In the cold silence of the starless night, the bed creaks slowly—almost wearily, as Ife clenches in, shudders, and relaxes. It creaks, again, as he rolls over on his back to stare at the ceiling, pretending he does not hear the bed complain. He is too exhausted to save it anyway.  

The pots and pans too rattle from the kitchen in audible fury, making the girl raise her face.

“Rats?” she asks.

He nudges the question away with a sneeze, wondering how he could possibly say that it was his dead mother speaking to him through the noise. It was his first time bringing a girl home for sex and his mother was simply up against him, revolting, in the manner she would have done if alive and with him.

If the rains were to come, they would wash the ceilings open and strain in upon them as their bodies tangled in the dark. He heaved a sigh of relief that the skies were dry at least—if for anything, it was the one thing done right.  

“The noises, do you still hear them?” He turns to her.

“No.”

“Good.”

He takes her hands and holds them up against her ears as he mounts her. Uncertainty makes his bones feel like extra weight, fear congealing in his throat. He imagines his mother in a corner of the room, sulking, watching her son make love to a stranger.

Frank Nkem Onuoha is an engineering student at the Federal University of Technology, Owerri. He cherishes every single moment spent with family.