Little Gods

Moji clutched her diary and inched barefoot across the patio overlooking the driveway. She loved the cold feel of marble against her soles but knew she would have to sink her feet into the icky, rain-wetted lawn when marble ran out. Just like it was two nights ago, the rain had turned the lagoon into a curious gem, a jewel that mirrored the moon’s shine. She was tired of poring over it from the first floor of Lara’s two-story Lekki Beach home and had waddled downstairs to see if she could touch those emerald glitters, driven by a hunch that a dust road lit up by fireflies would take her straight through the brick wall and into a lake paradise.

She held her diary firmly against her side, as if it were a banister she could cling to if she fell. She wrote in it each day and never went anywhere without it, a habit she had developed over the last ten years. Keeping records had become necessary now that her memory had failed her a few times; she needed proof that certain things had happened, things she might one day doubt. Also, it was her way of talking to herself when she had no one to talk to. Her lonely days were getting lonelier as the onset of widowhood stretched by the year.

Standing at the edge of the patio, Moji lowered a leg onto the grass and felt water pool around it. The trident lamp post loomed as she squelched towards the garden roundabout in the driveway. The dark patches on the three globes of light crackled. Something landed on her neck and she slapped at it. She pressed her hand against her neck and rubbed. Nothing. She caught nothing. Locusts in their hundreds swarmed around the globes, taking the shape of dark patches where they settled, their wings sounding together in crackles and pops.

Moji opened her diary and raised it to the light with one hand, her arm shaking like a leaf as she leaned forward. She lost the diary pen, trying to remove it from its holder in the book’s spine. So, she swiped below the diary and found it dangling from its leash. Locusts landed on her face and on the pages she held apart. Carefully, she wrote a few lines, describing the locusts as umbral fairies coaxing her towards the magical lagoon. She wished she could tell Lara about it, but they no longer talked like they used to.

Lara no longer entertained her recollections of Taiwo. Ever since Femi died, almost ten years ago, Lara seemed to resent her for still thinking about the boy she loved before she loved her father. Her daughter couldn’t understand why she would dwell on a jilt instead of a husband. It wasn’t fair to Femi, true, but it wasn’t something Moji could help. Taiwo was the love of her life. And you can only have one love of your life. So, of course, she missed him more. Yes, Femi had loved her dearly and had always been good to her, but Taiwo was her twin soul. You can’t compete with that. Back when Lara was younger, Moji’s teenage romance had been their mother-daughter secret, their special bond. It wasn’t exactly a secret. Femi had known about Taiwo. He just hadn’t known how strongly Moji felt about him, or that she never stopped thinking about him even when she was with him.

The last time she spoke to Lara about Taiwo, Lara had shocked her by remarking, “I thought they were fairy tales, Mama, just love stories you made up for me when I was young.”

Taiwo? A made-up story? Why would she fabricate a story and put herself in it?

“When you said both of you could… you know… Heal each other with a touch. Were you speaking metaphorically?” Lara had asked.

And when Moji replied with a firm ‘no’, she said, “Oh, Mama. I don’t know what to think, but, please, I beg you. Let’s give Taiwo a rest for now. It’s only been two months since Daddy died.”

Her daughter’s skepticism did not shock her. Lara was forty-two, after all, far from the child she once was. She was a pediatrician who worked at the prestigious Macaulay Memorial on the mainland. She was all grown and all science. For years, she had insisted on Moji coming to live with her, with her and Yemisi. It was only last year that Moji succumbed to her request. But it wasn’t because she needed her care, no, no. She came to Lagos, to Lara’s Lekki beach home, to help Lara get through a painful divorce.

A dark shape gave her a start. It came out of nowhere and rubbed against her legs. It was Simi, Lara’s white Yorkshire terrier. Moji reached down to pat her furry little head and felt her wagging tail instead. The lamp posts in front of the house didn’t illuminate the driveway enough. Or perhaps it was her cataract making everything darker than it was.

“Mama.” Moji heard a voice call. It sounded like Lara.

“I’m here,” the voice said.

The wide-hipped silhouette of a moderately tall woman (Lara in trousers) rose from her crouch and waved a large hand at Moji. Lara was in the garden roundabout. Her hands were massive. She took them off and Moji realized they were gardening gloves.

“Going somewhere?” Lara asked.

“Not really. Just want to feel the damp soil between my toes, that’s all. Is my granddaughter back from school?”

“She’s been back a long time. She said you were sleeping, and she didn’t want to wake you. She’s in the children’s parlor doing her homework.”

“Alright then.” Moji turned to go back into the house. “Mama?”

“Yes.”

“About Yemisi. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about her.” Lara came into the light. “Mama, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want you putting ideas in her head.”

“What ideas?”

“You told her about the Ibeji when she came home yesterday, didn’t you?”

“It was for her Social Studies homework. She said she was asked to write about the ancient practices of the Yoruba and she asked me if I had ever witnessed twin babies being starved to death. I said no, but I was aware it was happening. I didn’t tell her about that bit of history. They teach that in schools these days.”

“But you said more than that, didn’t you? You know what? Forget it. Forget I brought it up.”

“No, tell me. What did I say?”

Lara took a long while. Finally, she said, “You told her twin souls, and not twins per se, were what people were afraid of back then. She said you said people were scared of them because they were like heaven on earth, too perfect for our world. And that they had magical powers that upset not just the natural cycle of reincarnation but the essence of creation.”

Moji sighed. She remembered that evening. She had rambled on about the zero-sum existence of the spirit world with the real world.

“The natural cycle of reincarnation, Mama? Do we practice Ifa now? If you’re a traditionalist, then let me make it clear to you that I want to raise my daughter a Christian.”

“I said that only because she asked why only one twin was starved to death. I wasn’t the one who told her that. They teach that in schools these days. I didn’t tell her I’m a twin soul, or that I’ve met my other half, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Lara made a guttural sound. She gave her a look that mourned her and returned to her gardening.

Moji rubbed her eyelids and wrung out tears. Taiwo, look what you’ve done to me: everyone thinks I’m crazy. Why did you come into my life? Why?