10 DAYS - Episode 3
Enjoy this new year post.
Juliana Nkemdiri
A lot of people refute the idea of love at first sight, I’m not one of such people. Anyway, it depends on your definition of love at first sight. You catch a glimpse of someone drifting by, probably with his folks beside him, and you expect to love the fellow at once? No way, sister.
Love at first sight is what you feel the very first time you share the same space with him. His smile, his frown, his gestures, his comportment, his scent, his words, and even way down to his fart. Did you love these things instantly?
Yes, I did with Butch, and I have Captain to thank.
Very few people knew Butch in secondary school until he was made the dining prefect. That was one post that suited him well. Butch was steadfast with his belly demands, and his belly always demanded the school dining food. Even on red days when all prefects were on duty and you couldn’t get out of the dining without some strokes of the cane, albeit you’re clean and missing from every prefect’s blacklist, Butch still kept it a date.
He was the best dining prefect the school ever had. He made the dining his territory and decided what happened in it. He stopped other prefects from bringing mayhem to the dining. He influenced the Dining Master to get the Principal to look into the quality and quantity of food served to the students, and fought for the introduction of desert after meal. He’d have influenced appetizer too, but in a Federal Government College where the students were always hungry, you’ll as well be demanding for ‘a feast’ as daily meals. The students in lower classes loved him. We, his mates, loved him. The Principal and Staff adored him.
I loved him before then. I loved him back when he was the boy who wore dirty clothes and strapped the biggest backpack. I’d seen him pass by my class a couple of times before I decided to know him; before I decided for that ‘love at first sight’ moment. You’re getting confused, right? Please stick to my definition.
It was hard to fathom what a clean, fresh kid like Captain had to do with a slob like Butch. Seeing him pass by my class with Captain was what triggered my interest. If Captain, who was my class, could move with him, then there’s more to him than meets the eye.
I told Captain the new guy he’s moving with was handsome (not as handsome as my face and tone of voice proclaimed). He laughed and told me, the guy was dirty. I told him we’re all dirty. He laughed again and we remembered the times we’d snuck out of night prep to hide in the darkness to feel ourselves. He told me his kind of dirty was the physical type. I told him dirty was dirty anywhere and it’d be nice to get double dirty. He discovered I was serious, then made the arrangement.
Alone in that class with Butch, I discovered a lot of things. I discovered a boy who was extrememly happy with himself. I discovered a creative character that radiated love. But you don’t get to feel this love because you’d never give yourself the chance to get within his radius. He hadn’t known girl when Captain left us together, so, it was expected he fret. Surprisingly, he didn’t, not then. Instead, he went to a separate sit, got out a pen and paper and started sketching. I was amused when I asked what he was doing. It was such a rhetorical question. I knew what he was doing and I posed like a demon to justify the demon he’d definitely sketch in the end.
It took thirty minutes for him to finish drawing me, and when he passed me the sheet, I could only stare wordlessly at him. He’d got me perfectly in my playful-witchy pose. What he passed to me was what I’d see in the mirror posing that way, if the mirror interpreted in blue lines, curves and shades. I wanted to kiss him. It was the plenty words of praise and thanks my mouth was itching to say but couldn’t. He knew it as I started forward.
His eyes were huge with fright for something he thought was wrong, or maybe something he thought he’d ruin. It must’ve been the later because he didn’t step back. The clack of metal on metal stole the moment from me. It was Captain with the devil grin on his face. I quickly folded the sheet and told Butch we’d meet again. But he was fleeing the room as I said it.
“He draws you comic.” I said to Captain.
The surprise on his face was stupefying.
“Yes. How do you know?”
The only visual arty thing Captain was a sucker for was Comic books. His room at home was full of them. It was the reason he didn’t mind being seen with a pig. He got fresh new Comics the school never afforded or gave him a chance to afford from Butch.
I clung to Butch. I’d leave my friends to run to meet him whenever I saw him passing, and I always enjoyed the expression on his face. It was the oh-God-what-again sort. Sometimes I’d notice him late, he’d be flying like someone set a pack of hounds loose on him. I’d laugh loud. I enjoyed it. I loved him trying to avoid me.
