New Life

They say mothers always know, but my mother never knew.

She did not know about Emeka—the customer who always bought my concoctions, not because he needed them, but because they gave him an excuse to touch me. On rushed days, it was a quick squeeze when no one was looking. On lazy days, he would lay on top of me, moving like a fish out of water until he was done.

She didn’t know about the abortion either. When I started to bleed out, I hid it well. Even as life slipped from me, even as fear clawed at my chest, my mother remained oblivious.

Much to my relief, She was not there when I woke up crying in a hospital room. The only familiar face was Aunty Lovina—sweating, groaning in pain. But when she looked at me, I saw it: pride. She took me, bloody and squirming, in her arms.

I was her daughter now. I had been given a new life.

A few weeks later, Aunty Lovina took me to see my mother. She was still mourning her loss. I hadn’t expected her to, but she did. My name was Mmasinachi, the name sounded like butter in my mouth, melting as it glided off my tongue. I was the beauty that came from God.

Mother took me in her arms and looked at me. Fear enveloped me at the thought that she would somehow recognize me, that she would see through this fragile new existence and know the truth—I had taken the easy way out. I had died only to come back shamelessly as her sister’s long sought after daughter. If I had been born a dog, my tail would have betrayed me, tucking itself between my legs.

However, she did not know. They say mothers always know, but my mother never knew.