He started calling. Karl’s father. At the most annoying times. Uncle T had given him Karl’s number when he never made that promised call. Whatever happened in that one hour after Adebanjo finally reappeared, surely it couldn’t be so bad that it kept father and son apart? Uncle T didn’t think so. Couldn’t imagine it. And now Adebanjo flung himself all the way into project reuniting with and getting to know Karl. After the event. After when he should have been there. At the airport for starters. Then in his own house in Port Harcourt. Around. For Karl. Instead of pretending he had disappeared. It was difficult to be excited when Karl knew the only reason he had been MIA was to avoid him. It made it harder even to have any faith into this being more than a random thing. Adebanjo was just feeling guilty for having wasted everyone’s time, as far as Karl was concerned.
Karl booked a table at the pizza place in the Brunswick centre for Abu’s birthday. A whole table just for them, Nalini and Afsana, the families. Reserved and everything.
‘Did it in case,’ Karl said. There was no ‘in case’ really; it just made it all proper dining.
‘Table for ten? Abu, right? Please come with me. It’s right there. And a happy birthday to you.’
Abu was pleased, all smiles. Then to triumph the whole thing the waiter added: ‘Sir.’
Eighteen promised to be big. Bigger than anything before. As for the party: they could always plan a proper one another time. Or go to the movies or stuff.
Godfrey stopped by and Rebecca and Abu’s parents, twins in tow. Just for a minute, to share a soft drink and give some presents. Let the youngsters do their thing. They could always celebrate another time, now that Abu was back. Karl was back.
Then Karl’s father called. Annoyed the hell out of him, which got his mother alert now, wondering what put Karl on edge like that when he was all smiles and giddiness just a second before. So far Karl avoided telling her the details. The counsellor had said, ‘A step at a time’.
Karl left the restaurant and stood in the plaza surrounded by shops, flats above, hanging over the whole thing, fanning out so that the lowest were the most in, the highest further back, so everyone got some light. All of it was supposed to be some good inner city space, and just a few years earlier, had been nothing at all. You know how it is: nothing but some ugly architecture, almost abandoned, but now all poshed up. There was even a water feature that usually had no water, but when it did, and if the sun was also out … you can imagine. London can be like that sometimes: convincing. Telling you that nothing at all was wrong with this place, that in fact it was proper beautiful.
Karl sat on the concrete edge of the waterless water feature. He could still see the others inside. Abu shining from his eyes, the same way his clothes stood out. Every other minute glancing at Nalini who was all chatterbox again, head thrown back when laughing, her hair falling down her back. Abu was watching her every move from the corner of his eye.
‘I don’t think you have to do anything man. Just keep talking to her.’ He had told his best friend the night before. ‘I’m not sure why, but you seem to be doing this thing right, very right. Just be yourself. For some very strange reason she’s crazy ’bout you.’
Abu had thrown the pillow. ‘It’s called being irresistible.’
Karl had no idea. How right he was doing things with Nalini. They hadn’t had time to speak.
Nalini brought a present. A belt that was not from some brand but that would still stick out and more importantly, match Abu’s shirts. She was making a point about the riots, about the things that were taken. How people had loaded up on branded clothes. They talked about it the other day, Nalini all intense. ‘I don’t care about the big shops, I get that, but Abu don’t tell me that it was just about some big chain. It wasn’t! Some neighbourhoods were proper mashed up. It could be one of us, you know, I mean some of the shop owners. Your older brother or something, trying to make it.’
But Abu had done some thinking too. ‘Yes, true. But still.’
‘Still what?’
‘Things are wrong, Nalini. People were just showing how wrong. You don’t always get to go to the boss, innit. You don’t even get close to where the real shit is sometimes. You just get angry when you are angry, wherever that is. But that doesn’t mean Tottenham wasn’t real. Some people were really about that Duggan guy.’
Nalini had been quiet. ‘OK, fine. I see your point. When you put it all together.’
‘It’s too many things to say it was about this and that because it was too many people, you get me.’
