Naomi Eseolojor // Winner, Wilson Okereke’s Prize for Short Story, 2024
Dolapo sat on her balcony. The night sky was crammed with hover vehicles that hummed like giant bees. Yellow buses skidded through the skyway, their exhaust pipes spewing huffs of nauseating smoke. Occasionally, a passenger met Dolapo’s eyes and bowed, but she never saw the same face twice, or perhaps, she never could remember. Lately, she had been misplacing things— her keys, her wallet and was slowly losing track of time. Dolapo, at seventy three, lived alone on the top floor of a two-storey building. She rarely had visitors, so she spent long hours speaking to Titus, her virtual assistant, whose voice was starting to sound like rushing water. Her rocking chair screeched but the sofa screeched louder and was the cause of her persistent back ache. The purple and white wallpaper peeled off the walls of Dolapo’s living room, revealing the cream coloured paint and patches of white underneath. Every fitment of her home was coated with dust and although she frequently sprayed air freshener, it couldn’t cleanse the house of its musky odour.
Dolapo had promised herself she’d contact the maintenance droid or at least a cleaner, but she couldn’t find the cellphone even though the darn thing kept buzzing and beeping and waking her from her naps. Besides her cellphone, the television was the only thing functioning at optimum capacity, and it was surprisingly easy to switch on. Once, she watched a commercial about a new product, a white helmet-like device created by Relive, perfect for jogging up buried memories. The actor said the product was for old, forgetful citizens who lived alone, an accurate depiction of Dolapo. The commercial ended with the price blinking on the screen, a hundred and fifty thousand naira, only.
“Forget it,” Dolapo muttered to herself. She wasn’t going to pay that much for a fancy helmet. Even with the six-figure monthly pension she was earning, she thought it silly to invest in something like that. Before long, a strident beep jolted Dolapo from her chair and threw her into a state of frenzy. She nearly threw her back out before realising it was her cell phone. The thought of buying the helmet re-surfaced in her mind but as soon as there was silence, she rebuked the thought. Until the phone rang for five minutes straight and Dolapo was forced to march to her room and pull out her savings box. She’d been wanting to send herself to a home for the elderly but she’d have to wait a bit longer. She unlatched the box and took away the wads of crumpled naira notes. While she sorted out the cash, she sighted a dusty portrait. It had been so long since she’d stared at the picture of her late daughter, Maggie. Tears welled in her eyes as she blew the dirt from it. Three decades had passed but the misery was still fresh.
The phone beeped again and Dolapo cursed. She dropped the picture, and gathered the money into her purse.
*
Dolapo placed the carton on her dining table and instantly regretted spending so much on a helmet. As she unboxed it, a hologram of a middle aged scientist spoke. “Hello, esteemed customer. Thank you for purchasing Relive. We understand this product is in high demand by the elderly, and so we created this medium to explain step by step, how to operate this gadget. Step one: Plug in device…..”
*
Dolapo jerked awake and was startled to find she was still wearing the helmet. She took it off her head and felt a panging sensation. She was no tech wiz but she guessed it was due to electromagnetic waves from the helmet. Rubbing her head, she flitted to her mirror and combed out her grey tresses with her fingers. One look at her reflection and she could’ve sworn her head had gotten larger. A wave of dizziness caused her to sway but she gathered herself and suddenly felt a surge of strength.
Her cellphone chimed and she turned to the direction of the living room. She edged towards the sofa, angling her head, narrowing her eyes until…A-ha! She found it. Dolapo raised the phone like a trophy; a smile of satisfaction lit her face. It was a relief to know that her money didn’t go to waste. She proceeded to her room to find every other thing she’d lost when she heard the spray of water from her bathroom. She raised an eyebrow. Had she failed to switch off the shower? She followed the sound but halted when the tap squeaked shut and someone hummed a familiar tune. “Titus, is that you?” The virtual assistant had long lost access to the home automation system but Dolapo couldn’t think of a reasonable explanation for the sounds she heard.
Just then, the bathroom door creaked open. Drops of water fell on the tiles as a strange young lady wrapped herself in a towel. Dolapo’s eyes bulged when the stranger swiveled to look at her. Her limbs reverberated with a visceral fear as she struggled to stand erect. The stranger looked at Dolapo with creased eyebrows. “Mom?” She asked. “Are you okay?”
