CHAPTER EIGHT- AND TIME COMES.

“Uloma.” 

The voice drifted to her half-awake consciousness. For a second, she pretended that she was human again, that a mother who thought the world of her was cradling her in her arms and singing her lullabies. 

“Okay, this is beginning to worry me. Should we call someone?” 

Uloma heard Ekama say, and just like that, she was back to her reality, or what passed for reality in this realm. How rude of Ekama to wake her up from her perfect dream, Uloma mused, and opened her eyes. 

“Give me room, what is it? Have you never seen a beautiful woman before?” 

Why were they standing over her so close like that? Uloma shoved her friends away, and Ekama slapped Uloma’s arm in response. 

“What is your problem?” 

She scolded. Uloma sucked in a sharp breath and held her arm where Ekama had slapped her. Ekama rolled her eyes. 

“I will slap you for real if you ever scare me like that again.” 

Ekama threatened. 

“Everything for you is anger; you are the type to beat a child because they hurt themselves.” 

Uloma said, sitting up, still holding her arm. It wasn’t the first time she had said this to Ekama, so Ekama did not even respond to her accusation. 

“What happened?” 

Abali said, his eyes were dark brown, and if eyes could drown her, she would have drowned in that moment. He looked at her as if he were terrified, and for a second, she could see the man that Kama had described —the man affected by her absence. 

“My mother was here.” 

Uloma replied, looking away from those eyes that gave her metaphorical heart a start. How did her heart race just by looking at a boy? This boy? She wondered, even as she tried to ignore him, to ignore herself. She could feel herself wanting to wrap her hands around him, wanting to reassure him. 

“Are you okay?” 

He asked, coming to sit beside her on the ground, his concern screaming through his words. 

“Mhm.” 

She nodded, smiling her reassurance, but what she wanted to tell him was that, in that moment, she would burn the worlds down to be with him; all he had to do was say the words. 

“Ulom, no offense to her, but what was your mother doing here?” 

Ekama interrupted, Uloma roused herself from Abali’s scrutinizing gaze, and shrugged. 

“Who knows what my mother does? Hijacking my mind rather than talking to me makes me think I don’t care to find out.” 

“Maybe she just wanted to check up on you. See how you are doing with your transition back. She is your mother, no matter what you think of her.” 

Abali offered an explanation nobody asked for. His eyes were still their natural brown. She knew how uncomfortable it was for him to see with his own eyes. Was he that worried about her? 

“Why do you always defend her?” 

Ekama answered before Uloma could; she gave Abali one of her signature looks of disapproval, but it didn’t seem to bother Abali. He was used to the look. 

“Abali, you are defending her again.” 

Uloma told him. 

“Come on, Abali defends everyone in authority. We know that just dropping in to check up isn't the kind of thing Death does; that woman always has a purpose.” 

Ekama said, dropping in with an air quote. Uloma nodded her agreement, but what was her mother’s reason for ‘dropping in’ this time? Ekama was right, her mother always had a purpose. 

“So did she tell you what her reason was?” 

Ekama asked, echoing Uloma’s thought. Uloma hesitated for a second; bits and pieces from their encounter were nagging at her. As Uloma thought, her hairstyle began to change. Ekama raised an eyebrow. 

“That has slow death written all over it, your mother’s signature Ulo.” 

 Uloma knew Ekama was right, but meeting with her mother had been like those vivid dreams that evaporate after you are fully awake, no matter how hard you try to remember them.  

“I don’t know.” 

Uloma said, thinking hard and shrugging. It was eluding her, in the most tantalizing way, as if all she had to do was reach out to the memory of her mother to grasp it, but every time she came close, it shimmied away. 

“It feels like I am forgetting something important.” 

Uloma said dreamily. Why had her hairstyle changed? The memory of a hand combing through her hair nagged at her. Her mother’s hand? Trust her mother to leave Uloma with more questions than answers. Speaking of questions, her frustrated mind quibbled. Uloma’s eyes caught the back of her hand, the scar! But Ekama was her best friend for a reason. She had an irritating way of knowing Uloma’s every tic. Her eyes caught on to Uloma’s before Uloma’s question was even fully formed.  Before Ulo could ask about her scar and what it had all been about earlier, she could already see the fight Ekama was gearing up for. Well, no matter, she could punch back if necessary, but she needed some kind of answer about something. Anything 

“My scar, anyone?” 

Uloma asked daring Ekama to fight her on this; she had a right to know, but they were all treating her like a fragile child. Abali’s crows cried, and the wind picked up around them. 

“We will be late to Emenike’s class, Ulo, and I don’t think that is something any of us wants.” 

Abali said in a tone that made Uloma want to hit him. The fact that she was willing to go extinct for him a second ago, just like he had said to her all those years ago, did not escape her. 

