“Faith? Is that you, Faith?”
Glory and Faith were in Bromley buying new clothes to send to Victor now he had finally been authorized to receive them.
She was loading bags of overpriced sportswear into the boot of Faith’s car when someone called out from across the car park. Two women walked up to them. One of them, short with a blunt black bob, was a friend of Faith’s from university.
“Oh, Selina. Long time!” Faith said as she hugged the woman.
Glory continued her task while Faith and Selina exchanged small talk, recounting who they had last seen and when, and what everyone was doing now.
“So what are you up to these days?” Selina asked, passing a glance over the car and Esther and Elijah strapped into the backseat.
“I’m just in ‘mummy mode’ at the moment, looking after my twins, keeping busy,” Faith said with a smile.
“You’re not working?”
“Keeping up with these two is enough work at the moment!” Faith laughed quickly, tapping the roof of her car in a way that Glory thought was unnatural.
“Lucky you. Must be nice to keep things so simple,” Selina said, not with obvious spite but Glory stole a wary glance at her sister all the same.
Faith smiled and let out a hollow laugh. Glory could feel the tension coiling up in her sister’s body and she wanted to rescue Faith from the unpleasant turn the reunion had taken.
“We’re all good to go here,” she said, slamming shut the boot of the car and walking around to the passenger side door.
“Well, let’s not hold you up any longer!” Selina said. “Good to see you, Faith.”
“Yes, take care.”
Faith shut the driver-side door with a little more force than usual. Glory knew that the small success of the morning’s shopping trip would now be overshadowed by this short interaction.
Back at the house Glory made herself useful in the way she knew how. She threw some fish fingers in the oven and whipped up a quick mash for Esther and Elijah. Then she found a few yams and got to work on Faith’s favorite meal, fried yam and grilled fish.
Peeling yam felt like punishment as a child, but now she was older it felt like meditation. She cut the tuber down into slices, then chopped those slices into thick white fingers. She soaked the fingers in cold water, drained them and tossed them in some salt before warming the oil in Faith’s deep fryer.
Glory took the fish fillets she had defrosted in the microwave and basted them in a marinade of spices, oil and fresh lemon juice. She then grilled them until the gray skin of the fish was brown and crisp, and served it alongside the golden chips of yam and fried plantain she had arranged into a little fan. A drizzle of red tomato stew provided the final flourish.
Faith rolled her eyes when she saw the fan of plantain.
“Ten out of ten for presentation,” she said with a sideways smile. “But you know I need more stew than this.”
“I know, but this is the social media version.”
Glory leaned over the plate and snapped a picture before going back to the kitchen and bringing through the saucepan of stew.
Faith was already stacking yam, fish and plantain onto her fork when Glory returned, and soon after Glory had spooned more stew onto her plate, Faith was using the last chunk of yam to mop up its residue. She sat back and sighed in contentment. Glory sat next to her, eating the leftover stew straight from the saucepan.
“Don’t eat it out the pot!” Faith sighed, but Glory ignored her and carried on.
“Do you have any regrets?” Glory asked Faith, licking the back of the serving spoon.
“I regret letting you do that already,” Faith said, trying to snatch the spoon from Glory’s hand. Glory dodged her and shifted along the sofa.
“Serious question. Do you ever look at your life and think, Things weren’t meant to go this way?”
Faith looked pensive.
“There’s always going to be moments when you second guess yourself, but I don’t think I have any regrets.”
“So you’re perfectly happy with the way things are now?” Glory trod carefully, well aware that this could ignite another argument.
“The thing about regret is that it assumes that there could have been a better way for things to turn out. We have to rid ourselves of the delusion that things could have been any different.”
Glory thought for a moment.
“That sounds really deep.”
“Saw it on Pinterest.”
Glory shook her head and laughed, and Faith turned on the TV. When she was on the other side of the world, it was simple moments like this that Glory missed the most. As the self-appointed third parent in the family, Faith could be annoying, bossy and a control freak. But Glory knew that her sister loved her like no one else could, and equally, Glory loved her back. She wanted to say all of this, but she didn’t. She hoped Faith knew it anyway.
“I’ve started seeing someone, by the way,” Glory said.
Faith’s eyes widened and she sat up straight.
“Who? Do I know him?”
“Yeah, he came to Daddy’s funeral. Julian.”
“Julian as in Joy’s little brother?” Faith said, doubtful.
“He’s the same age as you!”
Faith still looked unconvinced.
“Let me see a picture, I didn’t get a good look at him at the funeral.”
Glory flicked through her camera roll until she found a selfie where Julian looked his best. Faith took the phone from her and examined it.
“He’s all right, I suppose, if that’s your thing.”
“If what’s my thing?” Glory asked snatching back her phone.
“A little rough around the edges, tattoos and all that. He looks like he has a silver tooth—oh my days, he reminds me of 50 Cent! You used to fancy 50 Cent didn’t you?!”
Faith poked her sister with a sharply filed nail and Glory began to protest.
“I’m sure I remember you having posters of him on the wall and then Mummy told you to take them down because it was idolatry!” Faith cackled, clapping her hands together, and the twins looked up from their task sorting toys on the floor.
