PART II: ALL THAT FUCKING
Sex. Such a powerful three-letter word. A simple, basic solution to the world’s worst problems.
You’re in a killing mood? Look for firm breasts and well-rounded thighs. Headaches? Go for a good humping! You tired of life and can’t seem to get your shit together…bros; get fucked!
Your relationships are dying out? And I don’t mean same-sex-relations…you perverts! I’m talking about healthy male-female relationships – even between friends. Just apply some good-old sexual healing…and voila. Instant smiles all round.
In fact, if for every time the world went to war; all the soldiers did was shag and get laid and …not only will they be too blissfully tired to lift a gun not to talk about cocking and firing it…we would all be related! Would you fire a gun at your step-cousin’s niece?
Beyond a doubt, sex is good. It is fulfilling; asides from the fact that it has lots of colorful names, and though it used to make the more demure of us blush whenever it was mentioned in a room, nowadays we want to talk about it! Pornography is such an ‘innovative mind-opener’…
Okay. I did not type that.
In Dan Brown’s controversial (and-so-full-of-bullshit; I need to say that) novel, he states that the Priory Of Sion (a secret society charged with the responsibility of protecting Jesus and Mary Madgalene’s bloodline) believes that for man to experience God in person, all he needs to do is open all his senses at the moment of orgasm and he will actually ‘see’ God.
Hm. Wow. How powerful sex is.
One thing that really bothers me is the use of the term ‘Casual Sex’; which is defined as ‘one-off sexual encounters with strangers or agreements that can stretch over a longer period of time between two people who have sex together’. The reason I deplore the term is because I strongly believe sex is too powerful an act to be labelled ‘casual’.
Of course, we want to rationalize that ‘sex’ and ‘making love’ are two different things because one is a ‘physical act’ while the other involves your emotions, exaggerated sensations, blah. Be that as it may, it is basically the same fucking thing; pun intended. When you ‘make love’, you simply have sex with someone you like! Finish!
So…why all the oyinbo??
And damn, not only does the bible; God’s everlastingly timeless word state clearly that marriage is the only relationship in which sex is agreeable; that ‘marriage is holy, and the bed undefiled’, it also says that ‘a man shall leave his father and mother and cleave (I prefer ‘clinch’…hehehehehe) to his wife…and the two shall become ONE FLESH.’
Do you have any idea how many people I have slept with? From barmaids to strippers to prostitutes to house-girls to bankers to married women to cougars to…man, I have to admit; I’m one randy guy. And as a wise man once told me; ‘we’re not human beings who have spiritual experiences, we’re spiritual beings who have human experiences!’
I believe sex is more than just the ‘exchange of fluids’ and the panting of bated breath, sweaty bodies and shaking limbs; we actually share something of ourselves with whoever it is we have sex with. Two spirits who; for a moment in time, share a world of purple skies and red clouds and white sands…an explosion of energy.
Now imagine how much of me I have shared with all the women I have slept with. Imagine how much of them I have in me. Imagine how many people I’m bringing along to the marriage bed. Incredible.
Pastor Sam Adeyemi said, “People expect the sex to validate the relationship, when it’s actually the relationship that validates the sex!” C’mon people. Do we have to take our clothes off to have fun? Em…okay; I saw that coming – we can fuck with clothes on. But must there be sex involved to enjoy being with each other? Must we behave as if these hormones control us, and not the other way around?
Nowadays no one in his right mind would claim to be celibate; they’d probably recommend some MFM deliverance for you – after they’re done laughing, that is. It’s as if we’re trying to catch up on all the chastity belts and rings our parents (mostly our mothers) wore back then. My guy, slow down na. Who dey pursue you?
It’s so bad, guys who choose to exercise control over this part of their relationships usually get dumped not because the ladies do not like you or are even nuts about you for that matter; but they usually are expressive beings. It’s not enough to tell her you love her, you show it.