“Then we will be late for the class. And what does it matter to you, you are practically the henchman for all the Emenikes, they will easily let you off, please, I beg, quit stalling.” 

She looked at Ekama, who was still sizing her up, but Ulo was done with being kept in the dark. 

“Look.” 

Ekama sighed. 

“I don’t think you should hear it from us.” 

She said, managing to enrage Uloma even more. Uloma watched as an army of red ants slowly disappeared into the dying cornfield, oblivious to the small battle being fought by the three friends. 

“So why wouldn’t you let Asiya tell me then?” 

“Ulo.” 

Abali called.  

“We want to tell you, I promise, but please trust us, this is not something you want to hear from us.” 

He pleaded; his eyes were now their usual unseeing grey. 

“All you are doing is scaring me and making me even more curious.” 

What were they so scared of telling her? She wanted to push, but the look in Ekama’s eyes was almost pleading, and Ekama did not do pleading. What was frightening them so much? 

“So, who can tell me then, if you both won’t? My mother? My sisters? Emenike?” Who?” 

Uloma asked. She was no longer going to try to make them tell her, but she also did not want to sit here and listen to them hide secrets from her. Uloma stood up and dusted off her behind, her beads jiggling as she swept her hands from side to side. The stupid rain started up again, but Uloma decided it was perfectly fitting because it suited her mood. 

“Okay, Uloma, how about Umaji?” 

Ekama suggested. Uncertainty tainted the way her words sounded coming out of her. Uloma looked over at her friend, a puzzled expression on her face. 

“I know you think we are keeping this from you because we want you in the dark, but this is one of those bits of knowledge that makes me wish I did not know everything.” 

“And what difference would hearing it from Umaji make?” 

Uloma asked, still puzzled. 

“Yes, what difference might it make?” 

Abali echoed Uloma; he looked visibly annoyed. 

“Hear me out.” 

Ekama pleaded with Ulo, ignoring Abali. 

“I know we think she is creepy.” 

Ekama started. 

“Because she is.” 

Uloma quipped. 

“So true.” 

Ekama chuckled to herself. 

“But we like her creepy and she can see the future, so maybe she could not only tell you what you want to know, she may be able to explain why.” 

“Yes, but cosmic beings don’t have futures.” 

Uloma heard the word come out of her, her metaphorical brain not skipping a beat, ‘but what if,’ a tiny voice in her head asked. 

“I don’t think it's a good idea.” 

Abali volunteered, his concerned eyebrow furrowed. Uloma knew as much as Abali that every time he went up against Ekama, Ekama won. 

“Well, no time to debate it now, Emenike means business today.” 

She felt the eerie tingling as she spoke, the frustrated looks on the faces of her friends as they started to fade, mirrored the way Uloma felt, but frustration at Emenike was nothing to the feeling of nothingness as she disappeared into oblivion. She heard Ekama’s disembodied hiss before it all went blank. 

~ 

Less than a second later, they found themselves in a grassy area surrounded by groups of students in various stages of annoyance. 

“Silence!” 

Emenike boomed. There was almost complete compliance, but total compliance cannot exist in the same frame as Ekama. Her groan elicited raised eyebrows from Emenike. 

“Now, if we have all shown me how happy we are to be here.” 

He said, his eyes roaming through the small group of annoyed students. Uloma suppressed a groan. She hated many classes, but this was the worst. Practical Cosmogony was where Uloma demonstrated to the realm how different she was. She looked around and suppressed a sigh this time; at least they were in the Scene of Youth. The grass was more brown and yellow than anything, and the trees were dwarf palm trees. There were very few of them, spaced out to give off the impression of more, but the mountains just in front of them and the elusive spring patiently gushing away nearby made this place a little easier to stomach.  

“Prefects to my side.” 

Emenike was saying. It irked Uloma that he never bothered to introduce the lesson to the class and treated everything like a military drill. 

“I can see that we are still the lazy, uncooperative bunch.” 

He shouted, making Uloma jump. The more senior prefects were milling over to him. Abali, always the teacher’s favorite, was already by Emenike’s side, his chest puffed out, his hands behind his back, even his crow today looked impressive. Ekama rolled her eyes. 

“Goody, goody.” 

She muttered, and Uloma tried not to laugh. 

“I guess I will be seeing you when the military drill is over because there is no way he is pairing you with me.” 

Ekama’s voice sounded like a near hiss. Uloma was doing everything she could not to laugh. Ekama’s hot head was only rivaled by Emenike’s stoic personality; you couldn’t tell by watching them, but he was her favorite Emenike, even Emenike in his star robes and quirky hat could not compete for her affection with Emenike. 

"Today, we are only going to reinforce what we have studied so far. Centering and Grounding.” 

