The light turned and they crossed. Janoma turned back to Nalini. ‘And I guess no one is talking about this Mary Prince?’
‘Not so many, no.’
‘I know this from home. Everyone likes to talk about the oil or, in fact, make money from it. No one wants to talk about the devastation.’
‘Here too. Not oil, of course. But some of these streets are proper poor. People, I mean. But if you look at it from the outside, how does it look to you?’
‘Yeah, I understand. Especially here.’ They had stopped again. The construction here took over half the street and the whole facade of the train station. They looked back at the hotel that had recently reopened and towered above the whole block. ‘Very … what is the word …’
‘Posh.’ Afsana put her arm through Janoma’s. ‘Posh, and let me just say it: a bit over the top.’
Karl held on to Abu’s sleeve and the two whispered. Janoma looked at them. Karl jerked his head back.
‘Hey, I want to show Janoma something before she has to be back at her aunt’s. We’ll catch up with you later.’
Abu led the group away after Janoma promised to meet with Nalini and Afsana again. Like very soon. As soon as possible. Karl pulled Janoma into the smaller street opposite. He pointed at a bench ahead and they sat.
‘Me and you.’ Janoma was grinning.
‘Finally.’ He ran his hands over her back and played with her neck. His lips followed and his tongue played with her ear.
‘I couldn’t even speak with everyone around.’
‘I noticed! I come all the way and all you do is walk around like your legs are made of wood. Without a joint for the knee.’
He laughed. She put her arms around him and pulled him closer.
‘I like your people.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Thank you! This was a real welcome party. And I already had one.’
He had been at the airport three days before. With flowers and everything. Her auntie was picking her up but he couldn’t not go. Auntie came with a cousin and her two children. Karl managed to hide the flowers in a plastic bag – it was too early to lose Auntie’s support by way of suspicion – and hitched a ride. Unfortunately, he had to sit in the front. No secret hand-holding. They had dropped him at the tube back in town and all he had managed was a hug. The day after, Janoma had to do the family rounds. Meet everyone she hadn’t seen in years or ever met in the first place. On her second day, she could finally get away for a couple of hours but Rebecca demanded to be kept in the loop. ‘I will give you time but I want to meet her first. Not last again.’
They had spent the rest of the short afternoon in Karl’s room before she had to rush back.
‘I liked your texts yesterday evening.’
‘Which part?’ Karl could smell her body. It made his nose flare the slightest, his eyes unfocused. He put his head on her shoulder.
‘The part where you said I was even more beautiful than you remembered. That you missed me. That you couldn’t believe how lucky you are, we are, and I’m here.’
She took his head into her hands, looked at him.
‘Pretty much all of it then.’ His lips were curling upward. She laughed and pulled his face closer. Took his upper lip between hers. Played with it travelling from one corner of his mouth to the other and back on the bottom lip. When she extended her tongue, Karl felt the dizziness.
‘Mum is out.’
At his, she sat on top of him. He reached inside her jeans, underneath the underwear and entered. She pulled her top over her head before she leaned in, moving into his hand. His free arm wrapping around her naked torso, he took her nipple inside his mouth, rolled it between his lips. Sucked. Released. Bit. Released. Looked at her as she moved on top of him.
‘There is more here.’
The how to do it. The more of it. The futures that have to be made otherwise they disappear before they have been. How do you do it? How?
37
* * *
The next level
needs not new players
but a change of scenery.
She didn’t reply but her breathing got louder and more rhythmic. She flung her arm around his neck when she came and held on to it.
‘What are you talking about?’ She was still catching her breath.
Karl held her with both arms.
‘What are we going to do?’
His hand was playing with her breasts. He kissed the space between them.
‘The time is already running out.’
There had been possibilities before she arrived. Now the days were speeding by. This would be over before he knew it.
She rolled on to her back next to him. Her knees up, she pulled her feet close to her bum. ‘I think this is when you have the cigarette in the movies.’
He pinched her.
‘What?’
‘I’m trying to talk to you!’
‘And I’m trying to have a moment.’ Her head was turned up and he could see her smiling. He stretched out beside her, blowing through pursed lips.
‘I hate cigarette butts inside the house.’
She nodded.
‘Karl.’
‘What?’
‘Come to Lagos.’
‘To do what?’
She was leaning on her arm now. Her face. It was as exciting as the first time he had seen her in front of her auntie’s fabric shop. Her eyes made his insides ache. The way she smiled with them. At him. She started playing with his shirt. Opened it and pulled his T-shirt up a bit. Kissed the skin underneath.
