The First Time. (3)

‘Good evening ma.’ I greeted hesitantly, taking a quick scan of her expression to confirm my fears.

She must be tired of seeing me in her house. I had become a constant figure. Relatively constant, that is. One that pops up whenever her son is in town.

'Ehe,good evening.’ she replied, barely looking up. Barely acknowledging my presence.

I tried putting myself in her shoes as I watched her fan the charcoal stove, turn the maize and then some pears. What was she thinking?

She continued the conversation she was having with her daughters as seamlessly as it most likely began.

Her shoes felt. . . Empty.

I sat on the sofa, careful not to let my skirt ride higher than it was already. That was impossible. My bag took a protective place on my lap again.

He came to sit lazily beside me,a plate filled with maize in one hand,his phone in the other. He sat like he owned the place and stretched his legs like he bought the tables. He didn’t.

But then,that’s always been him. Graceful and utterly beautiful. God left nothing to be desired while creating him and he knew it. Gods! He knew it.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked, removing an errant seed from the corner of my lips.

‘Yes. . .’ I replied, butterflies doing an unwelcome summersault in my belly. ‘I just keep wondering if your mum likes me.’

He turned to stare at me. ‘You’re still worried about that?’ he asked,a hint of frustration playing in his tone. ‘It’s been what? 3 years?’

‘I know. I know. . .’ I pouted. ‘I just can’t tell if she does or not. She’s always so cold.’

‘She’s that way to everyone.’ he answered, rubbing his eyes. ‘I’ve told you that before.’

Well,yeah. He did, but a part of me still wanted her to really like me. I can’t even fathom why. It’s not like I’d be getting married to him. I would never dream of that. . .

Mm. That’s a lie.

Half a maize down and almost all the pears gone I turned to look at him, wondering what brought him back. He was fixated on his phone and barely paid any attention to me or the maize that should be for the both of us. I prayed he had changed. I hoped he had. I needed him to. I missed him. My heart ached a little because I knew he most likely hadn’t. I’d been bitten a little more than four times and somehow had grown incapable of being shy. It didn’t seem like he was here to bite me again. It couldn’t be. Not after eight months.

‘Why are you back?’ I asked,tired of the merry-go-round in my head.

‘To make up for lost time.’ he answered, sparing me a glance. ‘Why?’

‘Why?’ I asked, staring at him in disbelief. ‘WhY?!!!’

‘You appear at my doorstep after eight months and ask why I’m shocked or inquisitive? Curious more like.’ I was getting angry.

‘Wellllll. . . The loss of communication was partly your fault. You blocked me.’ he said, casually licking a pear and still fixated on his phone.

‘I blocked you?!’ Whew. My alarm bells were going off. ‘After you blocked me,that is. Isn’t it?’ I asked, sounding unnaturally calm.

‘Did I block you?’

He didn’t just ask me that!

‘I mean, I can’t really remember.’ he said, amusement dancing in his eyes. ‘I know we had a fight and somehow I got blocked.’

I stared at him.

‘What?’ he asked, somehow still amused.

‘Look,that was a few months ago. We always have a fight. We always lose communication.’ he continued. ‘Agreed. This was the longest. I can’t even tell the accurate number of months but hey, I’m here now. That’s what’s important.’ He shifted his glasses again.

‘So, why are you back Max?’ I asked, the anger in my voice fading. ‘Why? I told you to stay away.’

‘Yet here we are!’ he exclaimed.

‘You wanted to see me too if not you wouldn’t have opened the door.’

That was true.

‘I’m sure you missed me as much as I missed you or we wouldn’t be here right now.’

Also true.

‘I want to make up for lost time. We have a bucket list remember?’ he asked,his eyes glinting with expectation.

I smiled.

We did have a bucket list. Most of it comprising of food and a few fun things like karaoke, going on a roller coaster. . . And food.

‘There was no lost time Max.’ I answered, the anger totally gone. ‘We needed the time apart.’

Scenes from our last conversation months ago flashed painfully through my mind. Me crying, him telling me he couldn’t put up with me,with us. Me crying again, asking what I ever did wrong. Getting angry. Getting blocked. . .

‘We needed the time apart’. I reiterated, my voice weak.