Dolapo couldn’t feel her tongue. She retreated and with one misstep, crumbled to the ground and fainted.
*
Dr. Bamidele helped Dolapo sit up so she could take a glass of water. There was no sign of a girl in a towel so Dolapo assumed she was hallucinating. She heaved a sigh of relief.
“You need to take things easy,” Dr. Bamidele said, looking at her through concave spectacles. His afro hair possessed strands of white and in his two-piece suit, he resembled the host of a famous TV show. He pressed a button on his smart watch and scanned Dolapo.
“You seem fine. Every organ is in perfect condition. How often do you take your vitamins?”
“Three times, daily.”
The doctor stared at her in suspicion.
“Do not look at me that way, Bami. My memory might not be sharp but I never forget to take my vitamins.”
The doctor raised his hands in surrender, “Okay. I believe you. Just be more careful.Your blood pressure spiked for a moment but you’re stable now.” He gave a full report of Dolapo’s health to his virtual assistant.
“If I may ask, what exactly got you agitated?”
Dolapo scoffed. “It might sound silly but I thought I saw my daughter’s ghost.”
“It must be because you miss her. You’ll be fine. Try to rest. If there’s anything you need, you can call me.”
The doctor made his way to the door. As he reached the threshold, Dolapo stopped him.
“Wait! How did you know that I had fainted?”
“Someone sent a message to me, saying you had passed out. It must’ve been one of the neighbours.”
Dolapo stiffened as she watched the doctor egress.
At the corner of her room, Maggie sat with a look of guilt in her eyes. “Don’t worry, mother,” she muttered. “I won’t stress you. I promise to take care of you, as I always have.”
Dolapo forced herself to sleep again and again, thinking Maggie was a figment of her imagination but every time she opened her eyes, her late daughter was staring at her. Maggie had sparkling hazel brown eyes and a mass of thick curly hair that fell bountifully over her shoulders. The dead didn’t age and thus Maggie remained in her twenty-year-old body and was still draped in the same black jumpsuit she wore when she passed away.
Maggie’s presence filled Dolapo with an ecstasy of emotions—fear, joy, confusion, worry. Ghosts existed but they couldn’t hold towels or send messages to family doctors. Or could they? In the seven decades of her life, Dolapo had witnessed flying cars, pens that sliced through steel and teleportation. Perhaps ghosts had evolved too.
Cutting through her thoughts, Maggie brought a tray of fried yam and fish sauce.
“I made them for you,” she said, placing it at the edge of Dolapo’s bed. Dolapo looked between the food and Maggie, wondering whether or not the food would go right through her as it did in movies.
“They are just how you like them, mom.”
“Spicy,” they both said and cracked a smile.
Dolapo took a bite and was both surprised and disappointed that it didn’t faze through her. The spice burned her tongue but left behind a sweet aftertaste.
Out of sheer curiosity and bewilderment, Dolapo asked, “How did you get here?”
Maggie shrugged. “I don’t recall every detail but I was in an Uber on my way to the university. The driver was cool. He played my favourite kind of music and we chatted about the constraints of studying in the country. It was a bubbly conversation until he lost control of the steering wheel. The next thing I remember was appearing in your room.”
Dolapo explained to Maggie that she had passed on from a car crash thirty years ago. Maggie stared at her palms with widened eyes.
“So am I a ghost?”
Dolapo didn’t know what Maggie was. However, the harsh reality was that her daughter was dead and the lady standing in front of her wasn’t real.
The next day, Maggie explored the house, fixing whatever seemed out of place. She contacted the maintenance droid to take care of the peeling wallpapers and groaning furniture. She also offered to help with the house chores for as long as she was around. Maggie was the type of girl who couldn’t stand a lack of order. Back when she was alive, she’d made sure every object stayed in its rightful spot. The kitchen sparkled because of her attention to detail and the soothing smell of lavender diffused the dampness that once encircled the living room. Dolapo hadn’t stayed in a house so clean in thirty years.
“Don’t you go for weekly church meetings anymore?” Maggie asked Dolapo. “You never missed sessions like that.”
Dolapo let out a dry laugh. She hadn’t stepped into the church, any church in so long.
