The walkway rose toward the ship's broad deck. Every step brought Kayode closer to the place where his voice had once filled the lounge and strangers had laughed at another person's humiliation. He passed crew members carrying equipment and arranging the spaces for the next voyage. Nobody seemed to recognize him at first. The quiet anonymity was humiliating and oddly freeing; for once he could not use fame to avoid listening.
Kayode admitted, "On this ship, I once shouted orders at everyone. Today, I approach her quietly, like a guest asking permission. Be calm, heart. Whatever waits for me on that deck, I will meet it standing, and I will listen."
Kola replied, "One step at a time, Kayode. The sunset is with you, and so am I."
Kayode replied, "Each step feels heavier than the island stones, but stopping now would shame everything the island taught me. I am standing on her deck again, and my heart is beating like a drum at a village festival. I ruled this deck with a loud voice and an empty heart."
Kola said, "Soft steps; keep walking. The people you must face are just ahead now."
Kayode murmured, "Here, I snapped my fingers for service like a king. God forgive the noise I called living back then. Music, laughter, warm light... I hear her world continuing without me, Kola, and in the same breath—"
Kola said, "No more running, Kayode. Behind this door stands the truth you poured away with a bottle of champagne."
When the door opened, Kayode found Folake seated in the very chair from which he had issued so many orders. She wore an elegant gold gown, and Tayo stood nearby dressed as a guest rather than a servant. The sight felt like a violation of the world Kayode remembered. His old reflex was immediate: raise his voice, name the objects he thought belonged to him, demand an explanation. But Folake did not rise from the chair. She waited for the noise to pass.
Kayode demanded, "Folake? In gold? In my suite? In my chair? Explain this to me!"
Folake said, "Lower your voice, Kayode. You are a guest in this room now, and guests here speak with respect always."
Kayode demanded, "You wore a waiter uniform, Tayo! Now you wear my life, my suite, my gold, like it was yours!"
Tayo said, "I wore that uniform with pride, Kayode. What I wear now, I wear beside a woman you underestimated completely."
Kayode demanded, "You watched me suffer on that island while you danced here in gold and luxury!"
Kola observed the room without speaking. He had seen how quickly Kayode could slide toward rage when confronted with something he did not understand, and he watched for the moment when his friend would remember the promises made in the village. Folake had decided that the truth about the vessel would be spoken plainly, without ceremony. It was not a revelation she had invented for his humiliation. It was the history of her own family, a history Kayode had never cared to learn.