saltwater and open wounds
everyone that loves and is loved will grieve — Dami Ajayi
22.
It's my twenty-second birthday, and I am writing my final exams at Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife. A very good friend, Lake, had introduced me to Passenger's Whispers II in my sophomore year, and I'll Be Your Man had become a favorite song since I no longer could define what path our friendship was headed. Everything between us had grown into hyphens — classmates, friends, reading partners, a love difficult to define. It's February 3rd and I still do not know how to behave on February 3rd. But this day, examination palpitations were quickly shortened by prayers at White Wall and birthday gifts from the woman I had begun to love. A red wine and cream cake waited at the front door of my hostel room, and everything good and beautiful began.
A semester before. In my final year at Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife. I am twenty-one and beginning to have feelings for you. It is that time in the school calendar when we go out to read all night. When lovers steal kisses amidst dying candlelight and lecture theatres hold secrets. We were at Health Sciences Block A, after I had successfully begged you out of your hostel room at Maintenance. This night, I was wearing my favorite Adidas hoodie, Passenger’s A Thousand Matches playing from my earphones, and wearing a borrowed Black Orchid cologne sprayed on my body corners. It’s my final year at Obafemi Awolowo University, and I had sworn to my flatmate that I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend on this cold June night. That night, the moon grew upon us slowly. On the concrete seat outside Health Sciences Block A, I asked you out with unclear words, vague promises, and a heart filled with uncertainties. But you said No.
It is my third year at Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, and I have relatively become popular. Quite intelligent and corky about it. Probe Lecturers at will. Grow bad habits and ticking boxes off my wishlist. I had just discovered a favorite place on campus, Humanities Block 1. Some days in this particular semester, I am the class joker who is in love with a lady out of his league, our classmates will say. I swear I hated this not because it was true, but because I could not make sense of it. I am the rumor spreading like wildfire. I am the gossip on my friend’s lips. On some random day, a good friend of ours is introducing me to Labyrinth’s Jealous. But again, it is our third year at Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, and another friend of ours will break the gossip to me that you are in a relationship with a guy in your fellowship. I would become jealous. I would begin to act cold because I thought we were best of friends and you would not keep such from me. You would say, you did not want to lose our friendship. You would say, you did not know how I would have reacted. This was before the semester I asked you out. How did you expect me to react? I am twenty and I sincerely don't know how to feel about us. Our friendship became hide and seek. Our friendship weirdly grew stronger. Some days, we would spend the lecture-free week together at Erin Ijesha. You would come over to my place. I had little concern for the explanation you would have to make to your boyfriend. I did everything out of a pure heart, for friendship's sake. On bad days, our friendship sought redemption in Labyrinth’s Jealous and old memories.
It is the first semester of my final year at Obafemi Awolowo University. In the first semester, school resumes with new gist. Old friends catch up with old gossip. And nothing changes about Awo boys. On this Saturday morning in this first semester of our final year, I called you as I previously did. To ask how you fare. But this time, I wanted long conversations. Strangely, this call was short. You had ended your relationship with your boyfriend during the holiday. I do not know how to feel, or how to respond. I was indifferent. We became closer. In the first semester of our final year, I had fallen in love with you, deeply. Now, I sleep in your hostel room. Now, we began to plan ourselves in our daily activities. Now, we began to learn love songs together. One night, I would sing Ben.E.King’s Stand by Me into your ears. Same cold nights at Humanities Block 1, I would teach you Asa’s Femi Mo, and laugh at you as you retire into sleep. The first semester of our final year was bliss. The last was better. We would do things at Oduduwa Lecture Theatre, at First Bank Lecture Theatre, in front of the lecture theatre not too far from Archi. Pray at White Wall together. Attend GLT together. Pray together. Cook together. Fell in love with my plantain porridge. We became a thing without a tag.
I'm twenty-two, and these are our final days at Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, writing our research work. I am in your room at Maintenance. It's been a few months since we started keeping up appearances. This time, without a proposal, you became my girlfriend. It was April 2018.
23.
