CHAPTER 8 – THIS FAMILY CALLED MINE: COLOUR US UP

© Opeyemi Akintunde
As Inspired by the LIVING WORD…

“How far?” I whispered.

Setemi brought out her phone and showed me a message.

“It’s done.”

I didn’t know what “it’s done” meant exactly, but I decided not to ask questions. I didn’t want guilt weighing me down.

But Tobe saved me the trouble of overthinking.

“Accident!” he suddenly exclaimed, loudly as he received a call.

We, the ladies, exchanged looks…unintentionally giving ourselves away. He caught it.

“Oh, I see… You girls brought a sword to a gunfight.” He smirked and stood up, walking slowly towards Setemi.

“Let me guess. The mother of five girls, who turned her husband into a boy through fetish means, decided to go spiritual on my father-in-law, right?”

Setemi stared him down, unshaken.

“Is this your delay tactics then? What happened to your father-in-law? Just tell the truth. There is no Will, right?” she asked boldly.

“In your wildest dreams. The Will exists. There’s just been an accident… not involving my father-in-law, but on the road. That’s why he’s delayed.”

Not what we expected.

Setemi’s face darkened slightly. Disappointment etched across her features.

“Hmmm… delay. I see.” She walked off, and like sugar ants, we followed.

---

“That’s all your ‘Baba’ could do?” Morayo scoffed. “If I step in now, you’ll claim I’m trying to take over as firstborn again.”

“Well, not all of us take steps that could lead to chaos. Think about it: if that lawyer dies, Tobe leaves to attend to that and we’d have to postpone the meeting indefinitely.” Setemi replied. “I’ve told Baba to change the strategy. We’ll stall the lawyer until tomorrow. On his way here, we’ll arrange for some boys to waylay him….collect the Will and make him deny it ever existed.”

“Setemi, what if there’s a backup copy?” I asked quietly.

Silence.

Morayo smirked. I knew that look…she was ready to walk.

“Let’s try our luck,” I suggested. “Forced heirship is in our favour. If the Will vanishes and the lawyer backs out, we can fall back on Yoruba Customary Law. All the children will have equal rights to the inheritance.”

“And you think those our step-cousins won’t contest it?” Morayo replied, already skeptical.

Just then, a loud car blaring music screeched into the compound.

We knew who it was.

Our troublesome female step-cousin had arrived…with her brother.

Pamilerin said what we were all thinking.

“The battle just got fierce.”

Growing up, Pamilerin hated Chizzy. They were cat and rat, fire and fuel.

“Hello, family,” Uche, the only polite one among them, greeted.

“Hello, Uche,” I replied, forcing a smile. I was the one who reached out to him.

“Hi,” Pamilerin said with minimal interest. But Morayo and Setemi said nothing.

Uche got the hint and walked in after exchanging brief pleasantries.

“You know Uche’s not like the rest. You could’ve answered him,” I told my sisters.

But they had moved on.

“Have you reached out to the men?” Morayo asked Setemi.

“I know a few boys.”

“Are they hard enough to deliver?” Morayo pressed. “Because I have monsters that can make that lawyer destroy the Will with his own hands and relocate to Canada before sunrise.”

Setemi’s face immediately showed that she felt insulted…

“Why do you always try to belittle me?” Setemi fired back. “You enjoy making me feel small. I told you I have it handled, but no ! you want to prove you can do it better.”

Morayo raised her brows in shock.

“You really have a problem,” she said, turning and storming off to her car.

“Morayo! Stop! Let’s talk this out!” I cried after her.

But she was gone. The engine roared and she reversed out.

“Let her go,” Setemi hissed. “She always runs instead of standing with family.”

Then turning to Pamilerin, she said, “Let’s go in and watch how this script we’ve written plays out.”

They both walked back in.

My phone rang. Deji again. My husband.

“Hello, Deji. I’m sorry. There’s a situation here. It’s… intense.”

“It’s okay. Is everyone there?”

“Yes… though Morayo just left.”

“Don’t let that be you, Mololuwa. You can’t afford to get angry. We need that money. We need to have our babies.”

His words sank deep.

He was right.

I was suffering from vaginismus—a trauma-triggered condition from my past with Tobe. I hadn’t been able to make love with Deji since we got married. He had been patient, but his family wasn’t. So Deji suggested a surrogate. His idea: “If we can’t share a bed, at least let’s share children.”

We needed this money…to afford the surrogacy process, to silence his parents, to save our marriage.

“I know. I’m on it,” I replied, trying not to cry. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright. Be good… Don’t come home without the money,” he said, chuckling…but we both knew it wasn’t a joke.

As I hung up, I looked around.

If I wanted to go home with anything, I had to be smart.

I was the least threatening person in this family.

No one would suspect me if I took matters into my own hands…

To be continued.…

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Written by Opeyemi Akintunde