When Lamide first suggested coming home with me to keep me company till Ejike came home, what came to my mind was ‘why’. Visiting her had been a civil gesture. She didn’t have to return the call, at least not so soon. Besides, it wasn’t much of a visit, what I did. I had come in intending to stay the barest time with them, only to end up feeling like an intruder. All the while I was there, her sons and daughter were running in and out from under her skirt and Debo was yelping at his video game. I wanted to be gone from the house sooner than I had in mind. Then, to see Lamide closing the door behind herself and announcing that she’d be hanging out with me for a while. I was truly alarmed. What if the little ones insisted on coming with her? How would I handle it? Smile and lie that they were all welcomed? I was so relieved beyond measure when Lamide shooed them back into the apartment, and announced to Debo that they were now his headache till she was back.

            “Children can drive you insane, take it from me,” Lamide muttered under her breath. But, she was loud enough for me to hear. Was she addressing me? Was I expected to make a comment in support of that? Or against? I tittered instead.

            “This is marvellous!” She exclaimed as I ushered her into the sitting room. “I am so impressed right now. So very impressed, I tell you. My God, look at this! Did I just walk into Celebrity Homes?”

She was walking from one corner of the room to the other, admiring everything, touching everything, and making me exceeding nervous and self-conscious in the process. It wasn’t the first time someone was gushing over our home. Many of Ejike’s clients and staff made it a duty to gasp at our decor when they called on us. But, those were people who wanted something from Ejike or those he wanted something from. Of course there admirations would be exaggerated. They would have to make it so. It was written all over Ejike’s face, as clear as daylight: his home was his price trophy. I hated that. Most of all, I hated that attention.

            “Thank you,” I responded, thinking of ways to distract her. “What can I get you?”

            “Nothing, please. All I want now is peace and a clean house. Being here is making me miss the days when I lived for scrubbing and polishing. Today, I can’t be bothered. Not when there’s a child all too ready to turn the entire house on its head the second I’m done. When you’ve boys, I swear, you get sore tempted to rent them out. They’ve indoctrinated Rissy now. She thinks she’s a boy. I give her one day, just one day. That’s the day I’ll flog the devil out of her if she breaks any more glassware. I’ve had it up to here with her, with all of them in short. Ah ah, what is it?”

I was horrified. Why was this semi-stranger lamenting to me for? I didn’t want to hear what her brood got up to. Besides, how should I respond to her even if I did? Tell her they’d grow out of it? And if they don’t? For starters, what did I know about children? I had pretty much steered clear of my dad’s offspring. I didn’t participate in their bathing, diaper duties or cheering them during their school’s inter-house sports. I was the sour-faced half-sister who was cordial with them once in a while; when she wasn’t shut up in her bedroom, that is. Emem’s kids I’d seen only once, the time she came to Lagos for a job interview and Akan was offshore at Eket. Even then, they had two nannies stationed just for their care. All I had to do was make funny faces with the girls from a distance. It wasn’t that I dislike children; I just haven’t had much close encounter with them in a really long, long time.