As Uloma watched the only Emenike with a clean-shaven face and clothes that made no statement, she felt the groan she had been suppressing escape her. Here we go, she thought. Emenike was now grouping the students and pairing them with a senior Cosmic student. The rain droned and pelted Uloma while she waited to be paired with a group. Students with their groups walked off, scattering into familiar formation. But her pairing never came. 

“You are with me.” 

Emenike barked at her. 

“What?” 

Uloma said before she could stop herself. Emenike smiled, showing off his pearl-white teeth. Uloma thought, shark. 

“This would be fun.” 

He said, and Uloma immediately started to feel sorry for herself. The sound of the gushing spring was melting away, replaced by a searing dread that rang in her ears. Uloma swallowed. 

“Gurglegluppglup.” 

Sani, a wet glob, said shyly, interrupting whatever else Emenike was about to say. The look on Emenike’s face was terrifying enough to turn the blob of damp clay, sorry. 

“Whose fault is it that you don’t have a group, ehn!” 

Emenike exclaimed, and Sani looked down at his non-existent feet. Uloma would have patted his non-existent shoulder in a show of support if it would not have incentivized Emenike to will her hand clean off her.   

“Go join Ekama’s.” 

Emenike waved him off and turned away as if he were certain the little interruption was over and done with. 

“Gurgleglippglup.” 

Sani said quietly; he sounded like a whisper. 

“Ekama has got a temper, and what about mine, because right now, you are trying mine.” 

Emenike replied. Uloma felt sorry for him as he dragged himself away. Personally, if she were choosing between Emenike’s and Ekama’s temper, she would choose Emenike’s any day. Emenike was at least not allowed to wait for you behind a tree; you were sure nobody was lurking behind to rehash a quarrel. Suffice it to say, her Ekama was a worse terror than Emenike. The thought brought Uloma a small measure of pleasure that was badly needed at the moment. 

Around them, creatures centered themselves, which meant allowing themselves to exist in connection to the cosmos. Theoretically, Uloma knew what she was supposed to be doing, but the trouble was not theory now, was it? 

~ 

“Again!” 

Emenike said too close to Uloma’s ears. They had been going at it for a while now, and if the last ten again did not change anything, why did Emenike think this one would? She felt depleted and irritable, but Emenike was not letting up. 

“Again.” 

He said. What was he even expecting would happen? Because even she did not know. What exactly was she supposed to be finding within herself? Whatever it was, it did not want to be found. 

“Maybe I have no connection with the universe.” 

Uloma offered, carefully keeping her frustration away from her voice, when she could no longer take another, again. Twelve 'agains' in, and she was feeling like ending Emenike’s glorious life. Emenike paused, mouth propped to say ‘again’ again. He carefully shut his mouth and considered Uloma for a second. ‘Lost course,’ Uloma could almost hear him think. 

“Uloma, how could you not be connected to the universe?” 

His voice was almost gentle; it caught Uloma by surprise. 

“It is not something we can choose or undo. We are all from this universe and interconnected as a result.  

“Where then does that leave me? Too different to feel the connection?” 

Uloma felt as defeated as she sounded. She was not sure she had ever said those words out loud. 

“Uloma, it is time to unlearn this nonsense you have come to believe.” 

He scolded. Uloma made to protest, but Emenike shook his head at her. 

“Look around you, Uloma. No one creature here is like the other; that is what makes our realm perfect. The freedom to be, however you are. Your limitations, Uloma, are all perceived.” 

Uloma shook her head. It was not going down well, being told that it was all in her head. That everything she had held as true was all make-believe. But hadn’t everyone called her different? A voice in her head screamed. Yet a tiny voice reminded her that she and her friend often referred to almost everyone as creepy or weird, but they never meant anything bad by it. Everyone here was creepy and bizarre, and that was true, but it did not mean anything bad. But you have no powers, the louder voice insisted, and silenced the other voice.  

Uloma looked around her. Truly looked around her, at the diverse creatures grounding and centering themselves. Even with the small spacing the groups gave each other, you could see the visible realization of most of their powers raging. Winds whirled, darkness threatened, fires sparked and made to engulf, and gems littered the air, but no one was threatened; they managed to contain themselves in a way that accommodated the other person. 

A tall, shadow-like creature was the closest student to Uloma. As she watched, he spread and grew, covering her in ticklish darkness; she did not know his name, because he always kept to himself, one of the sons of the depth of the sea. The only sound surrounding them was the hum of static energy vibrating off her fellow students; one or two of the students with sonic and acoustic powers were probably controlling what was audible. It would have been beautiful to watch if all Uloma was feeling at the moment was not frustration. 