You didn’t need no bloody riot to have some nice things. That was Nalini’s point. Abu agreed. But maybe you needed a riot to show how fucked up the country was. How pissed off people were about it. Even if there were some who didn’t even care about that, but just cared about themselves. You could find those anywhere. Abu felt all mushy when he put the belt back into its box.
There was another side to all of it. The small picture that was so big it hurt sometimes. It was so huge you couldn’t see all of it; the showing up, the being there for your inner circle. The making that happen.
loyalty /ˈlɔɪəlti/
noun
Adebanjo was going on about how he wished to have a conversation, a really proper one. Revisit what they hadn’t been able to finish when Karl rushed off. Karl mmm’ed his way through. Not today. No way. And he thought of how he had not rushed off at all but had been there much longer than was good for his relations here. Too bad life couldn’t wait for everybody to sort out their stuff. How it was always when it was too late that the penny dropped.
Luckily he, Abu and Godfrey, his mother and all had other chances. He wasn’t so sure about the man on the other end of the line. One thing was for sure: he loved the sound of his own voice. Loved the way the authority dropped in it, heavy, like it just laid down the earth itself. He seemed like a guy who told, not asked.
Abu, still at the table inside, was raising his shoulder, and giving him his what the eff? look. Karl shrugged and promised the stranger on the phone he would call back the following day. It had been seventeen years without a father. A few weeks of his existence and Karl decided this chapter was better closed.
He slid the mobile in his pocket and walked back into the restaurant, sat beside Abu, handed him the smart shirt and sparkly bracelet he’d bought, with a little help from Godfrey and Rebecca. The thin leather band held pretend-diamond sparkle blobs, small and round. The adults, the older ones, left, taking the twins with them. They all trailed down the stairs, past the old-fashioned cinema, down to the street that led back to their flats.
The youngsters stayed, chatting, totally old skool; although the gadgets were displayed all over the table, the grinning and sharing was like, face-to-face, until it was time to call it a night.
Abu received a few more texts. More threatening, more specific in what and how they would, could, and wanted to do him in. He kept them all. CCTV, GPS, all that sort of stuff could tell the location. It could tell the same story the texts were trying to deflect. There was no need to overreact. You just had to wait and see. Karl was still trying to get him to call the police.
‘If you know they can’t get you ’cause you got stuff on them, why not get it over and done with?’
Why not? Because Abu turned eighteen a few days ago. ‘New and improved version, innit. Not taking threats any more. That was before. Now there is standing my ground. Wear them out. Let them come.’
Karl figured he always stood his ground and said so. That he was usually talking too much while doing so.
‘That’s what I’m saying. Gonna be different now. Anyone coming to threaten me, I’ll give a piece of my mind. I’ll do it when the time is right, innit. No rush.’
Godfrey was trying hard to get back into Karl’s good books.
‘I was wrong. I know it. It wasn’t just outing you, I swear. It was about your safety.’
Karl was like I swear? You got to be kidding me and not convinced. That sort of intel, personal one, was never disclosed, unless there was explicit permission. Godfrey didn’t have that and couldn’t get out of it now, after the event. He could have asked; he could have just discussed it with Karl. There had been no need for a clandestine affair. Godfrey countered, ‘But you wanted to keep the whole thing a secret,’ and lost Karl again. Nothing but side-eye in response.
He started pressing Karl to deal with it already. ‘Call your father. First you blackmail me to let you go and now you can’t have one conversation with him?’
Karl following Abu’s lead. No need to show any fear if you got none.
‘Not calling, simple as that. As soon as I have something to say, I will. Until then, I’ll handle my own things. And while we’re at it, don’t ever chat my business to anyone again without asking.’
He and Abu had fallen back into twin mode like sales after Christmas: straight away.
‘Do you have some time, mum?’
‘What is it, Karl?’
‘I want to talk to you about Nigeria. Why I went, I mean, why I really went.’
‘Good,’ she replied. And meant it. ‘Good that you are finally ready.’
