The moonlight filtered through the window, highlighting my bed like an eerie stage. He sat gently beside me, as if afraid to wake me. “I’m proud of you” he whispered as he placed a gentle kiss on my forehead.
The incessant ringing of my phone jolts me awake; I reach drowsily for it on the bedside table.
“Hello auntie, good morning.” I take a quick glance at the bedside clock, 7 a.m. I think about the dream I just had and anxiously reach for the rosary under my pillow. “Is everything okay?”
It’s been a week since my father’s passing, and I still can’t wrap my head around it. I watch them lower the glossy black coffin into the freshly dug earth, and I think about the last time I saw him.
“Call me when you land, okay?” He waved, driving off.
I blink rapidly to clear the image and a painful one takes its place; My father, pale and clean-shaven, contained in a velvet-lined box. I blink again and rub my tightly rounded belly, there’s a sharp pain I can’t seem to soothe.
The priest is reading the final rites, but all I can hear are whispers from “concerned” relatives and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
“…at all o, even when they told her, they said she was just looking. She didn’t say pim.”
“That’s how a colleague of mine went ma…”
I turn sharply to face my mother and rub the spot on my arm she pinched. She nods in the direction of the priest.
Ah yes, time to throw earth. I walk carefully toward the diggers and collect the shovel. I’m not sure how long I stand there, staring at the moist dark soil, thinking of all the things I want to say to him. The sun glints off the shiny black surface of the coffin and I imagine what it’ll feel like to just jump down and touch it.
There’s a flutter in my belly and I let out a short laugh, loud enough to get a few worrying stares. Father John places a gentle hand on my shoulder and gives me an understanding look.
“Goodbye, Daddy,” I whisper.
“Grace! Did you hear what I said?” I draw my attention away from the car window and stare at my mother, trying to remember what we were talking about. There’s a sudden jolt as we turn into our street.
“Small small oh, uncle Gbenga!” My mother calls out to the driver.
“Sorry oh, Mummy! I no quick see the stone.” He chuckles nervously.
She gently squeezes my hand as the driver continues gingerly along the untarred road.
“I said we need to see Doctor Ada tomorrow.” When I don’t respond, she continues “for the sharp pains, Grace.”
I look at our joined hands. I’m not ready to go back to the hospital.
“No need, it stopped already.” I give her a small smile and squeeze her hand back.
Soon we’re at the house but there are so many cars in the compound, we barely have space to park ours. As we get out of the car, I put on my shades to block out the sun. I can feel the weight of so many pitying eyes as we make our way into the house. Sympathizers. Every day for the past week. I just want to be alone.
As they trip over themselves to greet my mother, I manage to slip unnoticed into my father’s study, locking the door behind me.
I take a deep breath and allow the smell of ginseng and old books to wash over me. I can see his smile like he’s in the room again.
“Grace mama, I’m here.” I hear his voice and smile, loving the memory of it. I move further into the room and sit at the chess table. I run my finger over the chessboard, thinking back to our last game two months ago.
“Oya let’s go before you miss your flight.” He stood, stretching.
“No, I’m winning! Three more moves and I have your queen.” I whined as he grabbed his keys from his desk.
“Mmhmm… You should have had her five moves ago.” He teased.
Noting my reluctance to leave, he extended his hand. “Okay let’s make a deal, I’ll leave the game like this. When you visit for Christmas, we’ll finish it.”
I shook his hand. “And when I win, what do I get?”
“We’ll see…” He winked.
“Grace mama, your move.” My father’s voice breaks through my reverie.
I look up to see him sitting across from me, grinning sheepishly, and pointing at the chess board.
“I know it’s not Christmas yet, but a promise is a promise.” He continues.
He looks like solid mist with shimmering edges, a living memory. Tears streak down my cheeks and I give him a watery smile.
“How…” I jump at the sound of someone trying to open the door. Wiping my face with the sleeve of my dress, I get up to unlock it.
It’s my mother with a tray of food. I move aside to let her in and close the door behind her.
“Everyone was asking after you.” She moves to a settee in front of the television in the corner and takes a seat.