And because she’s that way about you, she wants to hold you, kiss you, inhale you; because you’re like wine to her senses, she reels when she’s with you; you make her lose control…
Okay. I’m sure you get the point.
But, my men…have you ever made love to a woman and she was so caught up in it…in you; she cries?
But this is my point: sex is now so ‘casual’, we can have sex with someone without knowing or caring about their name, who they are, where they’re from…and it’s scary. Like a friend of mine said…‘we all must contribute our quota to global warming’.
And the way we go at this sex thing, we just need to shag some more and we have our global community! I mean, we’ve all pretty much shagged each other; because I used to sleep with her, now she’s with him, and I’m with her friend, who used to be with my neighbor…and he used to be with…damn.
I’m sure somewhere along the line, all the guys would become gay; because…we’re pretty much ‘sleeping’ with each other!
I’m not knocking your hustle or your shagging; neither is this an attempt at glorifying celibacy. Shag all you want, my pessin! It’s a free world.
What I am doing here is trying to illustrate a dim portion of a brightly-lit picture, to present another perspective to this thing called sex. Do what you like, but be conscious of why you do it, how you do it and who you do it with.
Bottom line: Watch Who You Fuck With. Literally.
This is just my 50kobo – I’d really like to hear yours!
He did not get it at first.
As he collected the result from the doctor he felt rather than saw the man flinch away as though he was radioactive or something. Which was mild, compared to what the piece of paper confirmed. He smiled bitterly and walked out of the hospital, not seeing the nurses who were shaking their heads behind him. For the first time in his life, he appreciated the saying ‘ignorance is bliss’.
He stood on the sidewalk in front of the hospital, contemplating a future that was suddenly bleak. He thought about the stories he planned to write. He remembered the scripts he was to supervise. He saw all the plans he had made with Tara about their life together become dust…as irrelevant as the smoke from the exhaust of passing buses. Here one moment, gone the next.
Feeling a deep cough coming from his chest, he turned and began to walk slowly towards the house in which he lived with his parents, wondering how he was going to tell them that after being sick for almost six months, he was going to die. Suddenly he began to cough, rasping coughs that felt as though his chest was being filled with hot coals. And then he spat out a huge glob of blood. Feeling relieved, he bent over and gasped for air, noticing how people walking past gave him a wide berth. He wiped flecks of blood from his lips and placed his palm against his chest, feeling his heart beating strongly, and pumping blood back and forth to keep him alive. He felt as though his heartbeats were the winding down of his life’s clock.
He was dying.
They were waiting, varying emotions on their faces. From the bored detached look on his father’s face to the nervous-fearful one on his mother’s, to the looks of curiosity of the twins, to the ‘trying-to-look-concerned-but-failing expression of his girlfriend he was not surprised. The only thing that hurt him was the knowledge that he had failed to change his father’s opinion about him. Mutely he handed the slip to his father and took his seat on the easy sofa facing all of them as he took his shoes off.
The man looked at the paper he was given and hissed. And without so much as a glance in the boy’s direction handed it to the woman seated beside him who took it with shaking fingers. She took one look and wailed, tearing off her damask head tie and flinging it away as she clutched the result slip to her chest. The twin nearest to her snatched the paper from her and with her second bent over it, whispering loudly. Finally they handed it to his girlfriend and helped their father lift his wailing wife from her seat and half-carried half-pulled her out of the sitting room, followed by their father.
He smiled and turned to his girlfriend who sat staring at him. And then she stood and walked up to him, reaching to touch his cheek but she pulled her hand back, shook her head and walked out of the house, head bowed.
As he sat there, a small dog ran into the room and stopped by the door, alarmed by the silence. It sniffed, nose in the air and then came running towards him to stop a few meters away, watching him warily. He idly wondered if the dog could smell the virus, and then it came closer and licked his fingers.
Lanre started crying.
I’m Only Human
See; things happen.
And as long as we live; things will keep happening. The thing is though, what WE do about what happens is what counts.
