(eng) Nnedi Okorafor by Hello Moto (v5.0)

Author:Hello, Moto (v5.0) [Hello, Moto (v5.0)]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

His House

Coco had just lit a cigarette. She leaned back on the plush white leather couch and crossed her legs. She held her glass of champagne up to the photo of her husband on the wall. He was out. He was always out. Working. For her. She laughed, scratching under her itchy wig with her long-nailed index finger. Scritch scritch. It was spiky, dark red and short and no one in his or her right mind would wear it. She got up and looked at her reflection in the glass that protected her husband’s photo. Her skinny jeans and T-shirt fit wonderfully snug. Her face was flawless. And her hair was power.

“Mwah,” she said, blowing herself a kiss.

She ambled into the living room, where two fans were blasting. She stood very still between them, her wig’s “hairs” blowing about her face. It felt secure, despite the blowing air. She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply. Behind her eyelids, she could see. Then she began to draw it in from…

The busy street. People sitting in bustling bush taxis and perched atop hundreds of okada motorbikes. Market women walking alongside the road. The mishmash of old and modern buildings of Lagos. Disabled beggars in the road. Boys playing soccer on a field.

When she opened her eyes, they glowed a deep green and the wig glinted an electric blue. The blowing fans made the heat from her wig more bearable. Her cell phone went off and she nearly jumped. “Hellllo, Moto,” it said as it played its dance music.

“Ah ah, what now?” she muttered. But she was smiling. The wig. It always left her feeling so good. Minus the heat, which left the actual wig feeling like a burning helmet. She ran to her cell phone on the couch. It was Rain. What did she want now? In her mind, the wig showed Rain standing outside her compound looking worried. The woman always looked so worried; she should have been at the top of the world.

Coco held the phone to her ear as she brought out some lipstick. “Hello?” she said, smearing on a fresh coat. She grinned, sure of what she’d hear. She frowned. “Hello? Rain, what is it? Speak up.”

But she heard nothing. She held the phone to her face when it suddenly became like a chunk of ice in her hand. “Iiieeey!” she exclaimed, throwing it on the couch. As she stared at it, appalled, the cell phone began to dribble green smoke. A text box opened on its screen. Coco squinted, trying to read it. It looked like rubbish. But, like Philo, Coco understood what was happening.

“Oh,” Coco said, out of breath. “You want to play now, eh? OK.” She threw her lipstick on the leather seat, the lid still off. It left a smear on the pillow. “Someone will die today, o. And it will not be me.”

She disappeared.

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