‘Uncle T has offered me a job once I finish my diploma. Very small, but I could add some of my designs, he says. If it works, then more. If not I can still work for him on his imported lines.’
He turned to her. ‘That’s fucking brilliant! Why didn’t you say anything?’ He grabbed her and pulled her on top of him, rolling from side to side.
‘Because. I want you to come too.’
38
* * *
Everything runs according to how you have set the bar.
Abu slid down the street, light-footed, Karl bouncing behind, grin his on face, shoulders relaxed, dreamy eyes focused. The pair of them like a cut-out from an urban youth-wear magazine. The shades, the textures, the different pieces that came together. All proper. You couldn’t complain. This was style. Except Karl noticed Abu’s trainer now, something black smeared over one side. Funny he hadn’t seen it all these days. How not, like whoa, what was going on? Right? Janoma, all was Janoma now. His attention all over the place.
‘I like her. She’s perfect for you.’
‘Told you.’
Karl was grinning.
‘Your mum’s cool with her?’
‘Loves her. You said I can please people’s parents? You should see Janoma. We should open a centre together, give workshops on how to wrap parents around your finger.’
The sun was finally setting. Abu had met Karl back at King’s Cross station after Karl dropped Janoma off in East London. It got quiet as soon as they entered Argyle Street.
‘Just her aunt. We only have a week and she doesn’t want her to stay at mine.’
Abu waved it off. ‘Take what you get for now. Then make your plans.’
‘Yeah.’
Abu looked at him. ‘You have some plan don’t you? You didn’t go through all of this to never see her again?’
Karl pointed at the black smear on Abu’s trainer but Abu shrugged like he couldn’t care. Did proper mean he had to throw away a pair? Of course not. It just meant that some shit had burned into the side of one of his trainers. He took it as a trophy, a reminder. Big mouth didn’t mean wrong crowd. Not for him. He wasn’t that stupid.
‘There might be a plan.’
Abu was all over the place still, walking the same, taking over the pavement walk as earlier. Happy. His main man and the whole crew. It didn’t get much better than this, did it?
‘I’m listening.’
‘I
t would involve me leaving again.’ Karl avoided Abu’s eyes. ‘Like longer.’
Abu’s head was moving but he didn’t turn to Karl.
‘Yeah.’
‘Yeah what?’
‘I figured this much.’
They stopped in front of the school gate.
‘I mean it’s like new and I don’t even know how and everything, let alone what my mum will say or Godfrey. Of course Godfrey doesn’t have much to say and actually my mum … I’m eighteen innit, but also how would it work and stuff, so really at this point—’
Abu slapped him. Not in the face but on the hand. Took his other hand and placed it on Karl’s mouth. Started laughing.
‘Do you ever shut up?’
Karl surprised, shocked for a sec, then realised his mouth was running and running and he was standing still. Long enough to figure shit out.
‘I’ll come visit.’ And Abu started walking again. ‘A lot.’
Karl, giddy again, followed him, imitating Abu’s bowlegged strut.
The wannabes appeared out of nowhere – trademark anyone? – right at the bottom of the street. This wasn’t their usual route but they cowboy-style positioned themselves in the middle of the pavement, nodding with cocky smiles. Abu started laughing.
‘What’s this supposed to be? A threat?’
Karl, all caught up with what plans could be made, not paying attention until one kicked his shin.
‘You want to go down, like you used to? Carla.’
They had to make their minds up. Was this a question? Was this for effect? Karl all busy with what the heck next. Didn’t even notice the way they tried to tower over them. A whole group of them.
‘But we’re not here for you, sweetheart. We’re here for your friend. Your boyfriend right, you can tell us, we don’t mind. We’re all for gay rights, you know.’
They were five this time. Karl didn’t know the other two. The threesome was familiar. Predictable shit like this was boring, so last season. He had other things on his mind. Abu was still laughing. ‘You really need to start getting your facts straight.’
Karl kicked the shoe that was in front of him back, looked at Abu like not today, so not in the mood. Abu laughed more and more, mouth open, head thrown back. Abu was ready for standing his ground, was defo not getting his arse kicked. Not by some wanna be someone grand.
He put his arm around Karl’s shoulder, whispered, ‘Just follow my lead, I’m making a point here,’ pulled him close, planted his lips on Karl’s, all gentle, all meaning, held on there, soft lips on soft lips, Karl’s face in his hands. He could feel the plumpness pushing back at his. His legs slightly apart as if he was imitating some movie star. Held his lips on Karl’s. Just held them there, steady on his feet, relaxed, taking his time. Then he let go, looked into Karl’s eyes, way deep. Looked and looked and waited, Karl’s face still in his hands. Karl a tad confused, but smiling. Their friendship, it was even more than just tight. It was being yourself. All the fucking way.