“What about your frequent visits to the spa? Your skin is irritated and flaky and your hair is beginning to fall out.”
“I’m seventy three years old, Maggie. I’m not as young as I used to be.”
At night, they watched the sky together. Again, polite passengers bowed to greet Dolapo, but they appeared to not notice Maggie’s presence. Dr. Bamidele, too, couldn’t see her. That could only mean she was only visible to Dolapo. Dolapo wasn’t surprised, especially when she seemed like a being conjured from her memories, a clone her mind created to either comfort or agitate her. As they watched the vehicles swerve by, Maggie inquired about her former neighbourhood. She mentioned a few names that made Dolapo’s heart swell with glee. The people they once lived with were like family. Outsiders brimmed with jealousy at their closeness but after the sudden demise of Dolapo’s daughter, she was compelled to sever ties with them all. It was a painful but necessary process to ensure that Dolapo avoided pain because their home and the neighbourhood was a source of anguish. It was the reason she lived alone, to avoid every recollection that carried agony with it.
Sadly, even after thirty years, she was still in the process of letting go and moving on.
The next few days were filled with conversations and questions regarding their past. Maggie asked about her old friends at the university, Glory, a compact girl who liked to spend hours observing herself in the mirror, and Funke, a bespectacled nerd who Dolapo always begged to help her daughter with schoolwork. The trio went everywhere together, slinging tote bags over their shoulders and gossiping about cute boys and annoying lecturers. Maggie beamed with excitement when she learnt that her friends were married with grown kids. She’d wanted to see their old neighbourhood, her old school and her old folks but Dolapo didn’t think it was necessary since she hadn’t been there in so long.
Still, Maggie pressed. “Please, mom. Let me have a look at them. Who knows how long I will remain with you. I’m supposed to be dead, aren’t I? It’s only a matter of time before I return to the afterlife.”
A quiver ran down Dolapo’s spine as she pondered Maggie’s words. After hours of thought, she’d figured out how Maggie was created. It was the overpriced helmet. It had to be. It wouldn’t take anything strenuous to send Maggie back. All Dolapo needed to do was contact the help centre and they’d come over to modify the gadget. Within a day, everything would go back to normal. She’d have no friends, an untidy home and no Maggie.
Maggie touched Dolapo with icy hands. It was the first time their bodies had made contact and it felt like a block of ice had landed on her wrist.
“I was asking, mom, if we could visit our old neighbourhood.”
“Oh. Of course we can. We’ll set a date.”
“How about tomorrow?” There was a minute of contemplation.
“Okay. Tomorrow it is.”
Titus came in handy in setting the alarm clock. The virtual assistant no longer sounded like rushing water and had regained control of the home automation system. At 10:00a.m, Dolapo rummaged through her wardrobe. For months, she’d worn nothing but nighties and so every outfit was either too bright, too revealing, or too tight. Maggie knelt beside the heaps of clothes. “You know what, mum. Go take a shower. I’ll have your clothes sorted.”
In an hour, Dolapo walked out the front door in boyfriend jeans and a powder-blue top. Her hair was tied in a high bun and she wore droopy silver earrings. By the time they exited the building, Dolapo felt like a youth again. Abule-egba had undergone a massive evolution since Dolapo’s last visit. High-rise buildings dominated the landscapes, stretching so high they nearly touched the clouds. Down below were lands filled with lush, trimmed grasses, pink roses and decorative trees. At Abule-egba, hover vehicles flew close to the ground and their silencers puffed out colourless smoke. The atmosphere was fresh and breezy and every lungful of air was invigorating.
“So much has changed,” Maggie said, crouching to touch the roses. “Do you think we can still find our old house?”. Dolapo took out her cellphone and asked Titus for directions. As they reached their old Street, Maggie hurried down in search of their home. Dolapo couldn’t run at her age and she didn’t wish to. Her surroundings were nostalgic and she needed to savour the experience. There was this gym three blocks away from her home that she visited thrice a week. She could see the treadmill through the glass, the treadmill she’d spent hours on, with the hope of whipping herself into shape. Her motivation then, was that Maggie’s father left her for a younger, curvier woman and so she swore she’d become the best version of herself.
