isn’t it funny how I frantically tried everything, stubbornly believing there was a solution to this? I did it all; getting under others, drinking, partying, drugs, crying, painting, questioning, praying, oh so much praying. nothing worked. I continued to float through my own life, walking dead. ironic, because I hate that fucking show. I wonder how I did it, how I lived through the many breakdowns. crying mid-sentence in public places. not answering phone calls because there was a perpetual lump of pain stuck in my throat and it hurt. everything hurt. Read more
Tade thought back to when he’d first met her in Coolidge nightclub two years ago. He hadn’t been in party mood until the DJ went mental with his old school mix. He spotted her shortly after, dancing and mouthing the lyrics to every song…
He’d stepped up to her, mind blown because she matched his every move. Five songs later his hard-on was poking into the small of her back and she gyrated deliberately, turning to smile naughtily at him every now and again.
at some point she led him into the bathroom and it was just a thrilling blur of clashing body parts and hunger and cramped spaces and the fear of being caught and satisfaction.
Seun checked the wall clock for the umpteenth time.
This was really disturbing. She picked up her phone and dialled his number.
She was pacing around the living room now, walking off her worry. He was supposed to have come home by 7:30, 8pm at the very latest. And he usually called or sent a message on bbm just before leaving the office. Why would today be any different?
She realized she was dialling his number yet again, and was a bit freaked out to see that she’d tried calling him 17 times. No answer again. She typed him a hasty text message; NOT FUNNY, CALL ME! and decided to distract herself for about 30 more minutes, else she’d go insane with fear and worry. Abi was kidnapping now a thing in this same Abuja???! Read more
I flash back quickly to that day.
We had gone on a road trip, and ended up in a little hotel in a quiet area, small city on the outskirts of a big town. The heat was doing our heads in and the constant airconditioning provided by the hotel was pure bliss. Nothing like vaseline, or body lotion of any kind had touched my skin in weeks. But of course, such skin-peace was ill-fated; soon I began to feel dried out, and it was embarassing going out because I had only packed short things but those short things showed off my white, scaly skin.
He woke me up one morning and asked if I wanted to come run errands with him. I said no, because 7am was an ungodly hour for me on holiday. So I slept, stretched languidly across the crisp white sheets, rolling cat-like from time to time, flirting with the idea of waking up, but never quite sealing the deal. Some minutes before 11 I decided I was ripe enough for a bath, and unhurriedly went about cleaning myself. When I was done, I made the bed because I could already hear him say, when he would eventually come back, “You can’t make bed?” and I chuckled a little because I already knew him that well. I settled in to watch Big Bang Theory, and was laughing softly when his call came in. How was I doing, what should he bring back to our lair for my breakfast, small talk. Looking down at my reptilian skin later, I texted him to buy me a little tub of vaseline, and even after I pleaded and he argued that he wouldn’t just randomly come across vaseline sellers where he was, we sort of left the topic open-ended.
I threatened him with the classic, “You think you are doing me, you are doing yourself because when we go out I’ll embarrass you with my whiteness” and I smiled as I typed that, because I wished we were in the same place so I could watch him laugh, and soak up the twinkle in his eyes until it passed…
He came back bearing food, which was great enough. Until he pulled out a tiny tub of vaseline. It was a brand I hated, but I really hadn’t expected him to buy any at all. I jumped up and down in excitement, pinned him to the wall and made kissy faces at him while he tried to push me off.
“Are you this cheap, you shoulda just told me all it took is vaseline. Jeez, I wouldn’t have wasted all this time and effort.”
I come back from my reverie and focus my gaze on the tub of vaseline. I’d thrown it in a seldomly used handbag, and there it was…
And I guess, really, I miss you.
I am in a bus headed for Asaba. There’s a skinny fair guy sitting next to me who’s been making small talk with the third person at the back, an elderly lady. I’ve come to realize that my girlfriend lied; Asaba is apparently further away than the four hours she promised, and it’s in no way going to be a smooth ride, if the present rough road is anything to go by.
I’m trying to sleep to eat up the kilometres, but there is really nowhere to rest my head. I glance towards my skinny neighbour and access his profile. Glasses, very little facial hair. I quite suddenly want to grab his head and kiss him. It’s not my fault. I love to kiss but this single life won’t let me prosper…