But I almost always got what I wanted. I started sitting at the same table with Butch in the dining – the one place he can’t run away from. When the dining prefects decided to get things right again and reshuffled the sitting arrangement so that you only sat with your house members, I still sat with Butch. I bought most of the female prefects, my parents settled every visiting day, so it was easy for me to have whatever I wanted. My house prefect, who never discussed anything but boys and sex, and who was then dating the dining prefect was too pleased to get me sitting with Butch. If we were in the same class, I’d have sat on the same seat with him. Sadly, he was in A (technical class) and I was in C (commercial class).
People started talking about us. Many jeered, some others studied us with bewilderment. Butch had to stop fighting my company. He accepted me and soon liked my presence. We soon became a team of three – Me, Butch and Captain. When we completed that year, and progressed to SS2, Butch came back a changed person. He started wearing clean, quality clothing, good sandals and expensive perfumes.
Many people were shocked. They’d thought he was from a poor home. Captain was shocked too. As much as he’d known Butch before me, there was a lot he didn’t know. You have to persist before Butch tells you something personal. I was that word, Persistence. I was more even, I was a pest. Butch was from a wealthy Catholic family that upheld virtues. They didn’t like attention.
Butch had accepted his identity as an artist and had decided to make it reflect in his looks. He was at war with his family for that singular decision. They didn’t visit him the whole of that year. You wouldn’t know from the way he walked about smiling cheerfully at people and things. I discovered from his drawings. He drew a lot of angry humans and creatures; landscapes in utter chaos and skies torn apart by aliens. I persisted in asking before he disclosed to me.
That year, a lot of people begged to join the clique – most of them girls, forgetting how they scorned Butch and thought Me and Captain fools. Butch would always smile at them and tell them there was no clique. We were just best friends with a common interest. And brother, you know it’s a hard job getting to be someone’s best friend.
Butch wasn’t interested in dating any girl in school, not even me. It was something I couldn’t understand and something he never explained to me. Everywhere, we went together. Everybody thought we were lovers. They saw what happened outside, but when we’re together like lovers, Butch still acted like we were in the open where the external eyes scrutinized. He made it clear that I was the sister he never had, and I made it clear that he was the lover I’ve never had. But a man’s word always stands.
Sad world we live in.
I swallow a full shot of dark rum back here in my present world and the girls cheer. We’re at Butch’s birthday party, me and the girls. Just as it’s always whiskey for Captain and Beer for Butch (though he drinks other types of alcohol), mine is dark rum. There’s something alluring to the throat in its rich, light darkness. It looks crystalline from the bottle and leaves me feeling the same way after taking it.
The game continues. Pamela dare the girls to stick their hands into each other’s pants. I smile as they stretch hands and dig into their pants, their eyes expectant of the pleasure that’ll hit them. Callista, her new self-given name is Craig, reaches into my shorts. I bat away her hand hard, smiling cheerfully so they don’t pick the underlying, true emotion – hate.
“Another shot for Baby Girl.” They scream in delight. Even Callista is screaming and smiling. Because I happen to be the girl they all want to hit at, I’ve been named Baby Girl.
I stretch my hand and Pleasance, with her small breasts, piercings all over her face, and moderate ass made non-existent in baggy three-quarter shorts, passes me the shot. She lingers while giving me the shot to caress my fingers with hers. It leaves me feeling a way I can’t explain but detest.
I swallow the shot and the DJ announces that the cakes have arrived. The girls start getting out of their seats. I get out of mine too and stagger. Pleasance is quick to hold me steady. Her hand brushes my breasts in a bid to hold my waist. She realises I’m braless, sees my nipples go erect and reaches again to hold me. This time, she’ll be doing more than holding.
“I’m fine.” I say.
“Are you sure you’re not drunk?” She asks, and I know she wishes I am. These girls have been looking for a way to break me. There’s no easier thing than having the better of a drunk woman.
“I’ll just have some cake and dance and I’ll be fine.”
“You want me to dance with you?”
“Some other time, okay?”
She nods her head in understanding and goes to catch up with the other girls. I’m quite sure they’re going to have an orgy later in the night. It’s dark already and I’m wondering if the party will continue till dawn. These people look like it’s what they want. I’m left alone at this moment and I know it wouldn’t take long for the girls to notice my absence. I’ll call it quits with them tomorrow.
