"Mama, you're joking, right?" He gave a strained smile, trying to find any trace of emotion on her face that would tell him this was a big fat joke.
He desperately prayed that any moment now, she would burst out laughing, patting him on the shoulder, mocking his twisted face, but—no.
She remained with a serene expression plastered on her face.
His knees gave out beneath him, and he fell from the chair to the floor, kneeling. The chair screeched as it was sent back, but all that did not matter.
"Mama, please, please not my child!" He clasped her hands, enclosing them with his.
"Not my Jidenna!" He cried, his voice filled with desperation. "His mother will kill herself if she knows. I can't lose both my son and my wife."
"Instead, if god, Agwu, is looking for a body, let him use mine, but not my son, please."
His cries were met with silence before she replied in a grave but steady tone, "I understand, my son." Her hand, which was in his clasp, gripped his. "But we do not choose."
That tone was familiar to him; at this point, he knew he wasn't talking to his mother but to the king of Umu Agwu¹.
She added, "If I could, I would give god, Agwu, my old bones," with a chuckle, loosening up the tense atmosphere.
"But all these are assumptions based on the signs that we were told to look out for, and unfortunately, Jidenna checked all the boxes."
"Don't you remember, the specialness of his birth, my son. He was born with glowing golden eyes and white dread, there was also faint blue lines around his body which faded soon after his birth"
"All these were the signs for us. What we have been hoping for" she sighed,
"But, we only saw them once after that making me doubt if it was an illusion"
"But there is a chance—a 90% chance—that he is the one."
But all he thought was, 'There is a 10% chance he is not the one.'
Two days before she passed on, she met with his wife and his son, Jidenna, one after the other.
It was unknown what she said exactly, but he could still remember his wife's puffy red eyes and the complicated looks she sent toward her son, who played with his peers, leaving behind excited squeals and shrieks in the air.
That's why, even if he wasn't sure, he tried to give his son the best childhood he could offer, even with the limited resources at hand.
****
Jidenna, who did not know his vest had fallen, that his identity was already discovered, sat on his bed, scrolling through his phone. His free hand reached up to scratch his beard.
His right leg crossed over the left leg, shaking impatiently.
He let out a sigh, stood up from the bed, pocketed his phone, and moved out of his room to the kitchen to quench his thirst.
The blazing afternoon sun cast long rays on the objects in the room. In the kitchen, Jidenna loosened up his neckline, feeling tight and stuffy.
"Wearing a black polo on a hot afternoon was probably not the best idea," he grumbled when he heard his mother's voice from the living room.
"Eh he, Jide! What happened the last time we called you?"
"What time?" His heart quickened, feeling anxious, as he shifted from one foot to the other.
"Last week Wednesday…"
Jidenna's brain ran like a supercomputer at that moment, turning and dusting up memories, laying them out in his mind for him to examine.
Seeing his silence, she reminded him, "The day after I called you to come back home."
Like a flood of light illuminating a dark room, he remembered. The day he came to this world was a Thursday; that means Wednesday would have been the day before.
But he wasn't there!
Panicked, Jidenna missed the glint that flashed past his mother's eyes.
Much to his relief, she continued talking without questioning him any further.
"We were still talking when you promised to get back to us some minutes later, but we did not hear from you again. We called you, but you did not pick up."
"But I'm glad you are okay now, but I've told you I don't like those friends of yours at all."
At her words, his ears perked up. His figure inched closer in anticipation.
He had a feeling that the next words she would say would help him greatly.
He could not afford to miss anything she would say next.
"They don't look like good people at all," his mother's brows furrowed in worry.
Jidenna also had the same suspicions, but it was only what he had guessed. During his stay, he had made inquiries; none of his relatives lived around him.
He had not received any calls from any manager or colleague.
Though it was not the best method, it did help him.
So that meant, no relative, no co-worker, leaving only the last option—his friends.
But strangely enough, there was no recent group picture on his phone, only solo ones, the ones where he had snapped a selfie.
His mouth opened and closed, hesitating.
His mother asked, "Do you need something?"
"Have I sent you any pictures of my friends on your phone?"
He could not ask about such things in a straightforward manner!
His eyebrows went up in shock as his mother replied, seeming to not feel the strangeness of such a question.
"In fact, you have, even on that Wednesday, you sent us an image of you and your friends together."
She brought her phone, swiping it and thrusting it into his face to see…