I steal a glance at the chess table, there’s no one there, but I see my surviving rook facing a new threat from my father’s knight. I shake my head and sit beside my mother.
“I added extra turkey for you.” She hands me the tray.
I happily collect the tray and immediately bite into a piece of peppered turkey as she picks up the television remote.
“What should we watch?” I mumble between bites, realizing how hungry I’ve been all day.
She shrugs and puts the remote back down.
We sit in complete silence as I clean off the plate of jollof rice.
“Have the sympathizers left?” I put the tray down and take a deep satisfying breath.
“Why must you call them that? They came to offer condolences and you just disappeared without a word.” She closes her eyes tight and pinches the bridge of her nose.
“They’ve been offering their condolences all week; I needed a break.” I sigh and pick up the tray.
“I’ll take this to the kitchen,” I mutter.
“It’s okay, I was just worried about you.” She sighs.
“How was the rice?” She continues, sounding less strained.
Grateful for the subject change, I give my belly a comical pat. “Ask your grandchild.”
I lift my head from the pillow as the door creaks open. There’s a shadowed figure without a face standing in the doorway, waiting.
“No!” My mouth feels full of cotton.
She starts to make her way into the room, and I jump off the bed to lock the door.
“I said, no!” But the door won’t close, and she grabs hold of my head, screaming in my face from where her mouth should be. I’m choking on what smells like burnt coal, my eyes are burning.
“Grace, wake up!” My mother pats my back as I cough myself awake.
“Another nightmare?” She helps me into a sitting position.
I nod and rub my face to clear the grogginess.
It’s been three months since the burial and I’ve been having recurrent nightmares, but this is the first time I’ve encountered the shadowed woman. I feel so shaken.
“Will you come to mass with me today?” She stands, adjusting her purse on her shoulder.
We stare at each other for a few seconds.
“I understand you’re struggling, but it’s All Soul’s.” She presses, with a look of concern.
I think about it for a moment, sitting in church surrounded by incense fumes and organ music. I can’t do it. I’ve seen neither my rosary nor bible in the past three months. It’s possible I didn’t even travel with them.
“For him, please?” She lays a gentle palm on my cheek.
I can’t look her in the eye, I can’t go to church. I can’t bring myself to pray. I look away, and she pulls her hand from my cheek with a sigh.
“You know, it’s not easy for me too.” She walks out, leaving the door to close behind her with a bang.
I sit there in bed, staring at the closed door. I can feel the uncomfortable wetness of tears running down my cheeks and further down my neck. I sniffle and try to get out of bed as I hear her car leave the compound.
Leaving my bed is getting harder every day, but I don’t want to stay cooped up in the room. It’s suffocating.
My phone rings, it’s a video call from my husband. I quickly wipe my face with the corner of my blanket before I answer.
“D’im.” I tease as he comes into view.
“You sound like my mother.” He chuckles.
“And you look like your father.” I retort cheerfully.
“Glad to see you still have a sense of humour.” He shakes his head in mock disappointment.
I laugh, settling back into bed to enjoy the call.
“Are you okay?” His face switches from laughter to concern.
“It’s All Soul’s,” I answer limply.
“And you couldn’t go.” He says, needing no explanation.
I nod, thinking of how to change the subject without being obvious.
“Still having the nightmares?” He continues.
When I simply look away without answering, he asks again. “Want to talk about it?”
I shake my head and massage the side of my belly as sharp pains shoot through my side.
Noting my discomfort, he changes the subject.
“How’s our little bundle of joy treating your joints?” He teases.
“Well, I’m stuck in bed.” I laugh, and thankfully he joins in.
We continue like that for the next hour, laughing at ridiculous baby names.
“I don’t care who your mother’s favourite saint is, we’re not naming our first child Boniface!” I squeal, laughing out of control.
I hear the gate and I know my mother is back. Before long, she enters the room and hands me a warm black nylon. “I bought akara, Father John said I should greet you.”
She gives me a once over. “This one that you’re smiling at your phone…”
Climbing in beside me, she asks with unconcealed excitement. “Onyeluka! Is that you?”
I roll my eyes and hand the phone over. “Enjoy yourselves, I need to leave this room.”
