SARAAAAHHHH!

SARAAAAHHHH!

Oladiipo Abimbola

I didn’t look down. I took a deep breath and launched from the topmost floor of H block in Obafemi Awolowo Hall and felt myself fly. For a fleeting moment, I tried to banish from my mind how Oladeji would feel when he heard about this.

I knew Oladeji was trouble from the first day I met him. There was something that felt too much from that very first day I saw him and it wasn’t about his daunting handsomeness. Forget the height, flawless dark skin and dimples. Asides the Yoruba Demon looks, there was this…sort of slickness I couldn’t put a name to. It bothered me a lot that he knew the right things to say, to allay my fears, to convince me about certain things I wouldn’t consider doing on my own. From the very moment I met him, he sort of took over how I lived my life, and many decisions which I took were taken with serious consideration about what he would think of me. However, the day I went through with the big decision of taking my life, he was the last thing on my mind. I know this sounds selfish, but I did it for me and me alone.

I met him through my course mate who was also my roommate and meeting with him had led to a whirlwind romance while I was in my first year and having a full taste of freedom. I didn’t know how to manage. Of course he managed it beyond my wildest thoughts and tore my otherwise naïve eyes. I had so many firsts with him, all of which lead to that final big decision I had to make.

Like the first time I went to a night party, it was sometime after the first semester exams in my first year and I was all shades of depressed because I just had the first dose of how fierce UI lecturers could be and was afraid that I already failed. My roommates would not stop talking about erosion and tsunami and I was already scared beyond my wits. The party was Deji’s idea of chilling out.

“Come on, it will be fun. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you” he said it in such a carefree manner that I envied. I guessed it was because he was already used to the system that he didn’t allow himself to be bothered by his results anymore.

The party turned out to be a crazed one at Spoons and Swallows. We had our faces painted at the venue, and I could have sworn that I was starting to enjoy the rowdy display when boo disappeared. I tried calling him but he didn’t pick up- not that I would fault him for that, knowing that the place was very noisy. When he reappeared, I wound myself around him perhaps to send a message to gawking girls that I was already taken when I smelled…something?

“Oladeji, did you smoke? Do you smoke?”

“What?” He feigned.

“You smoked.” I definitely wasn’t asking this time

“No o”

“I can smell cigarettes on you right now”

“My friends smoked, okay? I was with them, didn’t do anything though”

I could have sworn I smelled it lingering on his breath despite the mint. I wanted to yell at him that what kind of person made friends with people who smoked and even hanged around as they did it if he had no intention of joining the bandwagon. He was practically breathing smoky Tomtom but it was neither the right time nor place for a fight. I suddenly felt sick of everything; I didn’t know what I was doing with Deji and why we were there at the moment…the place where youngsters like us had their faces painted in weird colours and wild patterns, where girls wore skimpy blouses with necklines that threatened to spill out their breasts if they dared breath over skintight trousers and slinky dresses that barely covered their backsides. My mother would turn in her grave if she saw me in such company and probably chase after me on sighting my crop top and extremely short skirt. I wanted to go back to my hostel and I told him just that.

“Wait” he said incredulously “I said I didn’t smoke cigarettes”

“It is not about that.” I tried to resist the urge to grit my teeth “I just can’t deal…I feel out of place right now and I just can’t. You can stay if you want to, I’ll find my way.” I started to walk away, leaving him standing there with that look still on his face

“Sarah, you do know you’re overreacting, right?” He caught up with me outside

“I said…”

“I know what you said. How can you expect me to relax and enjoy this if you’re not here?”

“This isn’t going to work.” No sweet-talk please

He squinted as he looked at his phone “you can’t get to Awo before twelve. Its seven minutes to”

“You don’t understand. I just can’t go back there…all…these things might be normal for you but I can’t”

“Stop crying” he said quietly as he enfolded me in a warm hug. I didn’t even know I had started crying. Months later, I would reflect on that evening, count the numbers of parties I had attended (wild and not) and laugh at my display of utter naivety.

We stood there as I awaited divine intervention.

“Come stay with me”

I looked up pleadingly “You don’t understand” don’t make me do this.  Please.

“I mean in my hostel. Most of the girls here are sleeping in male hostels tonight anyways and…”

I went. So, the first male hostel I ever slept in was Independence Hall. I tossed all night, unable to get out of my head the fact that I was in a boy’s bed, wearing his shirt on my skimpy outfit, wrapped in his bedclothes and- ultimately, in his arms.

I knew that the relationship was progressing farther at a quicker pace than I ever thought it would, leaning towards the extreme even. I was going to places and doing things I never ever thought I could. I knew I had to start setting boundaries before things got out of hand and I self-destructed but I just couldn’t bring myself to open my stupid mouth and do it (I loved him way too senseless to ruin the heady feeling).  At least, not until that fateful Friday evening when I walked into his room unexpectedly and saw him…

To be continued.