Things are going to get nasty but I’ll be rid of them in the end. But when you’re Juliana Nkemdiri, you know you’ll be in the company of lesbians again, and soon enough.
Since discovering that Butch wouldn’t take me out of Sisterzone, I’ve found solace in the company of girls who don’t fancy the company of men much. I’ve been with some men in between, all of them turned out to be bunch of assholes, who’d place themselves and their gratifications prime before the woman. Some of these men usually have no place for the women unless as tools to their pleasure. These girls are sweet but it turns sour when they begin to want more than your talks and laughter. They are concerned about you unlike these men and ensure you’re left satisfied at everything. Sadly, our ways are diametric.
I move away from the lounge we’d had to ourselves and head towards the stairs. Some minutes ago, I’d caught glance of Butch. He’d given me the look that suggested I come see him when I’m free and taken the stairs.
I’m tipsy and lightheaded but not drunk. Some say there’s no difference between the two and I don’t know if there is because I’ve never been drunk. I’ve drank to the extent where I knew the logic behind every dance move and danced them to near perfection on the dancefloor; drank to that stage where you vomit everything your stomach doesn’t find comfortable, down to your intestines and supporting components (which of course can’t be ejected) because even those don’t feel comfortable again in there… but I’ve never been drunk.
I take the steps with great care so I don’t trip. They double and even triple. The trick, as explained to me by Captain, is to focus on the image in the centre. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I worried I’ve kept Butch waiting too long. I blame the girls and their stupid game. I look to the brighter side – one, I’ll get rid of them tomorrow; two, I’m going to spend time with Butch – and concentrate on maintaining my step as well as my balance.
I get to the end of it at last and walk the passage that leads to two of the three rooms upstairs. I sight Butch knocking on the door of the last room. It’s Edisemi’s room. He has his head and one hand resting on the door. His posture is that of a crushed man. My head clears momentarily – or, well, it’s always been clear – and I grow angry at him.
He’s getting himself sad over a woman when I’m here to do everything to make him happy. How do you untie the blindfold another woman has covered a man’s eyes with? Falling in love with Edisemi was the biggest mistake Butch ever made. I’ve never seen Butch make mistakes, he even assured me all the times I disclosed how wrong Edisemi was for him that he’s doing the right thing to love her. He might not be making a mistake, but not accepting me could be a mistake.
I sober up again (yeah, it’s all an act, right?) and walk to him. He looks at me momentarily and continues knocking. He calls his girl’s name once, twice, thrice… I don’t like the sound of the name. I throw myself on him and he stops calling her name. I’m his point of focus now. I rejoice inside. This is the way it’s supposed to be.
“Let’s fuck tonight, Butch.” I say out loud and laugh seductively. Yes, it’s an act.
“Juli, you’re drunk.” Butch says. It seems to come from a tunnel.
“No, I’m not. Kiss me, boo.” I crane with my pouted lips to his face.
“Stop it, Juli. You’re not alright.”
“Shhhhh, I know what I’m doing. Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss…”
Then I puke all over him. My head swoons. This is supposed to be an act but the puking, it wasn’t part of it.
“Juli, shit!”
I’m on all fours on the ground and trying to expel the things that wouldn’t stay put in my gut. Butch lifts me. His hands brush my breasts and my nipples harden. I feel good. I feel like shredding the damn top and gluing his hands to the breasts. They’ve been needing caressing for a long time. A really long time.
“Kiss me, boo and I’ll be alright.”
“Let’s get you cleaned.” He says and this time it comes from a room in another world.
“Kiss me, Butch.”
I retch, but nothing comes out. I find myself staring at the ceiling. They double, triple, then focus. Butch’s face comes into view once in a while and I smile whenever it does. It’s the face I want to kiss. I understand I’m in transit, I’m not drunk after all, but the world… it’s not steady. It’s falling apart.
“Butch, kiss me while we still have time.”
“There’s all the time in the world, dear.”
That should be the sweetest thing I’ve heard in a while. I close my eyes and smile and dimly I hear a door close. I understand I’m alone with Butch… in a shimmering world.
©storyestate
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