It has been eight-month since we left University, and we have loved each other in our own best possible way in this city, Lagos. Once, I will get stranded on the Island because I had come to see you. On other days, my ferry would suddenly stop at sea. I dare not tell you. I dare not break your heart with fear. I loved you at this moment. I am twenty-two and trying to prove to myself and my parents that I can make money on my own. I would work for the state government. I would tell you about my first job. We will gossip about Lagos corruption and you will tell me about IHS. We always wanted to be in each other’s faces. The city’s popular mall would become our favorite place, and the cinema, for reasons best known to us. You would buy Tendai Huchu’s The Maestro, The Magistrate & The Mathematician novel for me at the city’s popular mall. You would write I found a book and I loved it on its front page. I would give you a black wrist bracelet I bought with my monthly allowance at the city’s popular mall. I would go broke throughout the month. But I will do this a million times for you. You loved me too. We loved ourselves in the best possible way. I would come to the Island from the Mainland, and get worried when it was getting late, so as not to miss the ferry. I would lie to my parents about my whereabouts— cause who talks about relationships when he should be out there making money or anything more important than love. You would ask why I had to hide us from my parents. Maybe you were right. Maybe my parents were wrong after all. Maybe love was just as important as career was.
This was 2018. It was November, it was time to serve our fatherland. We had prayed at White Wall in our days in Ife never to be far from each other. We would not have known what to do with ourselves. We would not have known how to survive. God loved us and we were posted to Bayelsa. Bayelsa would become our favorite place. Bayelsa would hold so many memories of us. Bayelsa would also threaten our relationship. I was only twenty-two and would make pranks that you hated. Same pranks we cultivated in our final year in University. Once at Sports Center, Ife, you told me you were going back to your ex. I did worse. But we loved each other still. We were only young. Loving each other without manuals, making our own mistakes. Bayelsa would become our little secret. But things began to fall apart in Bayelsa.
You became twenty-two in December. In December, I am always away with my family. You would hate my cold happy birthday greeting. You would hate how I celebrated your twenty-second birthday. In spite of me sending all my savings to you. This money was small. But I would not tell you that was all I had with me. You were less concerned about my money. I wanted to prove to my parents that I had myself together. In December, I wanted to make you happy with the little I had. You loved me in whatever way I acted even when you didn’t understand. But December broke us. You were relocated to Lagos and I had to go back to Bayelsa. This was the first time we will be in different cities. You would say that we will cope. You would say that even when we were together in Lagos, we were not seeing each other often. You would say it was my fault. You were right. I was working to survive and prove a point. I was working and fighting all the demons in me questioning my abilities. I wanted to be successful but it was not looking like it. I was not making good enough money to turn up at our favorite places every week. I know you would not have minded anyway. But I would. In our different cities, we would always try to make time for each other. Call. But distance kills quality time. And quality time is your love language. I suffered in Bayelsa and you knew it. I lost myself. You would encourage me. You were doing fine in Lagos, maybe. I was happy about your acting dreams. You would get mad at me for not coming for your acting academy graduation. Rightfully so. I have always wanted to be with you on your happy days. You would go with a different guy. We would disagree over this. I would apologize and you would do the same. I would travel down to Lagos thrice during my service year, maybe four times. I would lie to you that I had something to do in Lagos. This was the same thing I told my parents. I did not want you to feel sorry for me. I did not want you to think Yenagoa to Lagos was a long distance to cover for you. Once, on this many travels, the bus I boarded, would have an accident before Ore. Another time, a tire would go up in flames. But I would have done this all over again, just to see you. I was so sure you would have done the same. Our love suffered during our service year, but we persevered. I am twenty-three, making mistakes, loving you in the best possible way I could. You were twenty-two and you did the same.
24.
At twenty-four, our priorities had begun to change. We were growing and our needs were beginning to be different. Reality began to stare at our faces. After our service year, my dad would call his elite friends to get me a job. I was not lucky with them. My brothers were. I would cry, pray and do all sorts to earn. It is hard to love in a country that sets out to frustrate you. I would work with my dad for any pay. I would get offers at some other places. We were navigating life differently, but we still wanted our love to be great, regardless. You told me what happened to your dad on our way back from La Campagne Tropicana. Then, there was the pandemic. These things don't happen without leaving dents. I would learn years later. Our love would suffer in these moments. But somehow we were still lucky. We fought but said sorry. We were beginning to hit a rocky patch. Yet we were still lucky. We persevered and we both got good jobs. But our love suffered. At twenty-four, I said more sorry than I said I love you. We knew things had to begin to change about us. We would talk about it. We would forgive ourselves. We would find what was lost. If it was broken, we told ourselves it could be fixed. Maybe we were not gentle enough with ourselves. We had just survived a pandemic. We had just gotten into a new phase in our lives. Our jobs were beginning to be demanding. We were beginning to settle into new phases. We could only talk at night. We could only talk when we were both tired. We tried seeing each other often, but adulthood did what adulthood does. But we loved ourselves still. We tried. At twenty-four, everything good began to change.
