Love. Loss.

A short story.

Nearly all the men in Lagos are mad. A flimsy handful are sane, and you were one of them.

I knew from the moment our eyes locked at the party. I didn't want to be at that party. I remember being annoyed that I allowed Gbemi to lure me away from the assignments I needed to complete before Monday. I stared at Gbemi and some other girls; all twerking and grinding nastily to the rhythmic thump of Victony's All Power. Some of the guys were dancing too, but the majority of them just fed their eyes, clearly entertaining themselves while they smoked joints and drank from red disposable cups. 

I prayed I didn't stick out like a sore thumb, but I knew God will not answer any prayers I say in a nightclub blasting All Power belongs to your bumbum from the speakers.

I felt a prickling sensation of being watched, and I raised my eyes. In that moment, our eyes collided. I remember looking at your face, and thinking how you made beautiful seem inadequate. 

I dropped my gaze and wondered what you were seeing. How you were judging my looks.

They call me Shallipopi…

The intro of a song by Shallipopi comes through on the speakers, and excitement ripples through the throng of dancers. The noise level rose and my head began to throb. I needed out, so I went out.

I hoped you would follow me, so I suggestively swayed my hips, hoping you would take the hint. You took the hint, and few minutes after I sat down on the stoop outside the club, you dropped down next to me. You were so close to me, and the faint musk of your cologne wafted its way into my eager nostrils. You had pretty brown eyes that reminded me of syrup, sweet maple syrup.

“I'm Jamal, what's your name?” you said, and your voice snapped me out of my reverent reverie. I felt your voice in my belly, and in the moisture that pooled in my inner thighs. I was down bad.

“Tobi,” I managed to sound uninterested.

“You don't come here often, right?” you asked, and I thought you looked amused.

“Is it that obvious?” I replied, and that made you laugh. You threw your head back, revealing your throat, and your shoulders rocked with mirth as you laughed. A deep, scattered rumble that sent a thrill through me. I swallowed hard, as the thought occurred to me that I would throw the world over a precipice to see you laugh like that again.

***

In the months following that night, I would discover the feel of your hair in my fingers, I would learn the taste of your deliciously wide mouth even as our bodies danced to a sensual rhythm. I would touch and be touched. Ours was the kind of love that people prayed for. The kind of love that people said, “God When?” for.

You were so sweet to me. Tiny little gestures here and there that most people will not think about. You cooked for me, because I had bad eating habits. You shared good music with me. A touch here, a caress there, physical touch was your thing. Public displays of affection that made warmth unfurl inside of me. It was all so surreal.

You watered me, even as I watered you. And we bloomed in each other’s hands. People said our names like one name.

“TobiandJamal”

“JamalandTobi”

In my third year in school, I had somehow moved in with you. Every morning, I would wake up with your skin next to mine, and go to bed spooned against your body at night. Your eyes lit up with such fierce love and tenderness whenever I stepped into a space. And I would watch the beautiful reflection of the love I have for you on your face. I felt the sun from both sides. I was loved and I loved with the same intensity.

You made me feel like the focus. The only thing you see. When you touch me, there’s no one but me.

Life was perfect with you in it. I should have known because there’s no such thing as a perfect life. I should have clamped down on the joy I felt during our nightwalks listening to RnB. I should have stifled the happiness I felt whenever you sing to me in your deep, velvety voice. If I had not been so deliriously happy and content, maybe you would still be with me. Maybe death would not have ripped you from me. Death would have stayed its grip, and given us a chance at life. There is no life without you, Jamal.

***

I was in my final year, and you were already working as an Architect in an architectural firm. I spent the day working on my final year project at the apartment that we now shared, and I was feeling a sense of accomplishment because it was all coming together. So, I decided to cook for you. You always teased me about my cooking skills, and how I always end up burning myself or cutting myself whenever I made food.

You were always so intentional about me, and you did most of the cooking because you loved cooking. Honestly, it felt wonderful to be cared for like that, but I always made sure to reciprocate the energy because I wanted a healthy balance in our relationship. Obviously, anything I cook would not taste as nice as anything you made yourself. But I wanted to make the effort. Best girlfriend ever. Until you died because of me.

I was stuck between making rice or swallow, so I decided to call to ask which one you would prefer. It was well past sunset, and you were driving home from work. You picked on the second ring.

“Hey, Jam Jam”

You loved when I called you that, but you always pretended to hate it.

“Uuurgghhh,” you complained through the phone connection. I laughed.

“I'm on my way home. Can't wait to see me?” A car honked in the background.

Yes actually, and I'm going to make actual food.”

“Hmm, am I safe?” you drawled, half-laughing.

“Of courseee, so what do you want to eat?”

“You,” your voice dropped into a husky whisper.

I had to laugh. “I'm sure we can work something out, but-”

That was when I heard it. Your gasp, the scream of tires, the crash, the shattering of glass. I kept calling your name, until the line went dead. I can't possibly describe what happened to me in those moments. Horror whirled through me and I became a blur of movement in the house in a search for things I wasn't sure I was even looking for. I was becoming hysterical, and a little mad with each passing second.

I ran out of the house. I needed to get to you. You needed me. Halfway down the road, I felt my legs give way under me. My mind blurred into a haze, and I slipped into an abyss of nothingness. And that's the last thing I remember.

When my mind slipped out of the haze, I was in a hospital. They told me you were dead. A car crash. Then I screamed. I screamed so much,l lost the ability to make any sounds. Your mother was there at the hospital, and I just wanted to apologize for taking her son’s life, but I couldn't form the words. I just wanted to die. I. Still. Want. To. Die.

The End?

Hi, this is the first time I'm putting out fiction that I wrote. So let me know what you think about this short story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanksss, and have a beautiful week ahead.❤