Karl came in from a morning jog. He now called it that. Running was for avoiders. ‘To let you know which one is which.’
Abu laughed. Who cared, like really? As long as you arrived somewhere you wanted to be, right? And if not? Well at least you got out of the house, fresh air and everything.
‘Just going to jump into the shower.’
The water washed away the sweat that pooled on his back, at the neck and much lower, where his shorts started. He turned the tap to cool and held his face up. The pressure was strong enough to make his face tingle. He could feel the drops pushing out of the showerhead, collecting on his skin, sliding down the rest of his body.
What to say today? About fathers and mothers. About how life was. All the things they left out and hoped either of them would manage, without explanations.
His father had called four times. Each time Karl came up with excuses. The last one was no credit. Then he tried a trick he heard someone tell another person on the bus once. They both worked for a telephone marketing company but the second person had just started. The one who was there longer gave her friend some sound advice: ‘When they get too rude, and I tell you they will, just put some paper over the receiver and crumple it. Ask in your best voice, “Connection? Hello? Are you still there?” Then you hang up. No need to take shit you’re not getting paid for.’
Abu and Karl had laughed about it, dying to try it out the next opportunity they got but they never did. It worked with his father, he hoped. He didn’t feel like having to explain what the strange noises were. And why he now even hung up, after seeking him out and making all that effort. Everyone needed time to process. Now Karl did. Something like that, if his father cared at all for such on-point conversation.
He soaped his body from top to bottom, carefully leaning against the tiled wall, raising one foot to spread the toes and wash. Couldn’t hurt to give it an extra scrub. Abu and his new wisdom gave his own advice right back. ‘Just be Karl.’ The soap ran through the outlet in the enamel and he turned the water off.
His mother waited in the living room. It was a little more cramped since they had re-arranged the flat. Godfrey was still due to come through with his promise of painting their ‘what do you call it – crib?’ He needed a language upgrade, urgently. It was too much trying to fit in.
‘Some juice?’
‘Thanks.’
He sat on the armchair facing the coffee table and the three-seater that was so small that Karl kept wondering if it had meant three-in-one, rather than for three people: you in the middle, bag on the left, phone on the right, full. They were opposite each other, Rebecca and Karl.
‘I guess there are many things we haven’t talked about.’
‘I know you’re trying your best. I ain’t complaining.’
‘No, let me finish. Nobody knew how badly or how quickly I would become ill. I didn’t, my parents didn’t. You tumble into it and react in the heat of the moment. You don’t always make the right decisions.’
She was looking for the words, the ones she had tried to keep from Karl for all his life.
‘I wanted to protect you.’
Wasn’t it always about that? Protecting someone you loved because if you didn’t you might see the pain in their eyes and that could break your heart, like proper.
‘And now?’
‘What do you mean, Karl?’
‘How come you’re telling me now?’
‘You found out more than you should by yourself.’
‘More than … I think—’
‘Karl, I just mean, I should have been the one to tell you. I let you go all the way to Nigeria.’
‘You didn’t know.’
She was quiet. The evenness in the air smelled fishy. Like when you’ve been made a fool.
‘You knew all along.’
‘What are you talking about, Karl?’
‘Nigeria. You just said you let me go. So, you knew. Godfrey probably told you and you both thought I needed this so I can gain independence and find my own way.’
‘Not at all.’
‘Then what?’
Karl stretched his feet, flexing his toes. The tan lines were still visible, showing clearly where the flip-flops had been, where the sun had warmed his feet.
‘I meant in the scheme of things, Karl. It had to come to you going off because I didn’t tell you the things you needed to know.’
She got his attention.
‘The things you deserve to know.’
‘He didn’t even know I existed!’
It burst out. Just be yourself, whatever that means, whatever that would be. Rebecca looked at him, carefully examining his face.
‘He keeps calling. First he wanted nothing to do with me, when I wasn’t the daughter he was now expecting. Now he can’t stop wanting to “get to know me and learn more”. Whatever. ’Cause his wife has a little more sense and made him come back to see me. But I’m not interested any more. I just want my peace back.’
