Chapter 43 #2
The enthusiastic outburst sliced through the air, breaking the charged moment like a klaxon in a silent film.
Chiamaka laughed, then suddenly clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with guilt.
“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t trying to laugh at your tics!”
I chuckled, waving her off before she could spiral.
“No worries. I give people passes when I say f-funny stuff.”
She visibly relaxed.
With a playful nudge of my knee against hers, I asked teasingly, "So, does this boy of interest provide room service with a side of extra attention?"
Chiamaka laughed again, quieter that time.
“He flirts... a lot, but he’s also really sweet and respectful. At least, I think he is. I’m still a virgin, if you’re curious!"
As I looked at her, my smile gradually faded, replaced by a more serious expression, knowing there was something deeper I needed to share with her.
“O-Okay, that never crossed my mind. But listen, Amaka. I’m n-not judging—I’m not even one to talk—but don’t just give your body away because it feels new or exciting.
You d-don’t have to be in love, but you do need to be sure that he sees you, hears you and you respects more than your curves and your smile. ”
She nodded slowly, her fingers playing with the thread on her sleeve again.
“Virginity isn’t some prize to be won or shame to be rid of; it’s just… a choice,” I continued. “And it should be yours… not his… not anybody else’s.”
I sounded like my grandmother in that moment.
I smiled to myself, certain she was looking down on me right then, nodding proudly.
I could almost hear her voice, that warm rasp in the back of my head, reminding me of all the times she told me, ‘Baby, your body is yours before it belongs to anybody else.’ She’d say it while braiding my hair, stirring a pot on the stove or fussing at me for staying out too late—like she knew I’d need those words long after she was gone.
Chiamaka reached over and touched my hand, startling me.
A tic shot through my shoulder, but I masked it with a stretch.
She clamped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.
"Sorry!" she said quickly, her expression shifting to one of concern, as if she feared I might scold her.
I chuckled, my shoulders relaxing as I held up my hands in a gesture of reassurance.
"It's... it's okay. Really."
Her expression softened with relief.
I picked up her hand and enclosed it with mine.
“Even though I never got to meet you, I missed you... in a crazy way.”
Her eyes glistened with tears. “Not crazy. I used to pretend you were sneaking letters to me, but they just never made it. That’s crazy, huh?”
“No,” I whispered. “That’s what I… I should’ve done. Even if I turned my back on them, I shouldn’t have done it to you. So I’m… I’m sorry.”
We clung to each other, tears streaming down our faces as quiet sobs escaped our lips.
My body trembled with an overwhelming rush of emotions, and I found myself blurting out disjointed thoughts and fragments of memories—phrases that spilled from my mouth uncontrollably, like leaves caught in a tempest. Yet, through it all, Chiamaka remained steadfast, her grip tightening around me, as if to anchor us both in that moment of chaos.
The warmth of her presence was a beacon, offering comfort in the shadow of our shared pain.
When we finally pulled apart, Chiamaka took a moment to compose herself, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. With a brave, yet slightly tremulous voice, she asked, “I know this might sound sudden, but… would it be possible for me to stay with you? Just me?”
I felt a rush of uncertainty and stammered, “Um…”
“If it’s okay!” she rushed. “I understand if it’s not!
I realize this is a big request, and it’s not something you can just answer in a heartbeat.
It’s just… I feel like you represent a part of my life that has been missing for so long.
I'd like to understand you better… to see the way you live your daily life. Honestly, the thought of going back to Nigeria fills me with dread.”
I hesitated, my heart fluttering with conflicting emotions.
“I’m not saying no, but… I need to t-talk to my husband first,” I finally said, trying to mask my own trepidation.
She nodded solemnly. "Of course. I’m not trying to force anything."
“I’ll let you know before you leave,” I assured, then stood. “As for now, let’s g-get out of this heat and find something to eat. I know a spot that won’t burn our backs while we chew."
Chiamaka perked up immediately. “Good… because I’m starving! All I had this morning was some hotel fruit that tasted like it missed its calling as a paper towel.”
After dinner, Imanio and I retreated to the living room.
I wore his shirt and nothing else, curled into him on the sofa like a comma.