Now you’re mad at me, which is understandable. In fact, you have every right to be mad. But while you’re going thru your anger, consider this.
We come from two totally different backgrounds; we are two completely different people. We’re trying to unite/merge two totally different worlds, and in that, collision is unavoidable. There are things to adjust…things to correct….things to totally change.
That won’t come easy.
The only way this thing can work is if we try to understand; or try to be more understanding. Can two work together unless they agree? But to agree, walls will have to come down – there has to be a lot of communication.
And there it is.
Look; don’t get me wrong. I need this to work too. Whatever it is we are to each other, we come together to make things happen. So I do not take this lightly; neither do I you. But you need to understand what I’m saying here. This is new for me and you; and though there may exist an incredible depth of connection and understanding achieved in an incredibly short time, there must still be that understanding that THIS IS NEW FOR US. I can’t just get it once like that. Of course, I will annoy you. Of course, there are things you would expect me to understand. But then, how can I when you have not told me?!
You would think; ‘he should know better if he cares for me so much’….do you know what you’re saying?
And the worst part; you place everything in my hands. You give me your heart, your soul, EVERYTHING, and tell me to be careful with it. Talk about responsibility. ENORMOUS responsibility.
How fair/reasonable are you? I don’t have it all figured out; in fact I’m a kid in the dark searching for his way. I have to worry about my goals, dreams, aspirations…I have to worry about my immediate family; .my parent/siblings…I have to worry about the fact that the clock seems to be hurrying and I’m seemingly stuck in a rut. I’m not any nearer where I need to be.
And on top of all that, I have to worry about the fact that you’re not happy; you’re lonely…your severely-scarred heart has been placed in my too-full hands and I must be careful. Really careful with it.
Understand what I’m saying. It’s responsibility I gladly welcome; because it shows that you’re willing to let go of all the terrible memories life has given you concerning relationships and give it one more shot. But; don’t you think it’s a bit too-much responsibility when you lay the eradication of ALL those things on little me’?
Know this: I’m also a victim of ‘such-and-such’, life and love; men; if you will, have dealt me several SEVERE blows; left me with memories and scars, scars that may never heal. But I realize that that was THEM. That was their own shortcomings. I forgive them for all that; in fact, I thank them because some of the things they did to me – while terrible and frightening, liberated me…helped me further on the path of becoming who I needed to be. They’re gone. I’m still here.
Why hold on to the hurt, and not the pleasure; the joy?
I’m privileged to be here right now, in this place, with you. In fact, I feel like new…like none of this; or anything like it has ever happened to me before. I’m absolutely loving it, and if it is all there is now, I would rather have nothing else. And as wonderful and as unique as it is, there might be more out there for both of us. In other words; things might end between us as suddenly as they began…not because we did not try; but because it was not meant to be or maybe it was not meant to be a permanent thing. Maybe we are just supposed to help each other thru a bad patch.
But I know I wouldn’t be anywhere else. Now.
So the bottom line of the ‘story’ I’ve been telling since is this: Don’t expect too much or too little from me; I give my best. 100%. Nothing more, nothing less.
I also need you to understand; I’m nothing like what you’re used to; so don’t compare or juxtapose. This is me; all day every day. Even when I’m pissed at you, you’re getting me in my realest form. So I might hurt you…might make you angry. Might even break your heart. That does not make me a bad person.
That does not mean I did not try. I did.
And more importantly – be hurt. Cry. By all means. But after the tears, get up and go. Don’t lose the memories…the laughter…the best times. And forgive me.
After all; I’m only human.
So there I was, Thursday; Valentine’s Day 2013.
When I say ‘there I was’ I meant ‘there I was’. In other words, I was just there.
I was at work, something-after 8 o’clock in the evening – having just replied the last of the comments on my just completed series ’14 Days’. My colleagues were headed to the E-center – Ozone to be specific, and we were supposed to be heading there together. There was only one problem.