I successfully get myself out of bed and leave them to talk, taking my akara with me. I step out of the room and head straight to the study. I haven’t been there since the burial.
I close the door gently behind me and turn around to see him sitting at the chess table, hand on his chin as if lost in thought.
“Daddy?” I stop and stare. I thought I had imagined him on the afternoon of the burial.
“I’ve been waiting for you. It’s your move.” He answers without looking up from the chessboard.
“How? Aren’t you supposed to have moved on by now?” I eye him warily as I make my way to the seat across from him.
He shrugs, still watching the board.
“It seems I have unfinished business.” He finally looks up at me.
My breath catches. “Who killed you?!”
He laughs so loud; I look quickly at the door expecting someone to burst in.
“Nobody killed me, baby, it was time.” He looks back at the board.
I keep staring at him, not sure what to say.
He points to the board and smiles. “Now, are you going to play or are you afraid I’ll beat you?”
And then it hits me, our game. It was the last promise he made. If he doesn’t fulfil it, he can’t leave.
I give him my warmest smile, feeling a flutter of excitement in my chest. Time for an extended play.
I’m not sure how long we sit there, playing in comfortable silence and nibbling on balls of akara until the nylon lies empty.
After a while, he leans back and smiles. “I thought all you needed was three moves.”
I shrug as innocently as I can and pat my bulging belly. “You’ll be surprised how much pregnancy affects the brain.”
He raises a brow but says nothing as he makes his play.
I hear the door open and look up as my mother walks in. “You’ve been cooped up in here all morning, are you sure you don’t want to talk?”
“Oh, I’m fine, we were just…” I turn to find him gone.
“I was just brushing up on my chess.” I finish.
She gives me a curious look and then nods.
“Onyeluka said he’ll be here by the end of the month.” She walks up to me and rubs my back.
“I know this isn’t what you wanted…” She continues, the now familiar strain entering her voice.
I touch her hand and give it a gentle squeeze. “It’s not what anybody wanted, Mummy.”
“You know, he tried to get me to play chess for years, but it just wasn’t my thing. I’m glad he found his person in you.” She kisses the top of my head.
Fighting back tears, I stand to give her a tight hug. My belly stops my arms from going fully around and we end up in an awkward side hug.
She laughs and pats my head. “Come, I made turkey pepper soup.”
The following weeks pass in a blur of activity as I prepare for my EDD with my mother’s assistance. I spend every other evening in the study, playing chess with my father, prolonging the game. Deep down I know I can’t make it last forever, but I haven’t had another nightmare since we started playing.
The week before Luka is due to arrive, I find myself unable to sleep. I toss and turn, but no position feels comfortable. I feel fear, rolling around my belly like a giant worm. The hairs on my neck stand as I shiver.
I can hear the trees outside whistling with the heavy wind. There’s a burst of lightning and a sudden dip in my stomach.
I reach for my phone and check the time. 2 a.m. I make my way out of the room, grateful that my parents got a bungalow for their retirement, I don’t think I can manage stairs right now.
The house is quiet, except for a painful sobbing sound. I follow it to my parent’s bedroom door.
I can hear my mother, sobbing and praying. I rub my chest gently to ease the pressing ache, unsure of what to do. I slide down gently and sit awkwardly on the floor beside the door.
The rain starts in earnest, with massive lightning flashes and a loud downpour that drowns out my mother’s voice. I feel so alone, I find myself saying a prayer for the first time in months.
“Give me strength, grant me peace,” I say over and over, losing myself to the plea as the rain grows heavier. A massive thunderclap snaps me back to the moment, and I realise I’m no longer alone.
She’s standing right across from me, shadowed and faceless as the first time I saw her. This time, she’s holding a bundle. I try to move away as she comes closer, but I can’t get up.
Unable to take my eyes off her, I try to reach for my mother’s doorknob, but my hand is too heavy. She kneels in front of me, holding the bundle close to her chest.
A flash of lightning reveals her face. I’m frozen in horror as I recognise my face.
She lays the bundle at my feet. A bloody mangled foetus.
I scream so loud my throat hurts.