She closed her eyes to shut them out, but they were all she could hear, the sonic hum of contained energy revibrating and bouncing about. Uloma had no idea how long she stood there trying and failing to block them all out. ‘Stop, ’ she whispered in her head. Just stop, please. She felt defeated now, exhausted, energy that wasn’t hers surrounded her, enveloped her, making her feel small, tiny, inconsequential. She wanted it to stop. She did not know when it eventually did, but she felt a lot better, like she could finally breathe; even the sonic hum was gone. She opened her eyes to hear more of the pep talk from Emenike, but he wasn’t talking. 

Emenike was watching her like she had grown an extra head; he and everyone else there. Had she yelled the stop out loud, she wondered, giving them a quizzical, apologetic smile, not even sure what she was apologizing for. Ekama was floating towards her, and Uloma could feel the panic as her friend neared her. Why was she taking her time? Abali reached her before Ekama; he, as always, came out of nowhere, but he was usually faster than this. 

“What is going on?” 

She asked him, laughing from panic, everyone was still watching her; something was wrong. Abali ran his palm across her face, the panic in her laugh reflected in his eyes. 

“You are okay.” 

He said, letting his relief out. He withdrew his hand from her face and ran it over his forehead. 

“You are okay.” 

He repeated. He looked tired, but Abali never looked tired. She wanted to ask him about it, but Emenike and Ekama were there now. 

“You!” 

Kama said and threw herself into Uloma. Uloma laughed again nervously. This time, she was confused, but Ekama’s action was the only normal thing at the moment. 

“You scared me.” 

She said, holding on to Uloma as tightly as she could. Uloma patted her petite friend on her raggy afro. 

“Scare me like that again, and I will make sure there is poison in everything you eat, you weirdo.” 

Typical reaction, Uloma chuckled. She looked over at Abali to give him the eye roll for Ekama’s behavior, but he was talking animatedly with Emenike. She had never seen him disagree with authority before. He was gesturing and gesticulating in a manner that was both threatening and somehow appealing to Uloma. Ekama pulled away from her, looking her over as if to ensure that Uloma was truly fine. 

“Okay, you have to tell me, did I grow an extra head?” 

Uloma laughed nervously.  

“You started time.” 

Abali said from nowhere. He was just with Emenike a second ago, looking like Emenike was dangerously close to getting a beatdown. Emenike, the force that held the realms together, looked like he was being threatened by her idiot friend. 

“Cow, did you even hear him? You started time.” 

Ekama repeated. Uloma had heard him, but he had not made any sense, had he? And neither was she. 

“You started time, and then you stopped it, and then slowed it down.” 

Uloma still had a dazed smile on her face. They weren't making sense. She did not have any powers. 

“Uloma, you bound us all in the law of time you created.” 

She created time? What was Abali talking about? She looked at Emenike, who was there now, his sensible grey wrapper billowing in the rain. 

“It was only a matter of seconds.” 

He said it as if he was holding himself back from saying more; he was looking at Abali, she noticed. 

“But what?” 

Uloma asked. She had not meant to sound out of patience, but Abali was not her mouthpiece. 

“Uloma. We are beings that operate outside of time. Being within the constraint of time, even for a second, could be catastrophic, not just for us, but for our realm. 

“I don’t even have powers.” 

Uloma protested weakly. 

“Uloma, Daughter of All that Ends, only you believed that.” 

Emenike said and vanished. 

“Wait.” 

Uloma called after him, but he was gone. She buried her face in her palms. What was going on? What were they all saying? She had stopped time; she, Uloma, the only being in the realm without powers, now had powers that could threaten the realms. How? Since when? She looked up from her palm to catch Abali and Ekama fighting quietly. The other students were still staring, but at least they looked like they were stirring as well; there were even some aimless milling about like they were not sure what to do with themselves now that Emenike had gone. 

“So, what are we fighting about?” 

Uloma asked her friends. Abali looked visibly annoyed, which was not a surprise; he and Ekama fought like siblings. 

“I think paying Umaji a visit sounds like an excellent idea at the moment. Won’t you agree?” 

Ekama asked her. 

“Oh yes; absolutely.” 

Uloma laughed, only because she felt a little mad at the moment. 

~ 

In the moment that it took for Uloma to pace time, a human woman died. Her Reginald, a promise that would never again be realized. She lay still on her deathbed; she should have been alone, should have felt alone, but a giant of a woman with hair loud enough to wake up a village, and eyes deep enough to drown one, stuck to her side. 

“My Ulo, I have never for one day left your side.” 

The woman cooed. Uloma closed her eyes for the last time, all the years of suffering and loneliness dissipating. She saw another girl who looked just like her in her youth. Her younger look-alike was in a sea of darkness, her eyes closed. And just like that, Ulo found her other soul. The in-between feeling was vanquished, so the grey old woman let go.