Six of us were supposed to leave from work. Five males, one female. Two of us were married and would be joined by their wives; a third by his woman. The other guy paired off with the one female in our midst…let’s just say I was the ‘sexy and single’ one.
Bottom line, I changed my mind about seeing a movie – choosing instead to head to Elegushi beach. At something close to 9pm. Undoubtedly crazy, no?
No. The word I choose to use is ‘lonely’.
Anyways, so I got a cab and headed to Elegushi beach. The bulk of the traffic was headed in the other direction, so within a few minutes I was trudging through the sand barefoot, carrying my shoes in my hand after making sure I collected the cab man’s number for when I was leaving.
The beach was a beehive of activity lit up by several spotlights from the many bars that lined the shoreline and the music that pounded from several different speakers warring for attention. Weaving my way through dancing, drinking and eating figures, I walked towards one of the bars and got myself a bottle of Amarula, a bag of ice cubes and one disposable cup. Caching my shoes with the bartender, I made myself a large drink, stuffed the bottle in the ice cube bag – and with bag in one hand, drink in the other, I walked to the beach.
I stood there, just at the edge of the pounding surf and watched nature express its opinion about love, human beings and other related endeavors. I looked around me at the revelers and wondered if they were supposed to be at work the following day like I was supposed to be.
“All of us dey craze,” I muttered to myself and began walking along the shoreline, trying to find some relative quiet. I was almost out of the lights before I found a place where I could stop; close enough so I wasn’t in darkness, but far enough so the music was not so loud. I looked for a log to sit on and proceeded to focus on my bottle.
I ran through three-quarters of the Amarula before I came up for air. I looked up, feeling pleasantly buzzed and at peace with the entire world. A slight rumbling in my stomach reminded me that I had had nothing to eat that day, and I looked around hoping to find something edible; something to quiet the hunger pangs.
That was when I saw her.
She was a bit to my right, looking like I had always imagined Eve; the first woman would look like. She stood on a small mound, arms around herself, head thrown back – eyes closed. She was wearing a large shirt; I couldn’t tell the color, and it came down to her thighs. From where I was sitting it looked like that was all she had on. She was also barefoot like me, but close to her feet were leather sandals and a bag that looked like it was used to kidnap babies. I cocked my head to the side and listened. No alarms.
I stood up and walked slowly towards her, stopping a few feet away where I could get a clearer picture without looking like I was getting a clearer picture. I held the disposable cup to my lips and looked at her from the edge of my eyes. She looked like she was completely lost in the spray of the water from the night tide, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, head thrown back. I hesitated; not wanting to interrupt what was obviously a ‘moment’ for her.
But when nature calls…
“Nature can be so annoying,” I said.
And for a long minute (about ten seconds actually) she said nothing or made any movement, just standing there as she had been before I noticed her. I was wondering whether she hadn’t heard me, to go closer or to walk away when she opened her eyes and looked at me.
“Why would you say that?”
She sounded like Waje and Chidinma rolled into one, with a blend of Regina Askia thrown in. My belly started churning somewhat and for the second time within the past hour; I wondered how wise it was to consume alcohol on an empty stomach. I ignored that and focused on her.
“In this case it makes it look as though peace is something easily attained, and we both know that’s not the case.”
She squeezed her eyebrows into something that was supposed to look like a frown but ended up looking like a ripple across a small pond. She jumped off the small hill and came to stand beside me, coming up almost to my eye-level.
“How do you mean ‘we both know’?”
Her hands were beside her, and I saw my earlier assertion was wrong. The shirt was unbuttoned to the waist, putting the black workout bra that restrained her ample bosom on display. I could see the beginning of the waistband of a pair of shorts just past her bare midriff – before the shirt was abruptly drawn together.
“My face is not down there,” she said, sounding like a petulant child.
“Sorry,” I said, silently blaming the Amarula for making me so reckless. “I did not mean to stare or anything. Sometimes, the hardest thing to do is look away.”