‘Well, you went to seek him out. It also means something to him.’
‘Why didn’t you tell him you were pregnant? Why didn’t you tell me anything about him?’
The questions. The answers. The sense that sometimes eludes them. The forgiveness one must ask for.
‘I thought it would be easier. You were unplanned. A lucky accident. The best part of my short relationship with him.’
‘What’s so awful about him that you couldn’t tell him, or me?’
‘Nothing.’
She looked down at the worn carpet, then out the window. There wasn’t anything to see there. Nothing to latch on to.
‘It’s complicated.’
‘You’re not a Facebook status!’
He vowed that he would be calm, would not let feelings run away. Just find out how it had all happened. He had been surprised that she hadn’t been more outraged at his disappearance. The therapy sessions, yes, but they seemed to ‘break through’ in no time.
‘Why don’t you tell me about meeting him?’
Then what?
‘I already did. I arrived, he saw me after some disappearing act, then didn’t like the look of my gender and told me to eff off in other, more carefully chosen words. That’s it.’
He deserved to make his own decisions, to ask the questions he now knew his mother had been lying about. There wasn’t anything his father had done to match that. He didn’t matter.
‘And now?’
‘Mum, I don’t think it’s fair. Why?’
‘Karl, sometimes you are young and stupid and—’
‘For starters, you never told me about Nigeria. That you went there.’
‘It wasn’t short! You volunteered for months. And the only way I know is because Uncle T told me. You never even thought it was important for me to know.’
Her eyes were tired, weary. Not as pain-filled as usual, when she was losing her energy. It felt like Karl was the parent, the one asking questions while the teenager avoided eye contact, answers, anything that made real sense. Her foot scraped along the carpet, tracing its tiny patterns with her toes. Her skin glowed.
Karl was impatient.
‘How come we don’t speak about this?’
They both knew it. Stress triggered relapses. Karl had taken that on. Like proper. As in way over the top. She would break, he thought, so he ran longer and faster until the choking stopped and he could breathe again. But he no longer ran, he no longer left things behind to shut them out. He stayed now. In therapy they talked about the network. The ‘who called the shots, made decisions’, Karl-wise. They had talked about that Godfrey had taken liberties. Rebecca was still the mum, whether she had a depression from time to time or not. That depression didn’t mean she couldn’t be there for Karl. It had never meant that.
‘Nobody ever asks what I want. Not properly. Not even you.’
‘I ask all the time.’
‘Mum.’ Karl was calm again. ‘Really?’
It was quiet. You couldn’t say everything in one go but it still had to come out. Sometime.
‘There was nowhere to breathe here for me. Yes, all of you are very understanding. Abu is like the best. Ever. Like ever ever. His family … I would die for them. They have done so much. The lot. Godfrey … But where am I? Where am I in all of this, really?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘There is no wholeness. Nowhere I really am. With all of you I am the problem that needs to be taken care of, that needs to be protected. On the streets, I am the freak. I was not here. I didn’t exist.’
His mother’s mouth was open but her eyes were looking into nothingness. Not at him, not at anything in particular. She was ready to avoid this, deflect from the words that made a lot of sense.
‘You don’t really have the space for all that’s going on in my life. Or maybe I think you don’t. I run so I don’t have to scream, so I don’t say things that will upset anyone. So I don’t say: I want to know. What it’s like to be me. What it’s like to be a young man. Without the baggage, without a helping hand that makes sure I land soft because surely someone will trip me up. I want to know those things. What it’s like to not take care of you—’
‘I never asked you to—’
‘I know that. But I do it anyway. How do you think it is to see your mother in pain? Like all the time. How do you go and say Hey, I think it’s time we move on up and bring in a bit more normality into the mix. Not just support groups and support people and support whatever. Just a young person who is going to be a man. Let us find out who that is. Not, he was always so sensitive but he’s making it anyway.’
‘We can do that—’
‘We will do that! I need it. I don’t need you or anyone to protect me from things by keeping them away. All I need is to know that you are with me. That I can trust you. That I can talk to you and get an answer when I need to.’
