“Someone recognized him, didn’t they?”

“They must have . . .” Kavita hadn’t known this was the story Chika was telling people. “How else would they know whose house to bring him to? It had to be someone who actually knew him.”

“Well, who brought him to the house?” asked Maja. She didn’t use the word “body,” and Kavita noted the small kindness.

“Nobody,” she said.

Maja looked confused. “Nobody brought him to the house?”

“No.” Kavita shook her head. “I don’t— We don’t know who brought him to the house.”

There was a pause before Maja spoke again, carefully. “You mean you didn’t see the person? You didn’t talk to them?”

Kavita’s eyes filled with tears.

“No. We didn’t see anybody. They just . . . they just left him. They just left him in front of the door like he was rubbish.” Kavita broke down into sobs and Maja came beside her and hugged her.

“My dear, that’s terrible,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

“I just need to find out what happened to him. The police are useless and Chika just looks at me when I try to talk to him about it. He asks what difference will it make.”

“I understand why you need to. It has to make sense.”

Kavita nodded. “He was so young. Something happened. It doesn’t make sense. They took off his clothes when they left him there.”

Maja recoiled. “What?! Who would do something like that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything. That’s what I have to find out. That’s why I need to talk to Juju. I need to know what happened when he came to visit, what time he left, things like that. I just need to find out, Maja. I can’t sleep until I do.”

Maja’s face closed up a little. “I’m sorry, Kavita. . . . You can’t talk to Juju right now.”

Kavita looked confused. “Why not? Isn’t she around?”

“Well, yes, she’s in her room. But Kavita, she hasn’t said anything since she found out.”

“Anything about that day, you mean?”

“No, I mean she hasn’t said anything at all. She’s . . . stopped talking. That’s why Charles came back.”

Kavita blinked. She hadn’t even realized that Charles was back, although she’d noticed him at the burial. But she hadn’t asked Maja why he came, because she didn’t care. What did a broken marriage matter in the face of a dead child? This was how Kavita knew she was a terrible person—that she could know the things Charles had put Maja through, see the strain in Maja’s face, and not care. But terrible people could still be good mothers. The last thing she could do for Vivek was to find out what had happened. Maja was still talking. “We’re just trying to be there for her right now. Obviously she and Vivek were very close and she’s taking this really hard. We have to be patient with her.” She sounded as if she was trying to convince herself. “At least Charles is no longer talking about moving that woman into my house.” Maja spat out “that woman” as if it tasted bad, but relief ran under her words. Kavita knew she was supposed to express some sympathy, but she remained silent.

Maja caught her lack of response and smoothed out her face. “She won’t talk to you, Kavita. And I don’t even think it’s a good idea to ask her about him. It’s just too painful for her.”

Kavita stared. She couldn’t have heard right. “Did you—did you just say it’s too painful for her?”

“Yes, of course. You know how much they loved each other.”

A cracked laugh burst out from Kavita’s mouth. She couldn’t help it. “I’m his mother!” she gasped, incredulous. “It’s too painful for her? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”

For a moment, Maja didn’t respond. “Kavita,” she said eventually, her voice level, “of course you’re his mother. That doesn’t mean there aren’t other people who loved him, who are mourning him as well.”

“I don’t care!” Kavita stood up quickly, her heart racing. “If you people really loved him, you would be helping me find out what happened to him! But instead all you want to do is block me from finding out the truth. What kind of love is that?”

Maja stood up as well. “My dear, of course I want to help you find out what happened. We all do. All I’m saying is that Juju can’t help you right now. She’s suffering—”

“I don’t care about her suffering!” Kavita hissed, and Maja recoiled. “It is nothing compared to my own. That girl will answer my questions and then she can go and suffer in peace!” She took a step forward, but Maja stepped in front of her with a hard, set face.

“I said no, Kavita. Absolutely not.” They glared at each other. “I know you’re going through unimaginable pain right now,” Maja said, “but it is my job to protect my child and I can’t let you speak with her. Not when you’re like this.”

Kavita felt as if Maja had hit her. “Are you saying I didn’t protect my child?” she whispered, her voice splintering.

Maja’s face softened.

“Oh, Kavita, of course I’m not saying that.”

“It sounds like you are! So my child is dead because I didn’t protect him, ehn?”

Maja sighed, her eyes sympathetic. “Go home, Kavita. Go home, rest and grieve. You’re not thinking correctly.” She tried to put a hand on her friend’s arm, but Kavita wrenched it away. She snatched up her handbag, then pushed past Maja and out the door, slamming it behind her.

Inside her bedroom, Juju sat curled up by the door, her ear pressed to the wood as she listened to their quarrel. She was wearing a cotton nightgown that she hadn’t changed in a day or two. Juju nervously pumped her mouth full of saliva then swallowed, words knocking about in her head. She was a little surprised to hear her mother defend her so vehemently; she’d even wondered if she would use Vivek’s grieving mother as a tool to break her silence. But to be left protected, inside the bubble of silence she had created when she found out he was dead—that was a mercy Juju welcomed. She didn’t know why she’d stopped talking, to be honest. It had just felt easier. People had kept asking her how she was, how she was holding up, if she was okay, but when they realized she wasn’t going to answer, they eventually stopped.

Vivek’s death had even managed to bring her father home and it felt a little bit like they were a family again. If the other woman was still a factor, she was sure she would have heard her parents arguing about it by now. Somto and Olunne had stopped by, but Juju simply left the sitting room when they came, and locked herself in her bedroom. It was harder to be silent around them; she had to run away to keep the bubble intact, so she could be safe inside it. Elizabeth hadn’t come by the house, but she had called several times, and Maja could only respond that Juju wasn’t speaking yet. Elizabeth had even sent her a letter. Juju read it sitting on her bedroom floor, leaning against the bed frame:

    Dear Juju,

I don’t know what to say about all of this. Your mumsy says that you’re still not talking to anybody and after what happened last time we spoke in person, you probably don’t want to talk to me either. I tried to greet you at the burial and you just ignored me. I can’t lie and say that I’m not still angry with you, but it’s somehow for me to continue to be angry in this situation. I want to help you but I’m angry with you but Vivek is dead.

Everything is just a mess. I don’t even know why I’m writing this. Maybe you can write back if you still don’t want to talk? I can’t keep calling your house like this just to make sure you’re okay. If I’m being honest, I’m still angry with him, too. How can I be angry at someone who’s dead? And not just dead, but they killed him. I feel like a horrible person. It should have been enough to forgive both of you, that whole thing people like to say about realizing life is short and cherishing your loved ones, but it doesn’t feel that way to me. I never even got to talk to him about it.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. I just know I’m still angry.

Sorry.

xx

Elizabeth

Juju folded the letter and put it inside one of her books. She hadn’t seen Elizabeth since about a week before Vivek was killed, when she’d told her the truth about the morning after Osita came to her house looking for his cousin. She had been tired of hiding it from Elizabeth. Every time her girlfriend whispered I love you, Juju had wanted to say it back, but that morning was blocking her throat and the words wouldn’t come out. She knew Elizabeth was hurt and confused by her silence; she’d said so more than once.