10 Crossing intentions

Chapter 10

Crossing intentions

As the eldest son, Bayo bore the brunt of his half-brothers' resentment. They had formed a pact against him, sharing the same roof but not the same blood. A hidden agenda that only they knew had fueled their hatred toward him. Bayo's mother had given birth to him alone, adding to the tension of their patchwork family. They wished Bayo would vanish so they could claim the preeminence that he held in their culture. They blamed him for every trouble that befell them. To make matters worse, their father had rushed to marry off their youngest sister, Bayo's sole ally and friend, cutting off her bond with Bayo and leaving him more alone than ever.

Despite the discomfort he felt, both physically and emotionally, Bayo forced his eyes shut. He knew he had to rest for tomorrow's work, as it was his only means of attaining freedom.

Bayo lay in the silence of his room, wrestling with the tendrils of sleep that seemed just out of reach. Oblivious to the world around him, he didn't notice the azure glow emanating from his eyes, a luminescence that grew more vivid. It harkened back to a previous fury, one directed at Èsù for pilfering his meal, yet now there was a depth to it, an intensity that hinted at something more profound stirring within.

The following day, Bayo headed to Harvard Computing Laboratory as usual without knowing the ordeal he would face. Knowing he only had five days left, including today, he felt the urgency to speed things up.

The library book was not exactly uncomfortable, but it was a hefty read that could take a month to finish.

Bayo had a hunch that Dr. Harold, not Dr. John, had proposed it, as he had never liked him. He felt cornered by Dr. Harold, but his conduct didn't surprise him.

Dr. John had relinquished control to Dr. Harold, persuaded by his rational perspective. Bayo was clueless about Dr. John's intentions. His motive filled him with unease. However, he wished to adapt to the situation.

Bayo scanned the vast array of books while his mind raced.

At 12:35 pm, as Mrs. Christian rambled on about the taste of a white woman's mouth, disaster struck Bayo.

In Mrs. Christian's oddly awkward manner, she believed that Bayo should rejoice with appreciation for her simple existence. To her, it was a gift granted to him. Yet, she was secretly the one thankful for Bayo for being her companion. She intended to artfully weave herself into the fabric of his reality, a self-proclaimed saint with an agenda hidden beneath layers of feigned sanctity. Her ultimate aim was to probe and pry, to extract the information she sought from Bayo with a finesse that belied her true intentions.

Bayo felt his heart jolt, not at the sound of Mrs. Christian's senseless chatter but at the impending calamity that endangered to tear apart the fabric of his hard work. In a fleeting instant, his orisha's power had vanished like dew in the dawn light.

He had navigated through the sea of words in the library, charting his progress at 65%, and the prospect of reaching the shore of completion sent a thrill through his veins. Yet, fate often danced a capricious waltz, leading him astray when he least expected it.

A feeling of unease had settled in his heart the previous day; he sensed danger lurking, especially with Èsù's curse, now revealed in a way he least anticipated. What loomed ahead of him was Harvard's expulsion and American deportation and certain death in Yoruba land if he failed to resolve his dilemma.

Mrs. Christian leaned in closer, her voice laced with a melodramatic concern that was all too familiar. "Oh, dear," she exclaimed with a flourish, "what curious luminescence dances within your eyes today?" Her inquiry, though cloaked in concern, was tinged with the cringe-inducing theatrics that were her hallmark.

Bayo recoiled from her touch as his gaze pierced through her, a silent crescendo of exasperation echoing, "Will you ever pause to ponder?"

Initially, Bayo had attributed Mrs. Christian's cringe-inducing mannerisms to a bias against his skin color, a misconception he held like a veil over his eyes. But as time peeled back the layers of his judgment, he realized such superficial distinctions didn't tie to her behavior. Her penchant for awkwardness was a universal trait, sparing none in its reach — a relentless tide that washed over every shore, regardless of hue.

Bayo harbored no illusions about the woman's intrusive nature, which only compounded the gloom of his existence. With a deep inhalation, he sought the refuge of inner peace, and as his eyelids fell, he stepped into a realm unknown, a sanctum that mirrored the depths of his mind.

A moment passed, and in the hush that followed Mrs. Christian's abrupt quietude, Bayo's essence embarked on a journey beyond the tangible confines of his present reality. He traversed into a realm of enigma, a world untethered by the known, where the whispers of the unseen beckoned.

At the cosmic crossroads, Bayo stood where worlds collide. Paths of fate entwined around him, and there, Èsù reigned, staff in hand, a silent sentinel of the sacred Orita.