Then Abu started talking again, out loud for the shitheads around them but really for Karl: ‘I love you.’
Looked and looked and smiled and raised his voice.
‘I love you, man.’
He stuck two fingers up in the air, took Karl’s hand and walked away. Simple. Hand in hand. Teamwork. He didn’t look back when he started speaking again. ‘Come after me if you want. It’s getting boring now, innit. Seem to be losing your magic; you almost doubled in size. You’re five now?’
It didn’t matter where. It mattered how. How to be in life. And then it came flowing back, right back to the source. Of course not always exactly the same way.
Karl was laughing too. Abu was smooth, you could say what you wanted.
‘If I was you guys, I would take it a bit easy.’ He stopped Abu in his strides, pulling at his hand, turned only his head around. ‘Almost-dead woman? Not very funny, not at all. If not for this one here’ – and he raised Abu’s hand, still holding it – ‘I’d be blabbering whatever I know, and as you know that’s everything there is to know, as far as Abu is concerned.’
‘That wasn’t us.’
They were coming after them. Two of them more nervous than the others now. Caught off guard, there were things to hide and other things that had got out of hand.
‘It was just supposed to be a scare. Those guys, they’re out of control. Next generation, you get me. Still have a point to prove. Wasn’t us at all. Nothing to do—’
‘Why are you telling us? You want some fucking redemption?’
Abu was surprised. Karl had pulled him back, turned around completely. Calm as fuck. No running, no disappearing in his eyes, no nothing, just straight on focus.
‘If I was you I would shut up and leave it. It ain’t going to be your words against Abu’s. It’s hers against yours. And you broke her bloody rib. Punctured lung. Serious shit. But your choice of course, your choice …’
You look at it from this way and it is nothing. You look at it from that way and it is still nothing. You look at it with closed eyes, shut everything out, listening, really seeing, seeing what is there from the inside, and it is everything. You can call it karma, you can call it heavenly intervention – whatever floats your boat. Truth is, you can’t see everything; you can’t bloody take in a whole junction in one go. Not possible. Half of the time you get it wrong, see only the upcoming traffic. And still you’d act as if you’ve invented the effing wheel.
What’s knowing? Same as seeing. Overrated. Unreliable. If you ask me. That’s why they tell the story about the two friends. The friends who had never quarrelled.
You can’t know everything by looking at it.
Impossible. You cannot know what the other sees.
When the time comes, you can ask.
That’s all.
And listen.
Esu, do not undo me,
Do not falsify the words of my mouth,
Do not misguide the movements of my feet,
You who translates yesterday’s words,
Into novel utterances,
Do not undo me,
I bear you sacrifice.
– Yoruba prayer
Acknowledgements
There are many people to thank, too many to name here, but I will say thank you for the numerous acts of kindness and help, handing me from one Nigerian journalist to another and then to activists in the Delta, answering awkward questions or otherwise passing on relevant information.
A special mention is due to Ashai Nicholas for their suggestions and critical comments on an earlier draft of the novel, to Shaun Levin for his solid writerly friendship, and Pamela Lawino for talking things through and her belief in my work.
I would like to thank Tessa McWatt for her mentorship and feedback during the PhD, when the novel was still called Fishing for Naija.
To the whole Cassava Republic team and their collective brilliance. And Bibi Bakare-Yusuf and Jeremy Weate for an incisive editorial eye, helping to elevate this to its new format.
I am grateful for the generous opportunities to develop and write some parts of the novel at various residencies: Hedgebrook, Djerassi and Künstlerdorf Schöppingen.
My deepest gratitude goes to Natalie Popoola for her unwavering support and faith in me. And to Tamu, who slept next door while I finished this other baby.
By the same author
this is not about sadness
Also by Mail
breach (with Annie Holmes)
Copyright
First published in 2017 by Cassava Republic Press
Abuja – London
Copyright © Olumide Popoola 2017
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transported in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher of this book.
The moral right of Olumide Popoola to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted
by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of Nigeria and the British Library.
ISBN (Nig) 97897855177-1-2
ISBN (UK) 978-1-911115-45-8
eISBN 978-1-911115-46-5
Printed and bound by Bell & Bain Ltd., Glasgow.
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