Page 73 of Death of the Author

Her mother was inconsolable after Chinyere and Tolu pulled her off their father’s body. They sat her down in a chair, and she went limp and silent. Soon, Zelu was the only one left standing in the hallway. She had no role left to perform for the others, and no one was here for her. So she called a cab and left without saying good-bye. She went home to Msizi, who wrapped his arms tightly around her. She dragged herself into bed, pulled the covers over her head, shut off her phone, and stuffed her AirPods in her ears. She floated in space for a while. And finally, she curled up and wept.

Hours later, Msizi gently shook her awake. “It’s your brother. He’s rung a few times now.”

“Whyyyy,” she groaned, her mouth gummy. What time was it? She rubbed her face and looked at her phone as the screen lit up with yet another call. She hit Accept and brought it to her ear. “’Lo?”

“Jesus! Finally! I was about to come over there!”

She squeezed her eyes shut and scrunched her nose, trying to bring some feeling back into her face. “Was sleeping.”

“Get up. We’re all at the house. Including Uncle Ugorji, Uncle Dike,and Auntie Ozioma. They just arrived from Nigeria. Yeah, that fast, man. You need to be here.”

“Wha?”

“Just come.”

He hung up. She looked at her phone. It was 5 a.m. Yet “everyone” was at the house? Her mother had called her uncles and aunt as soon as her father became unwell. How panicked she must have sounded for them to hop on a plane right away and arrive this quickly. And still, they’d been too late.

“Dad’s gone,” she whispered. “Oh God.” And she fell all over again. She moaned with the pain of it, pushed her face into her pillow. “Dad.” She called for him, knowing he would not answer. “Daaaad.”

Msizi rubbed her shoulder. “He was a really cool guy,” he softly said, even though he hadn’t known her father well at all. “When we were dancing at Jackie and Amarachi’s wedding, he interrupted all us Zulus to dance his masquerade dance. He caused such a stir, the masquerade came out and joined. Your mother was frowning so hard.”

Zelu laughed despite herself, face still pressed to the pillow. The Zulus were having their moment, and her father had stolen it to make it an Igbo moment, annoying her Yoruba princess of a mother. It was so like him.

“He was a real cultural man, and he raised progressive children who would evolve the culture,” Msizi said. “That’sbeautiful, Zelu. He has earned the right to rest and wander. It’s a terrible loss for those he left, but we will all celebrate his life, too.”

Zelu was sobbing again, but it felt better this time. It felt like release.

Then Msizi had to ruin it by adding, “And you won’t let your family press you down.”

She lifted her face and rubbed her runny nose. “I’m not—”

“Stop,” he warned gently. “I know you, and I know your family. I know how it went. They love you, butdon’tlet them press you down.”

Then she remembered her brother’s urgent plea. “I have to go there right now.”

Msizi raised an eyebrow. “Why? It’s early.”

She was already turning to grab her exos. “I don’t know. Family meeting. Some relatives just arrived to stay with my mom or something.”

“You have to go now?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

She paused, turning sharply toward him. “No.” She tried to make it clear in that one word that this was not up for discussion. This was something she had to do on her own. Msizi would just try to shield her.

He nodded. He got it. “I can’t convince you to get more sleep first, can I?”

“I just...” The exos powered up, and she stood, moving toward her dresser to grab a clean shirt. “Something’s going down. I need to be there... for once.”

Msizi lowered his chin. “Ah, there’s the guilt.”

“Stop.”

He sighed and stood up. “Keep your phone close, Zelu. Answer if I call.”

“Fine, fine,” she agreed as she fished a wrinkled T-shirt from the drawer.

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