Oxygen

“Love shouldn't hurt like this,” they love to repeat that shit all the time. But, really, what do they know?

They don’t get it. They don’t understand what it feels like—the rush of blood straight to your head, the sweaty palms, the dryness in your throat, the way time seems to freeze whenever they look at you, or the frantic pounding of your heart. They’ve never felt that all-consuming adrenaline, the paralyzing fear of losing them. They’ve never tasted the intoxicating high of what love can be.

But I have. I know what it feels like. Maduka was the love of my life, so, what could they possibly understand? They don’t.

I want to be with him forever. That’s the truth.

"So you guys broke up again? What is it this time? You caught him cheating again? He caught you cheating? You guys are like the poster children for toxic relationships, seriously." Staniel rolled his eyes at me with that signature 'I’m-done-with-you' look, and I threw my own eye roll right back at him, but with a lot more sass.

Before I met Maduka, it was just me and Staniel—queer besties. I was the first bisexual girl anyone knew about at our secondary school (well, as public as you could be in a Nigerian boarding school without outright declaring it), and Staniel?

 He was the first openly gay boy there. But there was something different about him. He was a man—a man—but he still had that perfect blend of feminine energy. He could fight like a pro yet, he smelled amazing, he was boy-razz yet, he was written-by-a-woman, he was the star of our school football team—the best striker in our set and he was still boldly and unapologetically attracted to only men.

We became best friends exactly two weeks after meeting. I’d loudly mocked his hideous yellow shoes—they were really really ugly—and expected him to shy away. Instead, he stared me down like I was the one who needed to back off, swiping his nose like I smelled bad. The entire class burst out laughing. I hated him on sight, but two weeks later, I found out he was also into the same sex—because someone in school thought it would be funny to write “Faggot” on his desk with what was clearly the sharp end of a math-set compass but intead of shrinking in shame, he whipped out his own compass, wrote “Proud” on top, and drew jizz dripping off the “d.” and that was it. I knew I had found my soulmate. 

Best friends always start off hating each other, right?

Staniel also spotted the handwriting the day after and, without hesitation, beat the living daylights out of the guy who’d done it, sending him straight to the school clinic which was how I discovered he could fight like an actual pro. 

"No, we didn't break up, and he’s never cheated. He just—"

"Creates drama and breaks up with you, only for you to find out he’s been making out with someone else on his university’s blog. Yeah, that’s totally unique. No man has ever done that before!"

"No, shut up, idiot. We didn't break up, and I don't know, man. I need advice." I sighed in retreat and spread my legs on my bed while laying on my stomach. 

"Advice? Here’s some for you: You deserve better. Sometimes, I wish I was straight so I could scoop you up. And yes, that’s a massive compliment coming from a gay guy. A gay man wishes he was straight so he could be with you, go throw a goat to the river goddess your grandma worships in celebration." Staniel added sarcastically and I giggled because my grandmother actually threw a live goat into a river in our village last year because the gods demanded it.

I loved all our little inside jokes. 

"And yes, you might be intellectually a little challenged, to the point where I was actually relieved when I found out our school paid for WAEC runs because I seriously thought you were going to fail, also for an entire session you kept referring to compasses as 'that sharp thingy you draw a circle with' even though countless times I corrected you with its proper name, I mean how does a girl keep forgetting what a compass is called, don't even get me started on the first time we wrote a test together and you kept looking into my work but even after doing all of that you still got a 4 over 10, a fou—"

"Get to the point, Stan." I just had to cut in. 

Like okay fine! I've been fighting the 'dumb blonde' accusations even as a Nigerian brown-haired girl but who needs education anyway? Plus, I was diagnosed with dyslexia last year, so... that basically explains everything.

"Alright, the point is: You might have some flaws, but damn, you’re a top babe. And if you want my advice, I’d say just break up with him—for good this time. High school sweethearts are overrated. We’re gonna graduate uni in two years, and you've had the same boyfriend the whole time. You’ve literally only been with him. Maduka being your only relationship yardstick? That’s insane."

"Maduka was your friend!"

"Sure, until you two started sneaking around. You’d come watch me practice football, but leave with him instead. Yeah, right. Friend indeed, I had a crush on that boy you bitch. "

*And I said I didn't know!" 

"Sure. Ain't that what we all say. Look, I've been over it but the truth is still this, Maduka hurts you, and love shouldn't hurt like this."

"Whatever, Stan. I need advice."

"What else? This is the only advice you need in life."

"An outfit choice. Duh. It’s Maduka’s birthday party tonight, and his mom personally invited me. She trusts me to ‘oversee’—"

"She just wants to make sure you don’t let him screw someone in her bedroom or her diamond closet.”

Oh, the diamond closet. Mrs. Chinenye Kamsi Nndo, Maduka’s mom, owned the most jaw-dropping collection of diamonds I’d ever seen. The Lagos Times even did a feature on it. The closet was more of a museum exhibit than a storage space.

Maduka had been caught doing way too much in that closet—first with the maid’s daughter and then, more recently during one of our breaks, on his parents’ bed with the maid herself. They finally fired her.

So, Staniel wasn’t wrong. His mother wanted me around because she figured if I keep him preoccupied all nigh long, he wasn't entering her diamond closet to defile it. 

I didn’t argue. I just stood up from my bed, walked over to my wardrobe while he followed me and tossed him a black lace gown with a long slit. The heart-shaped black nipple covers made it flashy, but still public-appropriate. He sniffed it, nodded in approval. "Brand new. Dior, huh? But this is from a lingerie set, right? Wearing lingerie outside now?"

"Yes. Lingerie outside."

"Imagine if men walked around in boxers. There'd be riots."

"Bitch, it's not that deep."

"I'm just saying, women get away with a lot of things because we don't call women losers enough." 

Wait a minute, "Excuse me?" I rose my head up and quirked an eyebrow at him. 

He chuckled, "Please, show me the next option."

I pulled out a simple orange jumpsuit. Boring as hell, but I only had two choices for tonight: draw attention to myself or blend in. 

If I unblocked Maduka first and messaged him, I could be the perfect girlfriend. But if I showed up with him still blocked, dressed in my first outfit, I could watch him squirm as I danced with other men. Women didn’t make him jealous, which sometimes sucked, because it was like he didn't take into account that I was actually bisexual. A woman could easily steal me away, and it always bugged me how he truly never saw that as a possibility.

"So what’s the real deal here? Two outfits, two choices. What am I really deciding?"

“If you must know. Making Maduka jealous or being the perfect arm-candy girlfriend tonight.” I said, Staniel rolled his eyes and rifled through my wardrobe, pulling out a red bodycon dress and my highest red heels.

"Option three, darling. Because there’s always a third option we don't see at first. Option three: Go to the party, have fun, and don’t kiss anyone. Please I can't do any more settling fights. I like to be in one not separate one. So, no fights. Just enjoy yourself for once, alright?"

"Yeah, sure," I muttered, but honestly? Easier said than done.

Read Part Two Here