SOLOMON'S BRIDGE {Part I}

FANNY *8*

IDARA

"Hey, Lady Eddie, what's up?"

"I'm good, Byron!"

"Going out-?"

"In a rush, too!"

"Oh-ok, listen, I'm going offshore this afternoon, so, you recall The Papa talking about the back fence? Okay, so everyone is contributing towards it. The boy will fix it for us, next weekend, just, to give you a heads up, yeah?"

You hear their cheerful banter as you step outside your door, tilting your head to the side in an effort to hear some more. It sounds like Big Time is still waiting for the drop. Victorious Maye is late, he usually delivers a good stash before six am... Your lips thin out in a tight frown as you step back quietly into your apartment. Your hands are trembling, nothing you do will stop it; nothing except a slim rolled up joint or a tall glass of spyritus stawski. Yeah. You are an addict.

You are also Candy Cool, a.k.a Idara Maye Hatta! In school, you were Idarabong Aydee, most beautiful girl in University of Benin, 1993. All the time. Different names. Hiding, hiding, living in the dark, always hiding. You tell yourself, every day, that there is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with you. You bite your lip too hard, it draws blood.

The sting hurts in a soothing way, but you don't like the taste of blood, it trickles down your chin and drops on the floor's yellow tiles. The problem is not you, it's the whole world that has quietly gone mad, leaving you all alone; a jarring red tomato in a sea of acrid yellow. Just like this blood splatter, on this yellow tile.

You're not like anyone! You are not like Edima, who is a religious nutcase. Actually, you kind of... admire her grit. She has solid backbone. But they hate her. They hate that she's up at dawn, daily... and the holy water...she sprinkles it around the building...they hate it.

You're not like Big Time the big secret, or Bobby, who is in love with Jessica the snoop who, is in love with someone else, you're not like Nkese, Senor, Eghosa, Antonia or... Nurudeen! The man who makes your blood boil. Some days, you know the reason why, and they can't wait to tear him into bloody shreds, but some days like today, you just don't remember at all.

No, you are not like any of your neighbours!

You are different, very, very different from everyone. You don't need anyone. You don't need Fanny Duke. You don't have to do the things you do to keep her fancy uptown friendship... Like, driving her aunt's Jeep to their charming house at Beach Sand Avenue. You're just- just- helping her to return it b-e-c-a-u-s-e- - - - she'll be so busy at the salon getting her claws and talons done, tomorrow. Hmmmph.

You volunteered to drive the Jeep back (replay this fact on a loop;) You volunteered to drive her aunt's Jeep back... this mantra becomes your meditational deluge, under which you begin to drown, your brain struggling against the waves, fighting not to shut down. Don't shut down!

A niggling suspicion won't let your eye stop twitching; but,
Fanny Duke has lots of men at her disposal. Guards, few domestic help, a brand new fiance, step brothers and so many male step cousins! She can pick anyone she wants to return the Jeep, it doesn't have to be you...

Is that fight still (yes) on your mind? Are you trying to (yes) break the ice, because, your job rating is dropping like a landslide. You don't mind a bit of groveling, maybe, you can use a little of her clout with the governor, her dear father.

You tell yourself these things as the lime green clock high on the wall slowly winds the hours down. You pace evenly around your room, chewing your nails, pulling at your hair, and muttering strange things your ears don't want to hear, things your mind is not willing to remember. A knock on your door startles you to a stand still, your hot brain still spinning in a dizzy wave until the slow, winding, disorienting stop, in front of the mirror. Wild afro. Saucer size eyes. Sheer champagne lace nightgown askew. You look like a frightened deer caught in headlights.