Paul
Alfa won. He fucking did. It doesn't matter how often I replay the scenes leading up to the announcement in my head, I never find my fault. But I don't get it, I won the first and second round, the judges were pleased with my special. Where did I go wrong?
I stare at the ceiling without a clue what I am doing or my next move. What now? The lights in Chi's room are of a different design, sleeping in our--my room without her feels odd, I did it only once, barely slept a wink. My hands spread out on the bed, my eyes scan the room and a smile flits to my lips at the picture of us hanging from the wall.
Chi kept it. I hate that picture. Her tiny arm around my shoulders almost suffocated me, tears streamed down my cheeks and mucus formed small bubbles around my nostrils, yet that idiot called the cameraman still snapped us. The dizzying smile on Chi's lips makes me wonder now if she knew I was choking, if her arm had tightened around my neck deliberately. She was taller then, more mischievous and always had daddy's support. A yawn escapes me, I roll to my side and my head connects with the pillow.
A soft, feminine voice floats in and out of my subconscious, my hand reaches out for the owner, to cocoon her in my embrace, I need her. But I come up empty. I blink and stare at the walls of the room, the sleep vanishes, my painful reality dawns on me.
She is not here; she doesn't want me. The thought drives a blunt dagger through my heart, I bury my face into the pillow and let out a muffled scream. My head throbs, a strange feeling spreads throughout my chest and I wheeze. I don't want her too.
The pain migrates with a vengeance to my heart, I wince and hide my face in my palms until I can handle it. I have had enough of beautiful women and their ugly desire to hurt me without batting an eyelid. This shit fucking hurts, more than it did the last time. At least, Ella was a coward, she never said anything to my face, only a text.
Sweat sticks to my underarms, I turn on the AC and rise from the bed with the speed of a Sloth. No job. No girlfriend. No title. No love. There is nothing for me in Calabar anymore. My heart constricts, causing me to squeeze my eyes shut and pause briefly on my way to the kitchen, I sigh. I should have dissuaded her, talked myself out of going for that damn rigged show, we would have been at home, in bed. But I didn't, I couldn't.
Saying no to her has to be the most difficult thing on earth, everything I do is to make her happy. If she is happy, then I am too but I guess my happiness doesn't count. I run my fingers through my face and groan at the reminder of her text: I am sorry. I scoff, sorry doesn't cut it, it never has, never will. She should have let me be in my misery, instead of sending a text to mock me. Sorry for what? Hitting me or tearing us apart?
My hand locates my vibrating phone in the pocket of my tracksuit, I groan at the sight of the caller, this sister of mine is determined to frustrate me. The woman I want disturbing me hasn't called again, all I got was another fucking, pathetic text, it is always a text with these heartbreakers. When I am inside the kitchen, I take a long look at my screen, clear my throat and pick.
"Hey," I say to Chi whose excitement wanes at my sombre tone. I wish I have the secret to her constant happiness. "What's up?"
"Are you at home?" I shake my head until I remember she can't see me and reply in the negative. "You have been missing my calls."
Retrieving a bowl from the fridge, I insert it into the microwave and wince as the tempo of Chi's voice increases with each question. I haven't cooked in days, cooking without her here feels wrong, like I am cheating on the beautiful memories we created in this part of the house. Not only did she walk away with the broken pieces of my heart, she also took my ability to do simple things like cook. I barely exist. Fuck my life.
Cooking has always been my safe place, the calm on the stormy days, now, I can't do that without her melodious laughter taunting me, her sweet, sultry voice teasing me to add a little more spice than necessary. Tucking the phone between my shoulder and ear, I hit the timer on the microwave with excess force and grunt in reply to Chi.
That shit hasn't happened to me in years. With Ella, I sulked and moved on. I tug on my beards painfully, eyes zeroed in on the light coming from inside the microwave as I grunt. Fucking women and their ability to ruin everything even in their absence.
"Paul Udoka, are you listening to me?" Chi's voice booms, I pull the phone away from my ear to glance at it and grimace. "Udoka."
"No, what is it?" I shake my head. "Yes, I am listening. You were talking about the..."
She lets out an exaggerated sigh, I chuckle and she relents on her scolding. Placing the phone on the counter, I put it on speaker and yelp when my hand connects with the bowl inside the microwave. Stupid. I heave a sigh when my eyes land on the rag I should have used to retrieve the scalding bowl. Maybe she also walked away with my senses because I have no fucking idea what I am doing anymore. Nothing makes sense.
"What's going on? Where are you?"
My answer is swift, "Out."
Frustration is evident in her tone when she replies, "Out is where?" I cross my arms on my chest, if she stopped being so bothered about the fact I refuse to step out, we will both be fine. "You don't have any friends."
"I have friends," I counter. In a room full of people, I will be the guy who sits in a group of bubbly men but barely speaks. Still, I have a lot of friends who understand me.
"You don't have friends here."
This girl. I wipe my face with the hem of my tank top and mutter a reply to her and she fires back a question that has a corner of my mouth twitching. There has to be an element in the female gene that gives them the ability to annoy us with little efforts.
