Star

Prologue - Love and Darkness

The Honda CRV coughed and spluttered its way along Adelabu Street, Surulere. It was faded black, with an engine that had long since tired of running. It was held together by all sorts of tape, and glue, along with the hopes and dreams of Angel Nnewi as she quietly prayed that today, just like the other days, the car would take them home in one piece.

"It's not that easy," Angel was saying to her daughter, honking at a man in front of her driving who was driving like a snail. "We can't just walk out and leave."

Star put her feet on the dashboard as she narrowed her eyes. Then, she folded her arms as she stared through the window beside her. "Mummy," she said quietly. "He... hurts you, and he's a bad person. We should leave."

"Star," Angel sighed, her breath leaving her like a deflated balloon. She brushed a stray braid out of her face. "He's your father, Star. And he's my husband—I can't just... leave him. You don't just leave when things get hard. My mother, she...she taught me that." She gripped the steering wheel tightly as she swerved past the man, ignoring his hand gesturing.

He was pointing to something ahead.

The groceries in the back of the car swayed this way and that as they barrelled through. Today had been Star's last day of school before her Easter break and Angel had gotten some groceries. They were going to make meat pies that evening. With extra pepper, just like Star liked them.

Star shook her head. "It doesn't matter, mummy. None of that matters!" she said. "He's still a bas—...bad person."

Angel shot a look at her daughter.

Star was never one to back down: she narrowed her eyes right back and they locked eyes.

Then, they both burst out laughing.

"You ehn," Angel said, smiling. "You're such a restless girl now, you used to be such a nice, calm child."

"Don't change the subject." Star crossed her arms, still scowling. Then, "But, tell me more about how I was as a baby. I'm sure that I was a lovely peac—"

"I was lying," Angel said, careful to look straight at the road. Their house was straight ahead.

"What?"

"You were hell wrapped in a headache wrapped in a child."

"No, I wasn't," Star said, thinking. "I've seen all those pictures, even the one where grandma was holding me carefully and everyone was staring at us." She cradled her head and looked at her mother, pouting her lips.

Angel nodded. "My mother—God bless her soul—" she said, "had just threatened to give you up to an orphanage in Enugu if you threw up on one more of her clothes. And my mother wasn't known for making jokes."

"Great people are never appreciated," Star shrugged, "just like Jesus."

Angel scrunched her eyebrows. "Did you...did you just compare yourself to Jesus Christ?"

"No," said Star. Then she thought more, "Maybe."

Angel clucked her teeth as she shook her head, stopping at a traffic light. "What kind of child do I have, Lord?"

Star managed to hug her through the seatbelts. "The best one in the world."

Angel looked down at her and smiled. "Maybe. Just maybe."

Star looked at her mother and her mother looked at her.

She had tried, and failed to think of what she wouldn't do for her. She was her world, and she knew her mother only saw the universe in her. They would have been a happy family, a perfect one, if not for him.