit?’
Abu put his arm around Karl’s shoulder.
‘Simples. You just do the arm. No need to go for the whole body invasion. See? No problem whatsoever. You’re slow man. Like I just said.’
Karl smiled. ‘So Nalini …’
‘Man, we need to talk.’
‘That’s what I’m saying. Mum is waiting, though. I promised to cook dinner with her. Fancy coming, or what exactly did you dress up like that for anyway? Haven’t seen you make an effort since—’
‘Maybe I was waiting for you.’
He jumped off the bed and raked in the bottom of the wardrobe for matching trainers. He found an old pair, behind a few boxes, baby blue, like the crisp shirt he was wearing. Black ash stains were smeared over one side. Some memories. The shock that rings after, long after the brain stops hitting the skull.
‘Karl, it’s not the hospital.’
‘About Pat, mum’s friend?’
‘What do you mean? You made your statement. You told them who it was. You did, right? It’s my mum’s friend!’
‘I know.’ Abu pulled out the trainers. They were the right colour for the combination. He looked at the top, thinking. ‘I sort of told the police. Not all.’
Karl went all major pissed off.
‘Calm down. Not yet. My memory you know, they’re all giving me space anyway.’ He loosened the laces. Those cases …’
‘What cases?’
‘You know, the riot thing. They are going to go down on that hard.’
It was a question. One with a full stop, with a certainty.
‘What you mean ‘on that’?’
‘Where you been? The rioters. People. Anyone they can get. De yout dem, anyone the slightest bit involved, man. Do you pay any attention?’
‘And you were?’
‘Did you read my texts or what? They are going to try to pin something on me.’
And Abu told him about running and the smell of fire in his nostrils, the explosions that didn’t just make good TV, that wasn’t just some abstract reality of some other part of the city but that had burned right in front of him. Had sent a flying piece of burning foam that was probably from the seat on to his trainers. And how now it rubbed a whole lot of wannabees the wrong way.
‘That’s how it all started.’
‘You were there when they burned a car. So what?’
‘What do I know? All I remember was that I was too good for them. You know me; given the wrong bit of opportunity, I just let out a rant. A long one.’
‘And …?’
‘How slow are you? They kicked out my tail lights.’
‘Have you heard from them since?’
Abu chucked him his phone. It landed on the bed. ‘Just go through.’
He sat the trainers on the floor. ‘I was wearing the blue hoodie with these. I hope it done me good service.’
‘What?’
Karl was still fumbling with Abu’s phone.
‘CCTV. From my face making news. You forgot how to get to the bloody text? Give it to me blud, you’re killing me.’ He walked over and opened the first message.
‘You know they still use smoke signals there.’
‘Thought so. At least if it ever kicks off again here you can let me know where you are. Probably not where the action is.’
‘Very funny. So what am I looking for?’
‘Just go through it, you’ll see. It’s pretty entertaining.’
Karl started to read.
‘Ignore Nalini’s messages, OK.’
‘Why spoil all the fun for me, I was looking forward—’
‘Just do it Karl. Start from the back, work yourself to today.’
Wakey wakey.
Karl looked up at Abu. ‘Is this when—’
‘Second day of coma. Of course I didn’t read it then.’
‘Who from?’
‘Unknown number.’
‘I see that, but you have no idea?’
‘Not sure exactly. Probably one of the guys responsible for Pat. Think they’re clever … Trying to pin the whole car thing on me. Police could probably find out who it is in no time. Isn’t there like GPS on these or something? They know I won’t go.’
‘But why not, Abu? I still don’t get it. They almost killed you.’
‘Your answer right there.’
The texts came daily. They weren’t threatening, not in so many words.
Don’t worry bruv wont say anything to anyone just coz u blew up a car. Cctv prob didn’t get you at all
Then there were details of things he had apparently taken. Places he was and how it was nice to catch up, even if the sender didn’t quite agree with vandalism just because everyone else was doing it. Or with stealing. Details of the clothes he was wearing. How he covered up but the photos would probably still be enough to identify him.
There were fifty-four messages. Three a day. Morning, lunch and dinner. Always the same time. Somebody had a lot of time and free texts to hate Abu.
‘You have to report them. It’s just going to go on forever.’
‘I won’t. Go to the newer one. Last week onwards.’
Wow, gr8 girlfriend. Cute! Sure, i’ll keep an eye on her, no probs mate. That’s what i’m here for. My pleasure.
‘You know they’re just bluffing, right? Sounds too much like a TV show.’
‘Not going to the police, Karl. Let’s go and cook with your mother.’
