Nightmare Magazine, Issue 54 (March 2017) by John Joseph Adams

Author:John Joseph Adams
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: John Joseph Adams
Published: 2017-02-24T23:27:10+00:00

Mama was proud when I knew things grown-ups didn’t want me to know. She ruffled my hair and pulled me close when Baba’s friends looked wide-eyed at my words. She said I had a gift, that the ancestors had blessed me. I think maybe Mama was the blessing.

Remembering the kitchen knife—among other things she had me find—I’ve thought about how I could have known where it was without knowing why I knew. Perhaps I followed a trail of observations: Baba sometimes used the knives in the kitchen as screwdrivers; Baba always fixed the broken things in the house; the TV wasn’t working, and he’d tested the antenna while I played in the family room, but the picture was still skipping, and he was annoyed he’d have to unscrew the back to look inside; the next afternoon the TV was working, but I never saw him fix it and I was home all day. Perhaps I even saw the knife crossing through the room from the kitchen or my bedroom, and left it because Baba might still be using it. I am still not sure how I found things for her, if I even had a gift, but Mama impressed upon me that being a good man, using my gift wisely, would bring good fortune to us all. Mama told me, You are a good boy. I know you will be a good man.

• • • •

Mama said when we die, we join our ancestors in the spirit world stretched out over this one like a mirror, like a twin. There, joyfully reunited with our loved ones, we watch over our living family members. They give us honor and we bring them comfort. They give us prayers and we protect them from witches. They beg our advice and we nudge them in the right direction. Because of this, Mama said, no one is ever truly alone. Living or dead, we will always have family.

“Mbuyi, you cannot catch me! I am faster than you!” When my twin sees me again, I stop to wave the wire man he made, laughing. When he chases me, I run to the kitchen.

“Give that back! I said give it back!”

Mama shakes her head at us, but I see her smile as I run past her troop of steaming pots, and I am happy.

Baba is in the living room. “Mbuyi! Kanku! Stop running around this house while your mother is cooking!”

We stop. “We’re sorry, Baba,” we say with one voice.

I hide the wire man behind my back. Mbuyi wrinkles his nose at me.

“Kanku—come here.” Baba holds out his hand to my twin.

“I’m Kanku!” I almost smile. Baba still confuses us. Mama never has.

“Then you come here! Give that back to your brother.”

If I give it back, the game is over. “But Baba—”

“Don’t look at me that way,” Baba snarls, “it isn’t natural.” Baba’s face is hard, cold. It scares me. I look at Mbuyi, confused and afraid, and his face is a mirror of my own.

“Like what, Baba?” I am grateful to Mbuyi; I know he asks for me.

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