Chapter 2: Family Tables, Bitter Spoons

One year after the marriage, Papa attitude towards Tomisin change. The man wey dey always stiff before, now dey play with am, dey joke for parlour like say na true pikin and papa dem be.

He begin show her fatherly love—carry am go buy new cloth and shoe, remember her birthday, dey tell people say he get caring daughter. At last, heart meet heart. For Sunday, as we siddon front row, the choir voice dey crack, the usher dey fan everybody with handbill, and Papa and Tomisin go dey laugh when choir miss key.

The day Tomisin call am "Papa," joy nearly make am chop extra jollof rice. Since then, he dey look me with hope, as if he dey beg make I join their happiness.

But me, I dodge him eye, I shift for chair, play with the edge of my wrapper, dey find courage to talk. I no collect the spoon wey Aunty Morayo give me, just talk softly, "Thank you, Aunty, but I dey used to fork." I carry myself like stranger for my own house, dey pretend say the food no concern me.

Her smile shake small, but she force am back, use spoon pick one piece of fried Titus fish, the aroma of egusi soup and hot pepper stew dey fill the air. My stomach twist, but I hold face.

I use serving spoon comot the fish, even remove the rice wey fish sauce touch. I do am gentle, but inside me dey scatter.

Aunty Morayo glance my papa, her eye show small complain, her body dey beg for help.

My papa just vex, drop spoon for table, look me cold: "Ifunanya, na so dem raise you? If elder give you food, you no suppose reject am! You no know?" His voice loud, echo bounce for window. Silence wrap the table like wrapper.

The meal spoil. Even Tomisin no fit chop, everybody just dey look plate.