She waved away my apology with one hand while the other one held the shirt together. Her thighs were…they looked like Eclairs in that TV advert. I spent about ten years of my life looking for Eclairs that actually looked like that.
“What were you saying about peace?” she interrupted me.
“How happy are you?” I asked her, startling her out of her indignation. She looked surprised for a bit, and then her heart showed up and her face. This was one hell of a lonely girl.
Her lower lip trembled, and for an awkward moment I thought she was going to cry. I let the nylon I was carrying slip through my fingers and reached for her hand.
“Don’t…” I started to say, but she shushed me with a stern look.
“I’m not crying jo,” she said, but did not take her hand away from mine. There was a lump in my throat and my heart was pounding loud enough to serve as the basis of a rap song. “What the hell…” I muttered half-aloud. She wasn’t saying anything so I looked her. She had let go of her shirt and it was blowing wildly in the suddenly-cold night air. She was looking up at me with a curious half-smile on her lips and well…the expected happened.
Honestly, I don’t know who moved first but there we were, within minutes of seeing each other for the first time, kissing as though there was a competition for whoever could do it best. She kissed just as she looked; calmly and passionately, a contradiction I know, but that’s the only way I can describe it. She tasted like a blend of Suya and Snapp – and one more I couldn’t exactly define. Her lips were cool but her breath was hot…
I jerked away, mumbling incoherently to myself. “This is crazy…” I said, shaking my head trying to clear cobwebs that were not put there by the alcohol I’d been drinking. She let go of me and turned away, wind blowing her hair and making her look like something out of a movie.
“I should be going home now sef,” she said, carrying her bag and shoes.
I reached for my phone and checked the time. 10:24pm.
I flung the cup away into the distance and held her hand, walking towards the noise. We weren’t looking at each other, but we were so aware of one another it was surreal. I collected my shoes from the barfly, called the cab guy and walked with her to wait for him.
A few minutes later, we were driving off the island. I did not know where we were going – neither did I care. It did occur to me that I might be in a taxi with the devil himself; but I don’t know. I guess I was past caring. Or maybe I did not want to seriously consider that possibility.
She held me, head on my shoulder humming a low happy tune. Her eyes shone in the near-darkness of the cab’s interior, and I looked at her feeling as though I was looking at a dream.
She said her name was Nike.
Disclaimer: the writer no send all una randy boys go dey find fine gehl for beach o. If you jam mami water, na una know o!!
Heh. Have a fantastic week!
And the last day; day 1 went like this:
She got to work that morning feisty as all get out. She had made up her mind that she was not going to Obudu with her boss – and that he should do his worst.
But it’s work; her head pointed out.
He just wants to be sleeping with us; her heart argued.
And so it went on till she got to work. The first person she saw was the front-desk person; Shola.
“Oga has travelled. He said to tell you he went with his madam,” Shola said. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
She felt relieved. “Thank you darling,” she said and went into her office.
Toke and Chinedu were there, being really careful around each other. She did not know what to say anymore – so she had hugged each of them and settled in to do some paperwork.
I meet her like that, trying to do some work. But it’s clear that she’s not getting anywhere with it. Her mind keeps drifting – she keeps thinking about her boyfriend. It is as though his going away has evoked some new depth of feeling within herself – as though she just met and the sparks are flying all over again. She picks up her phone to call him…and then she has a rethink. He’s probably busy. A text will do.
So she sends him one, a whimsical smile on her face. She hears a sound in the distance – a sound painfully familiar. But it is impossible; it cannot be sounding that close. So she tells herself it’s her imagination and tries to continue working. Almost immediately he sends a reply and she smiles. They will be fine.
Two weeks will fly by…and they’ll be together again.
“Baby, I need a favor,” Toke suddenly whispers in her ear, making her jump a bit. “What is wrong with you?” she snaps at the girl at her shoulder. She feels contrite instantly, and hugs the girl whispering, “I’m sorry. What do you need?”
