The moment I told Ejike that dad wanted me home ASAP, he took charge. First, we went to the airport, but there wasn’t a direct flight to Owerri for that day or the next day. The earliest airliner going down East was scheduled for 17:35 and it headed to Enugu. Ejike paid for me to be on that flight, so I’d fly to Owerri from Enugu first thing the following morning. Thereafter, he called up a friend of his who lived in Enugu City for help in getting me into a comfortable place to stay for one night. He would foot the hotel bill, he said. I could refund him the airfare if I must. Before I even had time to thank him, he was whisking me into the car and racing back to his home. There was time only to pack my stuff, say goodbyes to Mommy Rose and Ifeatu, and we were off to the airport again.

“Sorry I hurried you,’ Ejike apologised during the drive. “You know, I was only trying to beat the traffic. Because the minute it’s 4 o’clock now, we won’t go there on time. I didn’t want to risk you missing your flight.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” The sooner I was at the airport, the less anxious I’d feel.

“Thanks. So, why do you think your dad is sending for you? That’s pretty unusual, isn’t it?”

“I dunno,” I mumbled, not wanting to put words to my thoughts.

Dad had never interrupted my stay with anyone. Even as a kid when I did sleepovers at Emem’s and Emem’s mom keep me a week longer, dad always let me stay the entire time. All we needed to do, and that was because I was way taller and skinnier than Emem, was to send the driver to bring me new clothes from the house. Dad was the cool parent in that department. The question was what was different this time around?

“Maybe there is one rich dude who has come seeking your hand in marriage,” teased Ejike.

I managed a smile. “Not very likely. But, let’s say that was the case, what would you do?”

“Send grenades!” He laughed, and I chuckled too to humour him. “Ok maybe not. That will be an over-kill; you could get hurt in that process. What I’d do is to challenge the dude to a duel.”

“Ah! Talk is cheap, dearest. What if the guy is one rich man’s son nko? And they offer you millions of dollars to stay out of the way?” I was trying my best to get into his make-believe mood.

“Nothing! Baby, it’s like you don’t understand how much I love you. I’d cross seven seas and seven oceans just for your love. You are mine! No amount of money will make me give you up.” He dramatized, gesticulating with his hands for emphasis.

I thought: you are a lot cheaper than that, you gave me up for a piece of Amoge’s behind. Aloud I jeered, “Abeg, watch the road joo. Na today?” No more make-believe for me.

Ejike quit kidding around after that. He drove without saying another word till we got to the airport where he hung around while I checked-in, making small talks that I didn’t respond to or needed to. Because we were early, we waited for the plane to come in at the lobby, snacking on Sharwama and Coke for lunch or as Ejike christened it “Lupper” – lunch + supper.

“You won’t be returning to Lagos before the end of the semester, I surmise,” Ejike asked, after he had tired of playing it safe.

In the company Ejike worked, the job he hated, he wasn’t entitled to any sort of leave till after six months probation. What was worse, he worked Saturdays. It meant he wouldn’t be making out of town visits. Thus, what Ejike really was saying with his question was if I’d make time for him. Honestly, it wasn’t in my immediate agenda. When Uni resumed after the Christmas break, I would be in my final year. It was my last chance to do right with my academics, especially as Dad hasn’t been happy with my results in a really long time. Gone were the days when everything revolved around Ejike. If he could up and cheat on me, he could do it again. Now was the time to look after myself.

“I can’t say. Let’s see how things go.” I replied, noncommittally.

“Okay. I’ll see how I can come visit you.” Then, he turned me to face him. Not satisfied that I was close enough to him, he drew his seat closer and cupped my face in his hands. “Trinity?”

The way he was looking at me was too intense, so full of emotions, it made me uncomfortable. I hoped he wasn’t about to propose again, because I didn’t want him knowing that I’d marry him at a heartbeat. I hadn’t totally healed from Amoge. Besides, dad may have acted out of character because something out of the ordinary had happened. Like maybe mom and Phina were waiting for me at Owerri.

“I love you,” He declared, his eyes solemn and focused on me. “I know I haven’t said it in a while, but I am utterly deeply sold out to you. In fact, I am more in love with you now than ever before. I love you so much. But I hurt you, and from the bottom of my heart, I am sorry. It will never happen again. You can hold me to my words, and I say it again: I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU.”

I was speechless. True Ejike hadn’t gone mushy on me in quite a long, long time. Simply put: he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeves. I knew he loved me, he showed it without words. Rather, he used to. Until Amoge. How was it that that girl continued to be a thorn in my fresh? When will I stop tasting bile whenever I was reminded of her? Or of her with him?

“You are scaring me, Ejike. Now, I’m afraid my plane will crash,” I joked, to dispel the moment. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I stood up. “Gotta run. That was the call for boarding.”

“No problems.” He knew what I was doing all right. If there was any doubt about that, it evaporated when I refused him walking me to the gate, choosing instead to leave him with a quick hug and peck.

Seated in the plane, I pushed all thoughts of Ejike out of my head. If indeed it was because of mom and Phina that dad summoned me, then they deserved to have all my thoughts devoted to them. I worked hard to recall every memory I’d stored of them, and played them over and over in my mind. I tried to imagine what mom looked like now. She was always so whimsy with her brisk steps, sunny smiles and fiery temper. I obviously hadn’t taken after her, so maybe Phina did. She was three years old when daddy and i left England; that will make her a nineteen years old now. Interesting. I couldn’t fathom a Phina of that age. Oh dear God, please let it be Mom and Phina, I prayed, forgive me of all my sins and grant me this one wish. But it wasn’t them that came to meet me at Owerri airport. It was Oguguo.

