Preordained #ProjectNigeria

65- You Remind Me

Saheed had found me. Somehow, he got my number and called one day. He didn't gloat, he simply stated facts that made sense to me.

"Did Maduka search for you like I did?" he had asked.

"What do you want, after trying so hard?"

"A chance at us. Queen, even you have acknowledged that I have tried so hard. You have nothing to hide from me, I know everything about you and still think you're worth my attention."

"I don't want to hate you, but is this supposed to make me feel better?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I handled things badly. I shouldn't have bullied you the way I did. But look at the bright side, Queen. You have no more secrets. Don't you feel a bit lighter? And if he wanted you, wouldn't he have chased after you that night?"

No, I do not feel lighter. It's like I'm still underwater. What difference does it make, if I'm at the bottom of the Lagoon tied to one rock instead of two? Am I not still drowning? And I don't want to think about him, I had thought.

"Think about it. Take your time, I'll be waiting patiently."

It was hell, feeling nothing during the day but lying alone at night, wide awake, and crying silently while watching memories of my past in my mind. The look in his eyes when I revealed my secret had nearly crippled me with shame. It had been disbelief at first, then shock, and then, ultimately, sadness and disappointment.

Just when I had started feeling wanted, needed, it all disappeared in a matter of minutes- and it was my fault, just like it had been my fault when Dad had raped me countless times because I had wanted it, because I was a beautiful girl, as he had complimented me. It was my fault because I had worn shorts the first day, the same shorts that Mum had bought for me on one of her trips to the market.

It's always my fault, even when I can't control everything.

My suffering was my fault because it shamed me to think of what Maduka would say, and so I had kept my truth to myself. And now, it's my fault for choosing Saheed over my misery, for wanting to be wanted instead of feeling lonely. Even with my lack of emotions for him, even with my indifference towards him, something about him gets to me. It's physical, it's mental, and it's complicated, and it might be sick.

He reminds me of Dad, who had told me I was beautiful, that I was lucky because he wanted me, me and no one else.

But you're not a little girl or a teenager. Don't you get to make your own choices now?

The thought makes me laugh out loud.

"What's funny?" Saheed questions.

My gaze focuses on him, standing tall before me, dressed in a dark green silk shirt neatly tucked into brown trousers. His patent brown leather shoes gleam dully in the morning light. You'd think he stepped into the wrong neighbourhood if you saw us now, especially with me dressed in a pair of old denim shorts and an oversized shirt, a shirt that had belonged to Maduka. My hair, free from wigs and other forms of extensions, is in a simple puff on my head.

His light brown eyes hold me in thrall. Yes, something is also wrong with this one, just like something is wrong with me. While I acknowledge my demons, he hides his, and only shows it when he can't help it- like when he had kissed me forcefully at Quilox because I had said no to him, like when he had held me against my will at Sailors Lounge, like when he had pinned me to the bed while trying to drive a point home...

"What happened to you, Saheed?"

He raises a full brow at my question. "Answering a question with a question?"