Toke sniffs. “I got Chinedu some stuff,” she says quietly, indicating that worthy who is asleep on his table. “And I did not want him to know so I hid them in the store. Could you please? It’s a huge black box…”
“Say no more,” our ‘she’ says, and marches towards the storeroom which is just a small room inset in the back of their office. Chinedu looks up from his table, too quickly for one who is supposed to be asleep, not wanting to miss any of the ensuing drama.
She opens the store door, flicks on the light.
And finds herself face to face with her boyfriend who is supposedly in Abuja.
“Hello beautiful,” he says, sweat dotting his brow.
She does what almost anyone; male or female (forget movies) would do in that situation. She shrieks.
It’s a few minutes after one in the afternoon before the pandemonium settles. By that time, everyone in the office from security guard to cleaner to driver knows who auntie’s boyfriend is. The poor guy has been shaking hands for the past thirty minutes while his girlfriend stands by, shaking her head and beaming proudly. She looks at Chinedu and Toke who are standing to one side, laughing quietly and draws a finger across her throat. I’ll kill you; she mouths in their direction.
“We love you too,” Toke whispers back. Chinedu blows her a kiss.
“So, you were not sent to Abuja at all,” she says accusingly to her man when the dust finally settles.
“Sure I was. I’m supposed to be there now. I just explained things to my partner and he agreed to cover for me till tomorrow.” He smiles down at her. “First flight out. And you’re coming with me.”
“And them?” she asks, indicating the grinning couple. “How did they get in on it?”
“You had been hoarding him from us na,” Chinedu says, casually slipping an arm around Toke’s waist. “So when he called and explained to me, it was a chance to surprise you twice.”
“But how did he get in there?” she asks. “Did you leave the airport immediately I left or…”
“I flew to Abuja…saw my partner and explained things to him. And then I flew right back, connected with him and crashed in his house. Came to the office with him this morning – we came extra-early so we could beat you in,” he ends, grinning happily.
“So that’s why you were dozing!” she accuses Chinedu.
She shakes her head, looking at this boyfriend of hers. I love him; she thinks.
“I love you,” she says, liking the smile that shows up on his face. “I love you too,” he says in response, somewhat automatically yet unlike she’s ever heard it before. Yeah yeah.
“Oya kiss me jo,” she says to him.
And as that kiss is enough for me on Valentine’s Day, I go home jeje to hug my pillow and bottles.
I’m sure you wish her well. I do, no matter what.
Happy Valentine’s Day, young lovers everywhere. Love is beautiful.
I have today a special guest; a friend, a relative and a colleague who has agreed to share his latest poem with us.
He goes by the name Psalmurai (you might want to google that), he’s a rapper and I won’t try to sell him to you. Read the following lines – and judge for yourselves.
My Rare Valentine
My dear valentine; another year has come/
And before you count to twelve another year has gone/
Don’t get mad; just listen as I share my thoughts/
These words written for you are meant to heal, not hurt/
I love it when you sing my praise ‘cus you know my worth/
But when I return the favor you don’t believe my words/
Maybe you think I’m full of it; playing mind games and such/
Maybe you’ll believe me more if I tell it with a touch/
But you’re miles over seas now picture me swimming/
I know I did you wrong; hope these rhymes are redeeming/
I be sad, I see your pic and start beaming/
Your beauty, smile and laughter got me going/
Look what you do to me without knowing/
The seeds of smiles you sowed in me are now showing/
All I wanna do is return the favor; dear lady/
Lord give me grey skies and make hers blue daily/
Or we can share, I’ll take half of your tears/
You take half of my fears, split the worries in our heads/
They say babies and marriage are the only the thing that matters/
But touching you were it matters is the only thing that matters/
I play back conversations and finally I get it/
You don’t wanna give your heart and get it back broken/
Believe I agree with You; both sexes are equal/
You got a mind of your own that’s why I’m crazy about you/
It’s been a lot of years since you went that way/
Last time you came home I avoided your face/
Now I seek it hoping to find that shine…refreshing
Hear what I’m saying mama?
