AMANDA

I'd grown quite fond of Amanda, my wife's niece. She was my sole companion since Favour found a job that kept her out until very late in the night. When she first arrived Lagos, the principal at her new school had advised us to enroll her in JSS1, a far cry from the SSS2 in which she'd been back at the village. Now she'd moved up to JSS2 and was quickly developing into a woman. A few of her classmates already teased her and called her an early bloomer.
"Uncle welcome," she'd say, and grapple me each time I returned from work. She was a heavy hugger, so you had to have consumed about five wraps of fufu to withstand the power behind her hug.
"Ooooooh! How are you?" I'd ask, struggling to retain my balance.
"Fine, uncle."
"Good. Take this to my room and bring me my food, I'm famished."
I'd pass her my briefcase and plant myself in the wooden chair in the dining room, my weight making it squeak as it scraped the tiled floor.
"Thank you," I'd say, rolling up my sleeves as she set the food before me. Then I'd settle into the plate of pounded yam and vegetable soup.
She'd sit on the red couch across from me and begin to write in a book and I'd ask: "Is that an assignment from school?"
"Yes," she'd say and scratch her head in frustration. "Me I don't understand it o."
"What subject?" If she said Math, I'd yawn and feign fatigue because Math and I had never been friends. "Amanda, I'm really tired now. Don't worry, come later so we can rub minds and do it together." I'd smile uneasily and  head for my room, making sure to avoid her eyes as I went.
"By the way," I'd turn around sharply like I'd  forgotten something, "the food was tasty."
She'd grin and thank me, but she never came to my room anyway.

Last week, Amanda and I repeated this ritual and after a while, there was a rap on my bedroom door.
"Yes? come in," I said, as I sat up on my bed. I was shocked to see her sobbing as she came in. "What's wrong with you?"
There was no reply.
"Did you hear me? What's wrong?" I moved toward her and helped her sit on Favour's makeup chair.
"Uncle," she said, sniffling, "I can't do it."
"Do what?" I asked, perplexed.
"Aunty will kill me if I do it," she continued, hyperventilating as she spoke.
"Ok, calm down and talk to me. Why will your aunt kill you?"
"I cannot rub mind and DO IT with you."

                                                                                   By: Oguche  Joseph.