25.
You had begun to talk more about marriage, about career, about leaving the country, about long-term plans, about seeing my parents. You were right. I was only twenty-five. I was trying to make things work for us in the best possible way I could. Maybe I was wrong. We would see your aunt. You would invite me over to your parent's events and I would find time to come around. But things began to fall apart at twenty-five. How do I explain that work has begun to take a toll on me? How do I explain that things were not all rosy at home? How do I explain that home was beginning to break me? How do I explain other people's tragedy? You would say I should open up. But this was not about me. How could I tell of bad endings when I am not the main protagonist. But these things began to grow into bad habits on us. I knew this was not us, I knew we needed time to find ourselves again. I needed time to grieve. How could I have explained the effect of my grandmother's death to you? How could I have explained how I lost faith in everything I believed in after my aunt's death. You would say you will understand. But trust me, you would not have. How could I have explained that people I loved so much were beginning to live in debt and I had to show up. How could I have explained my lead's appraisal of my work? I tried but it is not your fault that you did not understand. And I was fine with this. We would see your family and friends to make things work. We would pray together at AllStars Church to make things work. We really wanted to make this thing work. But ripe things will always go sour. The more we tried, the more we were becoming strangers. I would tell you and convince myself that this would pass. I would say sorry. You would say sorry. We would try to do new things. Our monthly review and self-retrospection were starting to feel like work. We were hardly doing our book and bible review. We were hardly seeing each other. You would attempt to end this relationship early. Once at Freedom Park. But as in our previous attempt, we would reconcile and make it work. But we knew we were in gray zones. We were having fireflies. I would get admission to Ibadan, and the stress was beginning to be a lot. You would joke about kissing someone else. You would say those were only jokes. Some jokes end badly. I would learn to forget this. Maybe you wanted a way out. Maybe not. We still had loads of memories together. At Ebony Life. Maryland Mall was a mess. We knew we loved each other, the way we had never loved before.
At twenty-five, we would decide to catch up at Unilag. You had just gotten admission at Unilag and you were to do your screening. You wanted me to be part of this process. On God's earth, I wanted to. But things happened and I could not come early. At twenty-five, it feels like everything is working against us. The first time you would come to Yaba. You would break up with me two weeks after. I would beg for us. I swear, I wanted us back. But what had happened at Dodo Pizza had happened.
26.
I am twenty-six now, and a lot of things have changed. I still love you. Maybe not that way anymore. Maybe I am lying. Maybe I won't love anyone that way any time soon. Maybe I still miss you. In the early years of twenty-six, I used to think about what I could have done right. Let you see my parents. Wear more native attires, cause you said it would look good on me. I do now not because of you. Maybe, I am lying. Maybe I should have allowed our arguments to die early or never start one. I don't give much thought to these things any longer. I have stopped to miss things I cannot change. I have stopped trying to resurrect dead things. Twenty-six has been about forgiveness, healing, letting go, about feeling warmth, about hands wide open to new things, about building. Twenty-six has been about accepting my own human and the possibilities of change. I am traveling often now. Seeing new places and people. Enjoying my own company. Desiring and Dreaming.
I am learning to say No even when it breaks my heart. I am learning to say No to people and emotions. I am thinking in marathons and not sprints. I am thinking in long distances. I am thinking about love in its purest form and holding people I love to the light. My choices have become more expensive. I tell my friends to add a tax on it. I still think of you occasionally. I still think of you in past and present tense. I am here shedding off the scabs. I am embracing my own uniqueness. And I hope you are doing just the same.
note: the author says that this is an open-heart surgery and should be read with that in mind.