You can see this as closure or opening doors/
To a different side of me you have never seen before/
Tell me a man that you know that exists without flaws/
Might as well show me a man that can walk without floors/
Dear valentine hope you find what you’re looking for/
Let’s keep in touch till I find a girl that is good enough/
Another that compares with the light that you’re putting on/
Don’t take my words light I took time out to write it for…You/
As I steal a part of that and sent it to my Val;
She’ll read and get it; I know that.
Have fun today, lovers. Life is too short.
And the 2nd day was.
She is at the airport – MM2 to be exact. She is there to see her boyfriend off.
Off to where?
Well, he is being sent down to Zaria to oversee one training something-or-the-other, and as is the way with ‘slave traders’ he was not informed until Monday, and he is to be gone for two weeks. That sucks, no?
Anyway, she’s dressed casually even though she is supposed to be at work – black off-shoulder blouse, white jeans and a white scarf to complete the ensemble. Her boyfriend is checking in, and she has her arms around herself, watching from beside the airline booths. She’s just…there.
Actually, she is kind of laughing at herself. She’s laughing because; well…two days ago, it was the sudden discovery that Engineer had a wife that set the tone for the week, so to speak. Of course, she had not been prepared to take the woman’s word for it (even though she was pretty certain it was true; Laide had sounded too sincere) and had confronted Engineer with it. He had not bothered to deny it – in fact he was more upset that she’d found out about it than he was about her reaction. She was angry. He should have told her about it and she would have decided what she wanted to do.
As if that hadn’t been bad enough, her boyfriend had called her yesterday to tell her about this sudden trip. She closes her eyes and wishes everything was just back to a week ago; a week ago when she had the choice of three men who to spend 14th with. It would seem as though the choice is made for her.
She opens her eyes to find her boyfriend smiling at her. He is the kind of guy you want describe as ‘nice-looking’. She moves close to him and suddenly asks, ‘are you cheating on me?’
He frowns at her. “Now what sort of question is that?”
She nods, agreeing. “What sort of question is that?” she repeats unhappily. “I don’t know, I’m just…” she looks away, and then looks back at him. “I don’t want you to go,” she says.
He grabs her non-too-gently and kisses her soundly. She kisses him back, liking and enjoying the aggression in his kiss. She bites his lower lip gently, and looses herself in his arms. A small cough next to them brings her back to earth, and she gently untangles herself from his arms.
“Slow down, soldier.” she says teasingly, even though she feels depressed. Don’t go, she wants to say. Stay with me! But she keeps smiling and looking him in the eye. He looks troubled, sad even. It suddenly occurs to her that; maybe this guy actually loves her, maybe he actually takes her serious. As it is in the world today, the ‘I love yous’ are just a matter of course; words that really mean nothing. Or maybe they do to him; she wonders.
“Maybe I don’t have to go…” he says, looking forlorn. “I was so looking forward to those two days with you…”
She swallows past a lump in her throat and speaks to him, arms around his shoulders. “Imagine how that would look on your CV. It’s work, baby. Me you’ll always have…this opportunity might not come again for a while…”
He looks at her. “Always?! As in…I’ll always have you…”
She releases him and smacks his shoulder lightly. “Go jo! I knew that was the only thing you will hear. Ashawo!”
They both laugh, regarding each other fondly. And then his flight is announced.
“Boarding for Flight 108 for Abuja, boarding now. Gate 14. Boarding for Flight 108 Dana Airlines, Abuja. Gate 14.”
“Dana Airlines?! Are you…” he interrupts her.
“I’ll be fine. Miss me.”
He kisses her hungrily, and they both feel something different in the way their lips touch. And then he breaks away, and looks at her. “Only you,” he says, looking as serious as a corpse at its burial. “Only you.”
And then he turns and walks away without a backwards glance.