‘Two nights ago at his place.’
‘Well, it only took him nearly twenty years.’
Ego slapped my arm. ‘He wanted to be sure we were both ready.’
My brows shot up. ‘Was that the only reason? His parents? Do they know?’
She sighed, her weariness echoing in that single puff of air. ‘There’s something I need to tell you. I’ve been talking about this with Emeka and my therapist for a while,’ Ego said. My mother did not believe in therapists; they were for white and mad people alone.
‘Okay,’ I said, prompting her to continue.
‘I’m going on leave from work in a few days,’ she said meaningfully. ‘I’m ready to share the truth, Zina. I know you’ve purposely kept this from me, but I know about Pastor Kamsi.’
I covered my face with my palms.
‘I know about how well his ministry is doing and how wealthy he is. I’ve seen so many women share their experiences online and I feel I cannot continue to carry this baggage around with me. I didn’t do this to myself; he did, and he shouldn’t be allowed to continue living his life like nothing happened, possibly doing the same to many others like me. I know I’m not the only one. I don’t even care if I get justice or not, the world deserves to know exactly the kind of person he is.’
I held back the tears because I knew they would only make her cry too. I nodded instead and tucked my hands between my legs. ‘How do you want to go about it?’
‘Social media. It’s the only power I have. I’m putting it up on my Twitter, Facebook and Instagram.’
‘Your Facebook is still active?’ I teased. ‘People are going to be so shocked when they find out NaijaUKLawGirl is you.’
She forced a small smile. ‘I’m shutting down my Twitter account after that.’
My chest tightened; she loved that account.
She continued, ‘I know this means his parents are most likely going to object to our getting married, but Emeka says he doesn’t care, we’ll get married anyway, even if we only end up going to court. He says he’s going to support me in any way he can. He’ll repost and corroborate my story. His fintech is doing really well and he has a good enough reputation in the startup community so he hopes that will help.’
‘I’ll support you too,’ I murmured. ‘Why aren’t you asking me to?’
Ego shook her head. ‘He’s really popular, Zina. Many top politicians and celebrities attend his church. I don’t want to jeopardise your career in any way. People don’t even need to know we know each other.’
‘How can you be talking about career in this type of situation? Ehn Ego?’ I shouted. Tears slipped out the corner of my eyes before I could stop them. ‘Who was the one that gave me money to go to Onitsha ehn? Career? Don’t ever say that nonsense again.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she blubbered. We were both crying now and neither of us was sure how to comfort the other.
I thought about reckoning the following week as I typed up a note to be screengrabbed and put up on my social media accounts. Nwakaego had already made her posts the previous day, and with Emeka’s backing, it had begun to make the rounds of necessary blogs and newspaper websites. Someone had figured out who Ego’s father was and reached out to him for comment; he’d responded that he only had one daughter.
On social media, it had ignited a debate so fiery and caustic, it had descended into an all-out brawl – curses, screaming and abuse hurling at the audacity to speak against such a man:
I marvelled at the type of God they claimed to worship, if he would approve of their conduct.
But for many, it was a moment to finally share their own stories; Ego’s step forward had emboldened them to do same:
A conversation had begun, voices long suppressed demanding to be heard, for justice, for reckoning at last.
Reckoning hardly ever came for evil in our world; their sins were dismissed, washed anew as though soaked in the blood of the lamb. And I thought to myself as I clicked ‘post’ that if only this time could be different, if only reckoning could consume those it needed to. Then I waited for hell to break loose.
A jacketed lawyer delivered the suit to my address. I’d instructed my gateman to not allow anyone – regardless of status – through but everyone was afraid of lawyers. I contemplated the ill-fitting navy suit he had on and thought to myself that I could probably do a better job.
‘NOTICE TO CEASE AND DESIST’ was plastered in bold letters beneath my address on the first page of the letter. It demanded that I:
a. tender a general unreserved apology in writing for all the defamatory statements made and/or published in the past within three days of receipt of the letter;
b. tender specific written apologies for all the defamatory statements against their client;
c. refrain from further making any false or defamatory statement about their client
I thanked him, then I called my lawyer, sidestepping several missed call notifications along the way.
The comments had become as ugly as I’d expected, the back and forth insulting and inflammatory, my DMs engorged with messages I didn’t bother to check. Tare’s handle with its blue tick was emblazoned in the thick of it, exchanging words and issuing threats and vicious curses to the trolls. There was another handle I couldn’t recognise that seemed so familiar, until I realised it constructed sentences in the same manner as Marve; it was most likely her burner account. I chuckled at the irony in the bile of some of the comments – defending a supposed man of God with the very nastiness the Bible taught against. I laughed even harder, thinking of the power they ascribed their words, imagining they would land like darts, piercing and demolishing. What a waste of time, I thought – only my mother had such power.
‘Don’t read any of it,’ I texted Ego to say, and Emeka replied hours later that he’d taken her devices under his care. She was fine, oblivious to it all. I drove to see her.
Emeka left us alone in the living room, the television animated in the background as the characters in the telenovela played out their roles with passion.