There used to be a convenience store by her left but it had been transformed to a hair salon for rich and snobby Lagosians. Dolapo kept walking until she came to the building that used to be her old home. It had recently been converted to a block of flats. Cracks by the sidewalk reminded Dolapo of Maggie’s failed attempts to ride a bicycle and the countless times she had tripped over that same spot. Maggie sat at the sidewalk and stared at her hands in horror.
Dolapo lowered herself beside her daughter’s ghost.
“What’s wrong?”
“My hands,” Maggie said. “They’re fading.”
That evening, Dr. Bamidele returned to check on Dolapo. His concern stemmed from a cordial friendship he and Dolapo shared in the past and so his visits to her home weren’t strictly professional. The doctor’s mouth fell open as he gave Dolapo a once over.
“You look gorgeous, Dolapo. Did you go on a date?”
Dolapo chortled. “Yes. I went out with Maggie. She has been with me these past few days.”
Dr. Bamidele took a step back. “You saw your late daughter again?”
“She’s right there, waving to you at the corner.”
Dr. Bamidele turned to look. “There’s no one there, Dolapo.”
He scanned her head with his watch. “What did you expose your brain to?” When there was no response, he searched the living room and found the package from Relive. Dolapo dragged the helmet away from him.
“You used this device, didn’t you?” Dr. Bamidele asked.
“That doesn’t concern you, Bami!”
“I’m trying to help you. Exposure to devices like this could cause cancer. Now, give it to me.”
“Give it to him, mom. I don’t want you to end up with cancer,” Maggie cried. From her fingers to her elbows were translucent and she struggled to stand erect. Mr. Bamidele took advantage of the distraction and snatched the helmet. Dolapo tried to wrestle with the doctor but he was much stronger than she was. He steadied her.
“Don’t do this to yourself, Dolapo. I know your daughter’s death traumatised you. We’ve all had our fair share of losses, trust me, but this thing can drive you mad. I’m sure Maggie wouldn’t want you to go through that.”
Dolapo looked to Maggie who nodded in agreement. Her feet and knees had become transparent and her eyes were slowly shutting. Maggie sank to the couch, writhing. Whatever was responsible for her existence, was beginning to wear off. Dolapo stood transfixed. She was torn between losing her daughter again and endangering her health.
Don’t worry, mom,” Maggie said. “I’ll be fine. Take care of yourself. I would love you to live your last days in joy and make the most of your life. Soon, we’d meet again and then, there’d be nothing to keep us apart.”
Dolapo’s arms dangled in resignation. “She’s fading away, Bami. Maggie is fading away.”
Dr. Bamidele sighed. “She’s not real, Dolapo. She never was.” Tears blurred Dolapo’s vision as she watched her daughter’s ghost fade into oblivion.
*
Dolapo placed her cellphone beside a stack of neatly folded clothes. Within the past week, she had received several messages from old friends and well-wishers, most of whom were prompted to reach out after supposedly seeing someone who looked like her around the Abule-egba area. Dolapo hadn’t realised how much she’d missed them until she heard the fruity voice of the gym owner.
She arranged the clothes neatly in her box and snapped it shut. Just then, Dr. Bamidele’s message popped up in her notification. I’ll be arriving soon. Hope you’re ready. Dolapo jumped to her feet and smoothed her bell-bottom jeans. Maggie had inspired a love for casual wear, droopy earrings and high buns.
Dolapo pulled down the curtains and turned off the lights. She would miss sitting on the balcony and watching the cars drift by. Her arrival at Elvis’s home for the elderly would mark the beginning of a new life and she was excited for it.
Soon, Mr. Bamidele’s car honked. Dolapo tucked the portrait of Maggie inside her purse and bade Titus goodbye.
Naomi Eselojor is a speculative fiction writer from Nigeria. She is the winner of the 2023 Utopian awards for short fiction. Her works are in and forthcoming at African Ghost stories anthology by Flame Tree Press, 2022 Best of Utopian Science Fiction Anthology by Android press, Omenana Magazine, Lolwe, Hexagon Magazine, Improbable press, Dark Matter Magazine and elsewhere. Her works have been nominated for Pushcart prize, Ako Caine prize and the Utopian awards. Naomi lives in Lagos, Nigeria with her family.