“Grace!!! Stay still, you’re hurting yourself!” My mother’s voice breaks through the terrible haze as she rocks me back and forth, weeping uncontrollably.
“What happened, why are you on the floor?!” She cries.
I bury my face in the crook of her neck and weep, I can’t shake the image of the mangled foetus.
“My baby. She killed my baby.” I mumble senselessly.
She pulls away from me to search my face. “Did you… Did you have another nightmare?”
“It was me, all this time it was me… I tried to pray… Oh God, my baby… I can’t breathe!” I heave, looking around wildly.
“Shh. It is well with you and the baby.” She rubs my back as I struggle to take deep breaths.
“It’s okay hmm?” She continues soothingly.
I nod and try to speak but I double over, heaving and vomiting as sharp pains tear through my belly.
My mother runs into her room and comes out almost immediately, keys jingling.
“I’ve called Doctor Ada; we’re going to the hospital.” She says, trying to sound calm.
I nod and lie back, closing my eyes with relief.
We’re outside, with a full moon as our spotlight. I look down at the chessboard, one more move to checkmate. I stare at him, unwilling to play. I don’t want him to leave.
“It’s okay Grace, take deep breaths.” He smiles encouragingly.
“Her blood pressure spiked, thankfully she’s stable now.” I recognize Doctor Ada’s voice.
The moon is gone, I’m lying on my side on a hard bed. I try to open my eyes, but the lights are too bright, and I groan.
“We’ll like to keep her a few days for monitoring though.” She continues.
“Thank you, Ada. I’ll call Luka to push up his flight… Just in case.” My mother sounds so defeated.
The door closes quietly, and I open my eyes fully to find myself looking directly into my mother’s eyes. I hold her gaze; there’s so much pain, I can’t bear to look away.
“Can I… Can I have some water please?” I look away, feeling ashamed.
I struggle to sit up as she heads to the mini fridge for a bottle of water.
“No no, don’t sit up.” She hurries to me with the water.
“Let me adjust the bed so you’re inclined just a little bit.” She hands me the bottle and fiddles under the bed until I find myself in a comfortable position.
She returns to the bedside chair but keeps looking at me. I can tell she’s afraid.
“How’re you?” I ask, desperate to fill the silence.
She nods and pats my hand. “God is in control.”
I’m not sure if she’s trying to convince herself or me, so I just nod in agreement.
After a few agonizing minutes, I try again.
I’m not sure what I had intended to say, but what comes out of my mouth surprises us both.
“Pray for me, please.”
We stare at each other in stunned silence. I haven’t prayed in months; I can no longer listen to hymns without entering a deep wave of depression.
I lost my father, and I lost my faith. I left her holding on for both of us.
She holds my hand and bows her head. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit…”
For the next two days, we pray together. There are no more nightmares, no more sharp pains. On the third day, Doctor Ada clears me to go home. I’m fine, the baby’s fine; I still have three weeks till my EDD. I get a text from Luka; he was able to push up his flight. He lands tonight.
I’m so happy, I almost miss her standing in the corner in broad daylight. Faceless and shadowed by her pain, I know her face.
My heart dips at the sight of the bundle in her arms, and visions of the mangled foetus flash through my mind.
“No.” I shudder.
I reach behind me to steady myself on the bed, but my hand meets air and I’m falling. I can’t take my eyes off her as I fall to the ground, hitting my head at the edge of the bed.
“Grace!” My mother screams.
The door bursts open and there’s commotion around me. I can hear my mother crying as someone lifts me off the floor. The sounds fade as everything grows darker. I want to sleep.
It’s the moonlit chess set again, but he’s not here.
“Daddy?” I call out into the darkness.
“Daddy, where are you?” I try again.
“Shh, let’s play” He smiles and gestures to the sit across from him.
I sit and look at the board, one move left. I move a random pawn, avoiding his gaze.
The sound of his laughter echoes through the darkness, I sneak a quick look at him.
He leans back and raises a brow. “Is that so?”
The sound of his amused laughter continues to echo in my mind as I open my eyes to find Luka searching my face.