Upon Bayo's arrival, his heart pounding with urgency and his brow furrowed in ire, Èsù greeted him with a knowing chuckle as though Bayo's presence was a foregone conclusion.

Èsù, with a twinkle of mischief in his eye, posed a riddle steeped in shadow, "How might one recognize a Yoruba man who turns his back on his deities and heritage?" Bayo's response was a silent, searing gaze that pierced through Èsù's jest.

The corners of Èsù's mouth curled into a mocking smile as he whispered his answer, "Look for the one who shuns the Orishas and the Egungun." He spun in the air with a flourish, his movements suggesting a trove of arcane knowledge undisclosed.

Swiftly coming to rest, Èsù's demeanor shifted to one of solemnity, and he sighed, "A youth devoid of belief wanders." His finger pointed at Bayo, a playful jab at the perceived lack of direction in the young man's life.

Bayo, however, held a different view. He yearned for Èsù to abandon the enigmas and speak forthrightly. Bayo glared and voiced his grievance, "You devoured my meal and left me cursed two nights past." His hands balled into fists, silently pleading for empathy from Èsù.

"Isn't that the treatment you receive from all?" Èsù retorted with a roll of his eyes, his patience wearing thin.

Bayo's agitation was unmistakable, his teeth clenching in a silent display of exasperation. Èsù, with dismissive ease, commented, "Ah, it seems I was oblivious to the fact that it was your nourishment I indulged in. My hunger knew no bounds that day."

Èsù shook his head in contemplation, rationalizing, 'My hunger was my only companion; why else would I venture into an incomplete abode for nourishment?' A flicker of remorse crossed his mind, considering his intrusion a merciful act.

Realizing Èsù's evasion, Bayo steered the conversation toward a graver concern, "My powers have waned. Could your hex be the cause?" His gaze locked onto Èsù as his hands clenched ever tighter.

"Why was I not informed of this?" Èsù's tone softened, concern lacing his words, prompting a quiver in Bayo's lip and intensifying the fire in his eyes.

"Take heed, young Ade," Èsù cautioned, conjuring an image of Bayo's visage, the blue ring in his eyes shimmering with an otherworldly light.

Bayo frowned at the sight. Èsù chuckled slyly and summoned a portable mirror, revealing Bayo's reflection.

Bayo extended his hand to grasp the mirror, but Èsù swiftly pulled it away, his mischievous laughter growing louder.

Bayo squinted at Èsù, his mind racing through various thoughts.

Èsù heaved a heavy sigh, "You always love to receive, little Ade, but never give." Èsù remarked, referring to Bayo's anger over the food he ate.

He reached out his hand and continued, "Alright, I can give this to you, but I need a strand of your hair."

Bayo shook his head firmly.

Èsù sighed again, adding, "Remember, if you can't control your glinting blue eyes, the furious Americans might accuse you of Witchcraft." Èsù said this slowly and deliberately, emphasizing every word.

Bayo hesitated, his eyes flickering. Èsù was a nightmare, and he didn't trust a single word that came out of his mouth, even if it was a simple "good morning."

Èsù revealed an enthusiastic smile and waved his hand, causing the mirror to appear in Bayo's hand.

Bayo raised an eyebrow and stared at Èsù.

Yet, Èsù maintained his enthusiastic smile.

Bayo slowly lifted the mirror, expecting Èsù to snatch it back, but he didn't. Instead, when Bayo looked into the mirror, he saw Èsù's reflection staring back at him.

Bayo shot a piercing glare at Èsù, finding his arrogance far from amusing. However, Èsù grinned as if he had done nothing wrong, even raising his middle and index finger in a gesture of peace.

Bayo couldn't help but feel that the situation was more uncomfortable than when Mrs. Christian had pulled the same stunt.

Taking a deep breath, Bayo turned back to the mirror, only to be met with Èsù's face staring back at him. Bayo shook his head in disbelief and wondered, 'What was I even thinking?' Trusting Èsù felt like venturing into a snake-infested cave.

Once again, Bayo turned his attention to Èsù, only to witness him flashing a mouthful of glistening gold teeth that seemed to continue shining. The last time Bayo had seen him, his teeth were far from golden. There was no doubt in Bayo's mind that Èsù had made these modifications on the spot.

Glaring at Èsù, Bayo plucked a strand of his Dada hair, wincing in pain. However, to his surprise, it came out effortlessly, without discomfort.