If we retaliate by giving them half the same issues they dish to us on a daily, they will break down, yet that's not enough reason for them to stop being so complicated and annoying. I pinch the bridge of my nose and groan. Women. Can't hate them, can't live without them. Fucking feelings. My stupid self will probably jump into Ifunaya's arms if she so much as waved at me right now.
"Shut up," I say to Chi going on about God knows what. She talks too much, we are no longer kids, I can handle myself without her constant fussing. "What do you want?"
She hisses. "Pauline is not picking her calls."
My heart slows to a painful stop, I grip the phone and put it off speaker. "Okay," I say in a small voice and try not to overthink.
She is fine. She has to be. The whole point of informing Mr Adams about her departure was to keep her safe, he will do better at keeping an eye on her. She doesn't want me.
Chi's sigh pulls me out of my reverie, it tugs at my heartstrings and my fingers dig into my scalp. I expect my sister to shout at me for giving a half-assed reply and acting indifferent about my girlfriend. Yes, my girlfriend because she thinks everything is fine, as far as she is concerned, we are still a couple. I am too much of a coward to let her know Ifunaya broke things off with me. I don't believe she did, it still feels so surreal.
"Chi?" I call out when she remains mute.
"Doesn't it bother you? She is not picking her calls," I keep shut, "I want to go home."
The disappointment in her voice strikes me, I pace the length of the kitchen and mumble a string of curse words. Some things are not meant to be, some couples are not too. She doesn't want me. I stop in front of the door, turn around to empty the porridge into a plate and saunter to the parlour with a tray.
"Home? To Enugu?" I pause for her reply, she sighs and I nod. We have been here long enough, too long and this is the best time to leave, to resume our life back in the state we have always belonged. "When?"
"Today?" She chuckles, I place a hand on my chest to stop my heart from poking out. We can't leave anytime soon. "I don't know yet, we will have to inform everyone."
There is an undertone to that last word, a name she must have deduced I pretend too hard to dislike the mention of it. When it comes to that beautiful, annoying woman, I am a goner. I settle on the sofa, place the tray on my crossed legs and toy with the food in my plate. Ifunaya loves plantain, she prefers it overripe and fried, I like it boiled.
"Have you been to her house?" She is quick to catch on. "Office? She resumed work."
Chi stopped working, I have no idea why but she must have gotten tired, she was never supposed to work here for this long. I take a bite from the plate, Chi sighs and replies in the negative. After extracting a promise from her to do that, she bade me farewell and I can't stop a part of me from hoping she talks sense into her friend's head. Words can hurt and hers did badly.
The doorbell rings, I take another bite from my plate until I remember the guards are gone. I sent them back. They are of no use if Ifunaya can vanish under their watch. I still wonder where she hid because I checked that room twice. That woman will be the death of me. I set the tray on the centre table and amble to see the unwanted guest.
Chike offers me a small smile once the door opens, I hide my surprise behind a grin and step aside for him to come in. He nods and heads straight for the long couch opposite where I was seated, my eyes widen and I almost ask him to find another seat. That's her favourite spot. The only couch that can accommodate us, I get to cuddle her while she binge-watches those boring, crime documentaries I am forced to sit through. I never understand her obsession with the reenactment of those gory, depressing tales.
"We broke up."
His voice comes out small, almost inaudible but the silence lends his words volume. My eyes leave the sofa to stare at his face, my appetite dies and I let out a bitter laugh.
"It's the season," I mutter and snicker like a man who has found a jewel he thought lost.
I am certain he doesn't get the lame joke but he laughs along, his laughter also lacking mirth and I swipe the back of my hand over my forehead. His confession shouldn't have me feeling relieved but it does. Misery does better with a companion and I am all too glad to have him as one. I am not alone.
"Yeah, it's the season," he says and runs his hands through his face. The third button of his white collared shirt is in the wrong hole, his appearance is similar to that of a man who left his house in a hurry. Maybe it's the new code with women, to break up in the evening so we can think ourselves to sleep.
We sit in companionable silence, lending each other strength by our presence until a strangled sound escapes him. Unsure what to do, I leave for the kitchen and return with a bottle of Vodka and wine glasses. I make myself comfortable at the foot of the couch Chike is seated, ignoring the intimate images of me and my baby the new sitting position seems to evoke. He pours himself an excess amount of the alcohol, I snatch it from his grip before he downs it in one gulp and empty half of the content into my cup.
"Women are scum."
My fingers halt on the remote, I flip through stations until I settle on SuperSport where Juventus, his team is playing against Real Madrid. A sigh escapes me, I want to agree but I find myself saying, "Not all of them."
Short-tempered and annoying, yes, but my baby is not a scum and I won't have her any other way. Well, with better control of her temper and words when in a mood, she will be the best. That's achievable with a bit of practice and bribery, Shawarma can do the trick. I spare Chike a glance, his brown hair points in all directions, same way mine does when I have a spent a greater part of the day running my fingers through my scalp.
