“I’ve got it”
“You sure?”
“Yh”
And on cue, they smile.
That was disgusting, but hey, that’s love.
Did I mention some chill lo-fi beat is playing in the background from the home-theatre?
My longest relationship was 24 hours. Suffice to say, it was a whirlwind of emotions and euphoria. It was also a natural disaster of epic proportions. But I fault no one for it, at least not anymore. We were hard and fast lovers, but we also had a lot of growing up to do.
I was back in Lagos for the elections and needed somewhere to crash the night before the nation went to the polls. I hit up an old friend, Felix to see if he could put me up for the night. Felix and I weren’t exactly friends but Felix was magnanimous and I, a user. The yes didn’t come too long after the request so I had a roof over my head before I decide the fate of my country. Felix had been in a relationship as far back as college days. That was lifetime for me considering how many times I professed love and accepted loss. She wasn’t perfect, at least not to me, but the sun rose and set whenever she smiled and she shat rainbows as far as Felix was concerned. They were everywhere together. I mean everywhere. You would think that after all these years, they’d call it quits. But here they were, waxing strong, married in all but name.
I got off the cab in front of a decent apartment building meant to be where he stayed. Walking up the flight of stairs was exercise I didn’t plan on doing but I got to his apartment. Two knocks in and Mabel opens the door. I hadn’t planned on seeing her so I was a bit dumbstruck. She pulls me into a suffocating bear hug, odd, considering the last time we spoke was the equivalent of the cold war. After a brief exchange of pleasantries or rather, in the midst of it, Felix appears from the kitchen; hammer in hand. Why I was sure he was going to cave in my head, I don’t know. But here I was, in another choking hug, from another bear.
They were in the middle of fixing in a new cabinet, so I sat by the stool closest to the door leading to the sitting room and we made small talk. I had spent most of post-college days in research and writing books on health and fiction, in between, I was in some relationships here and there, but thankfully no child. Felix seemed happier than I was about that piece of information, it wasn’t my place to probe; at least not now.
Mabel was by the fridge tip-toeing in an attempt to place the cabinet door; attempting but failing. We were both taller than she was, but she was his significant other so I stayed put.
It felt like I was interrupting a moment, yet I don’t believe they realized I was still there. They were as different as day and night in personalities, but somehow it worked. They worked.
I still wanted to throw up in my mouth, but I had to be honest to myself, I wanted this. This “I wanna fold clothes with ya” kinda vibe as described by J cole. It was nice, not easy but nice. Made me question “what if”
“what if it worked out for me?”
“is this happiness?”
“what if this is all there is?”
“what if I’m hungry and all this is just my brain on hyper drive when I’m hypoglycemic?”
As though my thoughts were being broadcasted, Mabel lays a plate with two cheese and ham sandwiches in front of me.
“eat up Mr thinker”
This is not a J cole- endorsing post, but if you do enjoy good music, you already listen to him.
Vote wisely, let your vote count