‘Maybe we don’t need it anymore.’ he answered. ‘I need my friend back.’

Wait. What?!

‘Pardon!’

‘I want my friend back.’ he repeated.

‘Your what now?’

‘My friend.’ he answered. . . Again, staring at me like I had grown horns.

I probably had because why would he. . .

‘Where are you going?’ he asked.

‘Home.’ I answered, removing his power bank from my bag, checking to be sure everything was in place and standing up to open the door.

‘Thank you ma.’ I shouted halfway through the door, not giving a rats ass if she would still like me after my dramatic exit or not.

‘Wait!’

I kept walking. I might have broken into a half run because I heard a chuckle.

‘Can you just stop already?’

‘Stop what Max?’ I asked, refusing to look back. ‘Stop what?’

I slowed down a little. ‘Tell me what I should stop.’

‘Should I stop believing something good can come out of Nazareth?’ I screamed. . .just loud enough. ‘Or maybe stop closing my eyes to how much of a narcissistic bastard you really are?’

‘I’m not a narcissistic. . . Ok, you know what? You’re angry,and you. . .’

‘Of course I am angry asshole!’ I shouted.

‘Language!’ he muttered.

‘I am angry!’ I continued, totally oblivious to his feigned modesty. ‘You pretend not to remember what went down months ago, show up at my doorstep and tell me you want your 'friend' back.’

‘Sooo, the 'friend' thing is the problem here?’ he asked, adjusting the damn glasses.

‘Isn’t that obvious?’ I was on the verge of tears now. ‘Who the hell is your friend?! I haven’t been your friend for a very long time and you know it. You’ve always known. We’re wayy more than friends.’ I was realllly on the verge of tears.

‘I’m not your friend Max. I don’t want to be your friend. I’ve never wanted to.’ My voice broke.

I walked faster now. A tear was threatening to escape. I was angry. Livid. Friends?! How could he? He was aware of just how deeply I loved him. He knew it like he knew his name. It was part of the reasons we had a fight. He couldn’t handle me or so he said. And now he’s back for us to be friends? Friends?!

For chrissakes who did I offend?

‘Cherry’

My steps slowed. I could feel his smile. He knew it’d have that effect.

‘Please wait.’

I did.

‘I didn’t mean to trigger you.’

Of course you didn’t.

‘I just. . . I know we’re more than friends. But we were friends before we became more. That’s what made us stronger. That’s why we can still stand each other.’ His fingers went to his glasses. Again.

‘I’ve not been able to find that with anyone else.’ he continued. ‘What I have with you. You know, the long talks. Finishing each other’s sentences. Thoroughly understanding each other. I never really have to explain myself to you. You just know. We just know.’ The damn glasses again.

‘Are your glasses heavy?’ I asked, finally finding my voice.

He chuckled.

‘No. They aren’t.’ He let them be.

‘I want our friendship back Cherry.’ he said, taking my hands. ‘I want you back.’

The anger faded. It didn’t stand a chance anyways. It never really did. The love I had for him would always be stronger. I looked up at him, trying to read his mind. I missed him. Much more than I cared to admit and chasing him away was the least on my to-do list. It felt good to have him back,to be wrapped in his embrace again. Enveloped in his four-eyed gaze.

‘I can’t do situationships with you anymore Max.’ I answered, finally.

‘I don’t have the emotional capacity for that anymore.’ I continued. ‘It’s either a friendship or a relationship.’

I sounded crazy. I was crazy! I just went crazy on him for wanting our ‘friendship’ back and here I was suggesting the same damn thing.

‘Do you understand?’ I asked. ‘I can’t. . .’

‘I do. I totally do. I can’t handle it any more than you can.’ he answered,his gaze wandering.

‘So?’ I asked, half hoping he’d choose the latter of my options. Totally hoping,if I’m being honest.

‘Can you come to Enugu this weekend?’ he asked,his fingers in his hair this time. ‘I know you haven’t been out and about much. You need some time off from home and school stress.’

I stared at him. Is he crazy?

‘Can you come? There’s somewhere I want to take you.’ he asked, taking my hands and meeting my gaze this time. ‘There’s something I want to show you.’

‘Yes.’

. . . To be continued.