His eyes look like he is fighting the urge to burst out in tears, my index finger circles the rim of my glass and I sigh. I know how he feels all too well, more than I care to admit, no one should have to feel that way.
Emotions, heartbreaks are cruel bitches, they will drive grown men over the edge, leave them whimpering and bawling like babies. Chike's gaze lowers to the tiled floors as if it will reveal the cure to his pain, he stretches his empty glass to me and I pour half of the content of mine into it. He empties the cup in one gulp like it doesn't burn, smacks his lips and I grimace.
We are not the best of friends, neighbours who have a civilised relationship, exchange pleasantries and playful banter on the few occasions we see. I get teased for not being such a big fan of football like him and he gets a double dose of that for his terrible kitchen skills until we met but none of those conversations has prepared me for this.
"What happened?" I ask and collect his cup.
With his hands empty, Chike starts rubbing his palms over his knees and I almost slap him. I stifle a groan, she does that too. Why does he keep reminding me of her? I push the bottle behind me, I don't know why I have it since I barely drink. Staring straight ahead with my arms resting on my knees, I sigh and finally take a sip. Maybe I do know.
Chi drinks, she loves her alcohol but does well to ration it and I never stop her from sneaking a few bottles into my house. The burning liquid travels down my throat, I cringe and drop my cup beside the bottle, the taste hasn't improved, it still makes no sense. But she will always disagree. Good thing she is getting married soon, she can continue the argument about the benefits of alcohol with Obinna, not me. I don't see any benefits to it but that's not her cup of tea.
"She cheated." His palms stop moving on his knees, his head raises slowly and I follow his gaze to the wall in front of us. "It is my fault," he whispers, "I never have her time."
My head moves left and right, that has to be the lamest excuse I have heard yet. "Na, it is not your fault. It never was," he sighs, "what she did was on her, not you." My palm lands awkwardly on his shoulder, I give it a small squeeze. "You deserve better than a woman who cheats on you. And if you will blame yourself for anything, it shouldn't be this."
He casts me a glance, a tiny smile crawls up his lips and I nod, bringing my hand to my knee. I don't know his girlfriend, I never met her but we spent hours trying to perfect a recipe so he could surprise her. To make her happy. He deserves better and I hope he realises it. If any woman is a scum, it's her.
"What happened with your babe?" he asks.
A sad smile flits to my lips, I cross my legs and stare at the tile with a concentration that causes my head to throb. "We fought. It's too stupid of a fight to even talk about it," I say with a small laugh and massage my temples, "God." I grit my teeth. "I love her but women can be so annoying sometimes."
"Tell me something I don't know," he says. A corner of my lips twitches, he runs his fingers through his face. "Sometimes I wish there was a third gender so we can ignore women when they start misbehaving."
We burst out laughing. To be a man with an option of ignoring the female gender in their entirety, I chuckle. As much as I share in his sentiments, I can't imagine that world.
"What will you do?" Chike shrugs and kicks off his shoes. "Whatever you decide to do, you will always have my support." As those words leave my lips, a wave of guilt hits me, he doesn't know who I am. I shrug the feeling off, no need to tell him, we are leaving this city sooner than later. He pats my shoulder and I waggle a finger at his face. "Hey, don't forget, it's on her, not you. Her loss, not yours. This is not your fault."
"I'm so tempted to take her back," he says, "I want to. She apologised but I know she will still cheat." He casts me a pained look and sighs. "My work consumes a chunk of my time and until I find a better job, I am stuck there. Why can't she try to understand?"
To that, I have no reply, even if I do, I doubt he wants to hear it. Cheating is my breaking point, I will never take her back. "You don't like where you work?" He shrugs, I shake my head and smile. "If you have a chance to work somewhere else, where will it be?"
"World Bank, CBN, ADB. Money is the koko."
His seriousness and honesty as he mentions the most popular financial institutions in the country causes a laugh to escape me. He doesn't even have a banking degree but that has never mattered as much as knowing the right people with the ability to pull strings.
"You're a thief, you know that, right?" He flashes me a grin, I chuckle, thankful to drop the subject of women and heartbreaks temporarily. "We will see what we can do," he nods and I hold a hand up to stop him from standing, "but I make no promises."
"Yes, boss." I snicker, almost tempted to let him know how influential my father is so I can watch his expression transform. "You should call your babe," he picks the remote, "rather than sit here and listen to a grown man like me complain." I nod, this is better than coming home to a woman who hurts your feelings when you are already at your lowest. "Call her, you know you want to."
I want to but I can't let that slide, she might repeat it. The commentator screams from the TV as Chike increases the volume, I sigh, maybe I should let it slide. Love forgives. My phone rings, surprise takes over my face at the name of the caller, I snatch the bottle of Vodka and make my way to a more private area. This better be good news, they have done enough damage to my ego.
**********
I was really hoping to finish this story by the end of this week. But life had other plans, it was looking at me like 😏😏 We will see how it goes though, I'll still try, hopefully we will get back on track.
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