Her eyes were starting to focus again. Karl was catching up with his breath. It had been calm, or at least calm-ish, his outburst. Still, that was a whole lot of getting it out.
‘You were always smart.’
‘But?’
‘No but. It’s just that you’re even clearer now.’
‘I stayed in Nigeria, I stayed longer because I was being myself. I wasn’t a problem. I could see who I was, from the outside. Because other people saw me for who I was, not how hard I had fought to get there.’
The how to say everything and find the right words, the right sentiments.
‘I think I understand.’ She stopped. Her chest was moving up and down quick now. ‘You don’t deserve to see how I struggle sometimes. Just to be free of the heaviness that consumes me in those times. Not often, but when it gets that bad I’m knocked out. I didn’t know how to keep that from you.’
The flat was breathing now too, they could hear the fridge humming in the kitchen.
She looked up.
‘Don’t pretend it’s not there. It doesn’t make it any better. Or easier. Not for me.’
Karl’s pocket lit up. The sound made them both jumpy. ‘Just my phone.’ He looked at Rebecca. Her body had relaxed, her shoulders were easing down. Karl’s eyes brightened.
‘A friend of yours?’
‘What?’
Janoma texted that Nakale’s aunt had agreed. She might even be OK with Janoma spending some time with her ‘study mate’.
‘Perfect.’ Karl looked up. ‘What did you say?’
‘Oh, you just seem so happy. Is this a friend of yours?’
He looked at his mother.
‘You seem to have grown estranged,’ the therapist had said. There had been major sobs at that point, as you can imagine. ‘Maybe you just have to restart from zero?’
Those lovely insightful declarations. Where were they now? At a hundred? A hundred and five? At sixteen? That was the problem with categories: how to fill them.
‘My girlfriend, mum. I met somebody in Nigeria. She is coming to London for a visit. With Uncle T. She studies textiles and fashion so she can help him out.’
It was out, in one go.
‘OK, wow, that’s a lot.’
His mother’s bafflement matched his excitement. Both were well beyond hundred and twenty.
‘Where would she stay?’
‘In my room? She has an aunt here so she’ll probably be there most of the time. But if she lets her, can she stay here?’
The phone buzzed again. call me asap. Developments … Abu.
‘Yes?’ He looked at his mother. He needed to make phone calls.
‘This is all a bit quick. How old is she?’
‘Nineteen.’
‘We’ll talk about it more but in principle it is OK. I want to speak to her parents though, and her aunt when she’s here.’
The kiss landed on her face as the arms wrapped around her neck.
Her smile was weak, like in, totally caught off-guard. Karl’s fingers were typing replies already. He was walking to the hallway.
‘Karl, I didn’t know what to do. Your father, he just changed so quickly. Tunde had warned me.’ It wasn’t a happy soul-bearing; it was laboured. Every word had to be forced out. ‘I had much more in common with him. Tunde. We ended up spending much more time together.’
Karl nearly fell over as he changed direction. He had almost made it out of the room but life didn’t always wait until you were safe on the other side.
‘Not like that.’
There was cement in the air. It wanted to crush you. But Karl pushed back.
‘Tunde wanted but I said no. Chose your father but he seemed to forget about me the minute I left. I didn’t think he would stick around for you. I didn’t want him to disappear on you. He was supposed to come for me in London. I called and called, never got a hold of him. He let Tunde make excuses. Finally he confessed that your father had moved on. Straight away. Met his wife. Her family were well off; they had opportunities for him. I don’t know if it was that, or if it was just one of those things. We were young.’ She laughed. ‘Everyone wants opportunities. I had none. I was a working class girl. Ran away from my family to some country in West Africa they had never heard of. And I had taken it all so serious.’
The sun was hitting through the closed window, warming the room up.
‘I just fell pregnant. Totally unexpected. I was embarrassed, Karl. That your father wasn’t reliable. That I had fallen for it. That Tunde had been right.’