“Thank God! Any headaches?” He runs his hands all over my body.
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak.
“You scared me.” He places a kiss on my forehead.
I search for his hand beside me on the bed and give it a gentle squeeze, trying hard not to cry.
My mother walks into the room with Doctor Ada.
“That was quite a scare you gave us, Grace. How’re you feeling?” Doctor Ada asks as she checks my pulse.
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
Seemingly satisfied, she takes a step back. “I already spoke to your mom and your husband last night; we’ll be delivering your baby tonight through caesarean section.”
When I just stare blankly at her, she continues. “After your episode yesterday morning, we decided it might be best for you both.”
As I continue to stare, she turns to my mother and husband.
“Please make sure nothing agitates her, we need them both stable for their safety.” With that, she leaves.
My mother settles at the foot of the bed, looking tired and worried. “Do you need anything?”
“I need you to go home and rest! I’m not an egg!” I snap in frustration.
She flinches as if I’ve slapped her, there’s an awkward silence as Luka shoots me a quick look of disappointment before moving to embrace her.
He whispers something to her, and she shrugs.
“It’s okay, she’s the only one who’s frustrated abi?” Her eyes are red and pooling with tears.
I try to shrink away from the rage and pain. But she’s like a broken dam, ready to scatter everything in front of her.
“You lost your father, yes. But I lost my husband, my best friend for forty years!” She gets off the bed and picks up her purse. “We finally had time to do the things we always talked about.”
“Mummy…” Luka tries to reach for her again, but she shrugs out of his embrace and moves closer to me. I’m afraid to look away.
“Na love I love, I no kill person.” With that, she storms out of the room.
I turn to Luka. “I didn’t mean…”
He shakes his head and comes to sit beside me, patting my hand gently. “Both of you forgot that she was supposed to be grieving too.”
I nod and close my eyes, feeling overwhelmed.
I see her as they roll me to the theatre, standing and watching with her bundle held tight. I close my eyes.
“The Lord is my shepherd…” I begin to whisper.
I open my eyes, I’m in the theatre. A doctor I’m unfamiliar with comes into view.
“I want you to count down from ten for me” She holds up a syringe.
I close my eyes and count. “Ten, nine, eight, …”
Everything is dark; no moon, no chess set.
“Daddy?!” I call out, feeling cold and alone.
I notice a door a little way ahead of me, it’s my father’s study door.
With a sigh of relief, I make my way to it. My feet are tired, I need to sit.
When I get to the door, it’s wide open. I’m about to enter when I see her, standing and waiting.
“You’re tired, close the door behind you and come sit with me. It’s time to rest.” I hear her from within and around me. The cold has intensified.
I stand at the threshold, unwilling to move. She stretches out a shadowed hand, beckoning me, her bundle snug against her bosom.
I instinctively move my hand to rub my belly, but there’s nothing.
With a strangled cry, I fall to my knees and clutch my now empty womb. “My baby!”
“Come, rest. Close the door behind you.” Her words surround me like a torturous mantra.
I try to cover my ears, but it’s still coming from within. I’m tired, I need to sit.
I stand, resigned to make my way towards her when I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder. I turn around to face my father.
“Come, there’s someone you have to meet.” He whispers in my ear.
I look back into the study to find her gone, blended into the shadows.
“Time to go, they’re waiting.” He steers me away from the study, down what now looks like the hospital corridor.
We’re both in a hospital room, my mother and Luka are standing over a bassinet. I look at myself on the bed, sleeping peacefully.
I look to my dad, not sure what’s supposed to be happening, but I can sense this is goodbye.
“What about our game, I’ve not beaten you yet.”
He chuckles and winks at me.
“Checkmate.”
I open my eyes to my mother cradling a bundle in her arms. I shake the image of a mangled foetus from my mind and give her a tentative smile. She smiles back.
“Can I see her?” I whisper.
Luka adjusts my bed to an inclined position, before taking a step back for my mom to place the bundle in my arms.
“She has been waiting to meet you.” She grins, looking tired but joyful.
I look at my bundle, my daughter, unharmed. “Hello sweetie, how would you like to be named after the best grandpa in the world?”