“Na only you come?” I asked Oguguo, while looking all over the place to see another person with him. The expectant state I was in, even seeing dad would have made my day. It said someone important was around, and dad specially needed to bring me to that person himself.

“Yes, Madam,” answered Oguguo, as he picked my luggage and moved to the back of the car.

“Wey Daddy now? E dey house?” Dad wasn’t a big fan of driving, not with Oguguo free.

“Oga go village. Your granny no too well. E be like say na malaria, but she no gree go hospital. Oga wan go take am to hospital himself.”

I was sad to hear about my grandma, but it was more concerned with another matter. “Anybody come for house?”

“Yes. One Oyibo sisi and bobo come yesterday. But the bobo don go sha. E go dis morning.”

“Abi the woman no be my Aunty Cece daughter?” Aunty Cece was dad’s elder sister who lived in London. Although her husband was fully black, her kids were so light skinned, they were often mistaken for Caucasians.

“No oh. No be your Aunty Cece pikin. I never see de girl wey come before.”

If Oguguo was ruling out Adaure or Chinatu, then it might just be Phina. But, who was the man? And why wasn’t mom with her. I entered the car, eager to find answers at home. The driveway to home was long and in the full view of anyone who was at the top balcony, vice versa for those at the road that lead to our house. That was how I sighted the figure with a book sitting on the dad’s favourite ottoman when I was still about a mile away from the gates. It was a white woman all right, but a bald white girl. The last I remembered of Phina, she had long silky locks that was shockingly platinum-blonde. I also remembered envying her hair. I was neither here nor there with my hair: not sufficiently dark to be brunette, yet not quite fair enough to be blonde, which I didn’t like at all. And I used to really hate it that my hair was curly and unruly while Phina’s was straight. Long story short, Phina was the prettier sister, who thoroughly enjoyed being the little princess everyone gawked at. People change, yes, but the Phina I knew wouldn’t for the world shave off all her hair.

Pulling into the gate, I saw that the lady wasn’t up at the balcony anymore. She was standing at the terrace, leaning on the rails, intently squinting at the car we drove in with. She must have seen us, and then raced downstairs without my notice. The woman looked nearly six foot tall and more. Her long legs probably took the steps three at a time, and racing through the sitting room in four strides. She came towards us, the minute Oguguo killed the car’s engine, in what appeared to me as a split of a second. However, her walk was as fast as it was wavering – she was so wafer-thin that the wind was threatening to carry her away. The loose halter and culottes she wore flapped angrily about her, revealing skinny limbs. The ecstatic face that grinned, at me as her hands flung open the car door, wasn’t exactly familiar. But the voice definitely was. It was an older, deeper version of one I heard as a child.

“There you are! Oh my gosh, for a moment there I thought you guys wouldn’t get here!” She was still a looker, but not of the princess kind. Not with those nose-tongue-eyebrow piercings and bold tattoos at her nape, shoulder and wrist.

“Phina?” I had to be certain. Some things were too good to be true.

“Sure thing! I look different, I know. But so do you! You are dark! Or darker! I dunno, and who cares. I’m so happy to see you.” She embraced me, tight. Her arms may be bony, but they were strong. As with the rest of her, apparently, the way she steadied me when I was crashing into her.

“Wow.” I heaved a deep breath, from collecting my nerves and recovering from the rib-crushing hug. “This is really happening?”

“Yeah, it is. But, why are we standing outside wondering about it when we can be cosy inside. Com’on. I think the rains are coming, and if last night was any indication, it’d be heavy.”

She grabbed my suitcase from Oguguo, and literarily dragged me into the house. Daddy had put her up in my bedroom, since all the other rooms had gone to Nkolika’s children. The guest room downstairs was empty, but I guess daddy wanted her to feel like family. It didn’t look like the purpose was achieved, with all her things still tucked away in her luggage, as though she was ready to skip at the drop of a hat.

“Dad’s wife has been hospitable to you?” I wanted to know, because Nkolika can be funny at times. More so, if she’d be hosting dad’s child from a previous marriage.

“Oh, she’s ok. Not the warmest individual on planet earth, I’d give that to her. But she doesn’t bother me, and I don’t bother her. I’m here for a short period, anyways, and in no mood to make enemies. Her kids are enthralled by me, though. They stare at me every chance they get. I think it’s my accessories.” She laughed, free-spirited, stroking her nose bling.

“Yes, that. Why?” It was like talking to a stranger. You want to be careful not to offend the person, yet you are lost at what things are appropriate to say.

“Dunno.” She shrugged. “Woke up one morning and felt like being a punk, I guess. At least, I’m not a Goth. Can’t begin to tell you how relieved mom is about that.”

I smiled thinly as my heart-beat accelerated to a crazy pace in the anticipation of the question I’d longed to ask since confirming Phina’s identity. “And how is she? Mom, I mean?”

“Cool. Got her divorce finalised two months ago, though they’d been separated like forever. I think she’s dating around now, or considering it. I tease her that third time’s a chance, but she ain’t buying it. Grandma died last year, you know. Guess you don’t, my bad. Anyways, grandma died last year. Cancer or the sort. Gave mom a major dose of guilty conscience about everything. But, that’s a tale for later. And boy, do I have a lot to tell. So anyways, I see you changed your name, Shelby. Every single document I found in here says “Trinity”! I’m most shocked. You thought that up?”