Karl handed him the phone. His friend had decided to get rid of the three and a half hairs that had not made any stubble at all. His haircut was fresh, scissor sharp and recently gelled. He didn’t look at Karl when he took the phone and put it in his trouser pocket. Everything was neat. The outfit, the hair, the room. Only thing that was stalling this whole show of neatness was the way out.
Karl’s mother had started cooking by the time they finally made it to the small flat.
‘I thought you had forgotten me, Karl. Abu, so lovely to see you. How are you?’
‘Thanks, Rebecca. Very good actually.’
He still felt even shyer than usual around her, although since she had motioned for him to leave her and Godfrey to talk alone, she had not shown any sign of anger towards him. Godfrey was responsible, as far as she was concerned, for dragging both Abu and his mother into the whole thing. Knowing full well that they were close. That they would have to lie. It was Godfrey and her who were still working on their relationship. On a more honest new base, as Rebecca said.
‘Glad to hear,’ she replied and smiled. ‘Things are hopefully getting back to a better place now. For all of us.’ And she looked at them, not wanting a reply.
Karl showed Abu his new room. It wasn’t all sorted out yet, just a couple of boxes of his stuff there and the beds exchanged. His mother had moved into the tiny single because she was using the rest of the flat more anyway. And Godfrey was going to help.
‘What do you think?’
‘What do I think? Your mother’s ace.’
Karl beamed and looked around the room. The window faced the street; he liked it that way. His single bed left enough space to walk around if Abu wanted to stay. Or Janoma, if Karl’s mother let her. She might. There were no pregnancies to fear; he had prepared this argument for when the you are too young for this sort of commitment would come.
He didn’t need to move his wardrobe, there was a closet in here that was more than enough. The rectangle room would keep feeling airy, big; somewhere where he could stay. Without the walls closing in. Space for those thoughts. Friends. Rebecca’s tough year had finally turned good patch. The doctors were hopeful it would remain that way for a while. She’d rearranged the whole flat and thrown out things they didn’t need. Made room for their new lives, she said.
Abu sat on the bed. His phone vibrated. ‘Like clockwork, I told you.’
The message on the display was another sorry excuse for a threat.
‘If you don’t go to the police what are you going to do with it, with them?’
Abu shrugged. ‘All your stuff is in those two small boxes?’
‘Some of it is in the closet.’
‘So my birthday is tomorrow.’
‘I know.’ Karl looked at his friend’s clean-shaven face.
‘What should I do?’
‘Whatever you want.’
‘I mean about Nalini.’
They were back in business, all the way. Rebecca was calling from the kitchen.
‘That’s your mum. Seems like dinner time.’
‘You staying here tonight, for a change?’
The phone was still in Abu’s hand, the message in the dark now that the display light had gone off to preserve battery. ‘Let me just check with my mum.’
But it didn’t sound like he called his mother at all when someone answered the phone on the other end.
‘OK, I’m getting bored of it. You want to get me, do it already. You want to tell the police something I ain’t done so you can feel better about what you have, I have one word for you. Four letters: CCTV. Good luck mate!’
Bam.
Hung up, dusted this off his experience board.
He turned to Karl, who stood at the door. It started raining outside. Abu shrugged again.
‘Eighteen tomorrow blud. You’re right. Done with that shit.’
Karl held up his flat palm. Abu walked over, high-fived him. It all came together; you just had to apply yourself. Like one of his teachers didn’t get tired of saying.
After dinner, they laid out a few blankets and extra cushions on the floor. The beige carpet was soft and made up for the mattress that wasn’t there, that hadn’t been bought yet. Karl pushed Abu on to the bed and chucked him some new sheets to lay out.
‘Do you think I’d let a half-dead man sleep on the floor? Besides, I’m used to it.’
And he told him about John’s flat and the thin mattress that had reminded him so much of Abu’s place. Only that there hadn’t been anyone to talk, like, proper talk to. Until Nakale. But that was different too. A learning, a big-brother situation, a getting-to-know-each-other and being at ease, but it wasn’t the same as knowing each other your whole life.
And Abu talked about Nalini and the slavery trail. How he wanted to impress her but didn’t even know why. How he never used college to impress anyone, and Karl said: ‘Because you get bored as soon as the “assignment” is involved.’
‘Innit. But then it wasn’t just for her. I wanted to know. It wasn’t an assignment; it’s real, you know.’
Morning came. They finally fell asleep, heads on crossed arms, both on their stomachs, turned toward each other. The milky sunrise lifted the room into a bright orange before it settled on that nondescript white that hung low over the city on too many occasions.
Karl woke first and snuck out of the room. There was no way they weren’t going to celebrate today. For the both of them.
Abu was born this day, eighteen bloody years ago, and they were tight as ever.