“Does he rap as well? I bet he raps too!” Faith got up from the sofa and began lumbering around in her best impression of a rapper’s swagger.
“Go! Go! Go, Glory! It’s ya birthday!”
Glory shrank back and pulled a cushion over her face.
Elijah got up from the floor and joined his mother in her prancing, bouncing up and down and windmilling his arms. Esther watched them for a moment before joining in, spinning on the spot.
The doorbell rang and Faith stopped dancing to go and answer it. Esther and Elijah paused mid move, watching their mother leave the room and return with a young woman in a headwrap and lots of colorful jewelry.
“Estie, go upstairs and tell Daddy that the tailor is here please.”
“No, I wanna do it!” Elijah yelped, leaping up and racing his sister from the room.
Faith showed the tailor through to the rarely used dining room where she began laying out her tools on the table. She did so with an air of professionalism that Glory suspected was there to justify whatever she was charging Faith for the convenience of home service. But Glory couldn’t knock her hustle, it beat serving wedges of pungent cheese to the wealthy and wealth-adjacent at silent auctions.
“Who’s going to go first?” the tailor asked Faith.
They were all getting measured for outfits for Tabitha’s traditional engagement ceremony.
Michael came downstairs, carrying the red and gold lace that the bride’s mother had distributed to her guests, with the twins trotting diligently behind. The first time Glory had seen the sumptuous fabric, her mouth had practically watered. There were enough yards for the whole family, although Glory was sure that Michael would find an excuse not to attend.
“Is Mummy going to get measured?” Glory asked her sister.
“No. She’s not coming.”
“Since when?”
“Who knows. Maybe one of her holy men told her not to,” Faith said with a polite, but clearly sarcastic smile.
Michael settled into an armchair with Elijah on his lap, burrowing into his father’s body, thumb in mouth. Esther lay on her back at her dad’s feet, her legs propped up against him while she played a driving game, twisting her tablet this way and that.
“I’ll go first,” Glory offered the tailor, who had been waiting patiently for an answer. She stood with her arms out, and the woman wrapped a tape measure around her bust and started making notes.
“Remember Lará? I saw her the other day,” Glory told Faith, who was scrolling through her phone looking for the picture of the type of dress she wanted made. “I worked some industry function that she was attending. Her agency didn’t win anything though.”
“How is she?”
“She’s good.” Glory paused. “Mummy never mentioned that Mama Wawo is, like, her auntie or something.”
Faith looked up from her phone and watched the tailor measure Glory’s hips.
“Mama who?” she asked. Her fake ignorance was a warning shot, a chance for Glory to back down.
“Mama Wawo, the woman Mummy mentioned at the house a couple weeks ago.”
“Why were you talking to Lará about that?” Faith put down her phone.
“It just came up.”
Faith looked around the room as if whatever she wanted to say next was hiding behind the television or on the shelves next to the photo frames and carefully curated books. Esther continued to narrate her gameplay and Elijah had dozed off against his father’s chest, but Michael was watching his wife closely.
“What are you planning to do with this new information?” Faith asked, using every ounce of self-control she had to remain calm.
“What do you think I should do?”
“Not go gossiping about family business at the first opportunity.”
“It’s no big deal,” Glory said, trying to keep her tone bubbly as the tailor finished writing out her measurements. “Lará was fostered too.”
“Who’s next?”
Faith looked from Glory to the tailor and back again, fighting to keep anger from her face.
“I’ll be right back!” she finally said, then she left the room and went upstairs.
Glory took a seat, meeting Michael’s eyes in the process.
“So what are you going to do?” Michael asked Glory, who was surprised by the fact he had been paying attention to their conversation, let alone was interested in its topic.
“Erm, I’m not sure yet,” she said, not attempting to hide her disinterest in his interest.
“I think you should go and talk to this Madam Wawo.”
“It’s Mama Wawo,” Glory corrected him. This felt like a trap.
“Well, whatever her name is, she’s clearly your best bet. I tell Faith this every time she brings it up.”
“What do you mean brings it up? I thought she didn’t care,” Glory said, replacing disinterest with cautious curiosity.
“Oh no, she cares about it,” Michael said, shifting Elijah from one leg to the other. “She cares a lot. She thinks she’s protecting your mum, though.”
Glory looked from Michael to the tailor, who stood, flicking through her notebook as if she wished she could hide among the pages.
“From what?” Glory finally asked her brother-in-law, lowering her voice slightly.
“Do you want a drink?” Michael asked the tailor. “There’s juice in the fridge, clean glasses in the dishwasher—help yourself.”
The tailor looked grateful for a reason to leave the room. When he heard the fridge door open Michael continued.
“You know,” he said, settling into his seat. “Being the oldest, Faith’s seen things from a completely different perspective. She didn’t have a shield.”
“She’s not that much older than me,” Glory said, sitting up straighter and looking at Michael directly.
“Well, I think you should see if you can speak to this woman. Let me know if I can help. I mean it.”
Glory’s instinct was to tell him she’d be fine, that this was her family and she could handle it. But Faith was his wife.
“Thanks,” she said in the end. “I’ll let you know.”