Then Their Lips Touch (3)

“Okay, okay, dou. Look, I brought you soursop.” Mudiaga presented her one of the bags he carried as atonement, but she continued to eye him broodingly. “What, you wanna cry over beads you can fix? Fine.” He withdrew the bag.

“Fine!” The girl stepped from behind the stall to seize the bag and snatched one stick of sugarcane, as well, declaring, “I’ll take one sugarcane, too! You can’t bribe me with jus’ soursop!”

The girl was dressed in a long teal skirt and sleeveless, pale yellow crop blouse, with no outer robe or headscarf. Her skin and eyes were the same light brown as Mudiaga’s, and her bright orange coils of hair framed her face. In her forehead glimmered a yellow cabochon-cut apatite, and her arms were decked with bracelets nearly to her elbows.

Leaning forward, Mudiaga quietly inquired, “Is Naborhi home?”

The girl said, still brooding, “No, she wen’ ta Mama Loho.”

He straightened with a look of relief and asked, “Well, you forgot how ta greet?”

“Miguo,” the girl said begrudgingly, quickly bending her knees.

“An’ them,” he nodded to Emeravwe and Akpokene. “Greet them properly. They’re from the palace.”

As the girl took in Emeravwe and Akpokene in their pink Agaenaye uniforms, her eyes nearly popped. She turned a stricken look to Mudiaga. “You brought Onorogu from the palace?” He shrugged, unconcerned, and she immediately spun around, racing through the entrance of the home, shouting, “Mama! Babo!”

Mudiaga turned to Emeravwe and Akpokene, who watched with wonder. “My little sister, Efemena,” he said by means of explanation.

He seemed unfazed by his sister’s reaction, but Emeravwe shifted uncomfortably. “Um…”

“It looks like we are unwelcomed guests,” Akpokene said. “Should we leave?”

Mudiaga scratched his head, uncertain. “Well, my family isn’t the most welcoming when it comes to Onorogu, especially those from the palace. But it’s not like they can turn you away. I mean, you’re Onorogu, after all. Come on, I’ll introduce you to my mother and grandfather.”

Emeravwe and Akpokene exchanged a doubtful glance before following him through the entrance.

They stepped into a narrow hallway which extended the short length of the home, the back door visible and propped open. At the front, to one side of the hallway, was a small parlor with a low table surrounded by colorful floor cushions. A broad window looked out onto the street and stalls, and a multitude of verdant potted plants were arranged around the room: on the windowsill, the table, in corners, hanging on pegs on the walls and hooks in the ceiling.

On the opposite side of the hallway was what looked like a workstation. It was occupied by a large table strewn with baskets of beads, wires, strings, small carvings, paint and paint brushes. This area, too, was nearly overrun with greenery, with plants occupying every available space.

Here, a slim woman with the same orange coils, yellow apatite, and brown eyes as Mudiaga sat on a stool, the tools she used to bend and set jewelry frozen in her hands as she observed Akpokene and Emeravwe.

An elderly man with paler red hair entered from the back door, accompanied by Mudiaga’s little sister. He wore gloves and an apron stuck with tiny wood shavings, and he walked silently toward the front of the home, his eyes and bearing grave.

“Mama! Babo! Miguo!” Mudiaga greeted enthusiastically before an awkward silence could settle around them. He strode to the worktable, pushing aside a few baskets of beads to unload his bag of garden eggs and sugarcane, then wrapped his mother in his arms. “You missed me, didn’ you? Good, ‘cause I missed yer cooking! Feed us ‘fore sendin’ us back ta the palace.”

“Mudiaga,” his mother said in a warning tone as she stood, pushing him away. Her eyes narrowed sharply.

“Babo!” Mudiaga called suddenly and rushed to his grandfather to escape his mother’s stare. “You were workin’ in the back? Did you get an order for a dresser or table?”

“Stop yer bab’lin’ an’ introduce yer guests,” his grandfather commanded. “Tha’s wha’ yer gettin’ at, aint it?” He stepped forward, his grave bearing replaced by impassivity. “Atare.” Mudiaga’s mother looked up, catching his intent gaze.

She faced Emeravwe and Akpokene uneasily, managing a tight smile. “Introduce yer guests, Mudiaga.”

“Yes!” Mudiaga walked over to the girls, indicating them respectively, “This is Agaenaye Emeravwe who works in the same office as me in the Bureau of Court Affairs. An’ this is Agaenaye Akpokene—she also works in the bureau.”

His mother and grandfather bent in a digwe and butu, his grandfather prodding his sister to do the same as they greeted, “Miguo, Agaenaye. We’re honored by yer presence.”

“Vrendo,” Emeravwe and Akpokene answered stiffly. “Thank you for having us.”

There was an awkward silence in which Mudiaga’s family remained bent in their greeting, and Emeravwe and Akpokene looked tensely to him.

He chortled, whispering, “You have to allow them to rise.”

The two girls turned back with panicked realization. “Please rise!”

Mudiaga laughed as his mother and grandfather straightened. “See, you don’ have ta be so honored by their presence! They’re jus’ low-level Agaenaye who aren’ even used ta receivin’ greetings.”

“Onorogu is still Onorogu!” his mother spat.

“Please have a seat, Agaenaye,” his grandfather interjected, indicating the parlor. He began taking off his gloves and apron as he instructed Efemena, “Efe, clear the plants off the table.” He turned to Mudiaga and his mother, “Mudiaga, seat yer guests, an’ Atare, prepare some ’freshments.”

The individuals mentioned moved to accomplish their tasks. Upon completing hers, Mudiaga’s sister was sent back outside to watch the stands, and the rest settled around the table in the parlor with cups of sweet malt drinks and balls of peanutty kuli-kuli.

“I asked you ta feed us, Mama, not give us snacks!” Mudiaga complained.

His mother glared at him across the table, and he quickly turned to Emeravwe and Akpokene and launched into a commentary of how his grandfather was a carpenter who was also very skilled in decorative carvings. Their conversation was stiff, and consisted mostly of Mudiaga explaining his family’s occupation, and his grandfather asking first how their work was in the Bureau of Court Affairs, then inquiring about Mudiaga’s comfort with the Palace Guard. His mother gave only an occasional response, remaining mostly silent and severe.

It was not long before Mudiaga announced they must leave, and his grandfather thanked Emeravwe and Akpokene for their visit, asking them to bear with his grandson, for he knew what sort of troublemaker he was.

As Emeravwe and Akpokene stepped out, he called, "Mudiaga, you stay. Me and yer mother want ta talk ta you."