He was engrossed in his phone, eyes scrolling through a stream of notifications, while his left hand rested gently on my hip.
The TV played softly in the background, an engaging docuseries that neither of us was truly watching but provided a low hum of distraction.
“I talked to my sister,” I announced.
He lifted his gaze from the screen and gave me his full attention, intrigued.
“Oh, yeah? How did that go?”
“She’s sweet, funny, smart… and endlessly curious,” I replied, a smile creeping onto my face at the thought of her. “Oh, and a little too eager to lose her virginity to the hotel bellhop, but not r-reckless. She said he got a dimple and gave her a free bottled water.” I shrugged, laughing.
Imanio snorted. “A dimple and a Dasani? Damn. That’s the starter pack for danger these days?”
I burst out laughing, the joyous sound filling the cozy room, but just as quickly, a tic slipped out, catching me off guard.
“Free water for the womb!” I yelped, my eyes widening in shock as I pressed my hands to my mouth.
He threw his head back against the couch, laughter spilling from him.
“Nah, free water for the womb is wild,” he managed between breaths.
“I hate you!” I muttered playfully, burying my face against his chest.
"You love me,” he replied casually. “And I love when yo’ brain gets creative under pressure.”
I mumbled into his shirt, “Y-you better, ‘cause it’s not going anywhere.”
Imanio tilted my chin so I had to look at him.
“Real shit… I do love you, Naji.”
The words hit me like an unexpected gust of wind, knocking the air right out of me.
My body jerked, and before I could catch it, I shouted, “ Love me down with a spatula! Oh my God,” I groaned, mortified, covering my face with both hands. “Did I really just say?—”
He chuckled. “Yeah, you did.”
“I was surprised! My t-tics don’t do well with confessions!” I protested, still attempting to hide my flushed face.
Imanio gently pulled my hands away.
“Well, get used to hearing it… ‘cause I meant it.”
“I l-love you too,” I whispered, softer than I intended.
Crazy thing is… we hadn’t even known each other two full months. But love isn’t measured in hours or weeks; it’s measured in moments and how someone makes your spirit settle when the world wants to spin you apart. And with Imanio, it felt like my heart had finally found its home.
We shared a soft kiss, and as I pulled back, I shifted my expression to one of seriousness.
“My sister wants to move in with us,” I revealed.
I took a deep breath, ready to explain everything I’d discussed with her. I recounted her desire for a fresh start, especially given the financial troubles our parents might've been facing.
“Damn. So what you wanna do?” he asked after I finished. “The ball is in your court."
I pondered his question briefly, weighing the implications.
“Honestly, I'm for it. She’s i-i-innocent in all of this. She deserves something different… a new scenery… a new life.”
"Then she can stay," he said simply. "She'll have all her needs provided, and she’ll be protected."
I nodded. "That’s something I’m certain of. But I need to know… will this create any issues? For u-us?"
Imanio fixed me with an intense, knowing gaze.
"Naji… if I thought that, I wouldn’t have agreed so quickly… or at all. I think it’s gon’ be straight.”
I nodded.
He rubbed my thigh. “Anything else?"
“I’ve… I’ve been thinking about my house in Mississippi.”
“What about it?”
I hesitated, contemplating how to phrase it.
That part of me—that mercy—was probably my grandmother’s doing.
She’d drilled forgiveness into me like it was stitched into the family Bible, always saying it wasn’t about excusing people but freeing yourself.
And yet, there I was, entertaining the idea of helping the same people who said fuck me and didn’t give a damn about my struggle, and left me carrying the kind of weight that should’ve broken me.
Still, the thought shocked me. Why do I even care?
God surely had a way of bending my heart when I least expected it—reminding me that I was His child, not theirs. That even when blood failed me, grace didn’t. And maybe… just maybe, giving was my way of saying, you couldn’t stop me from becoming more than what you tried to leave me as.
Imanio nodded thoughtfully, taking in my words.
“We can fix it up. New roof. Fresh floors. Maybe even add a porch swing to keep them occupied."
I chuckled. "P-petty.”
"More like peaceful,” he corrected, his tone serious now. “As long as they respect our peace… from a distance."
I returned to the matter at hand. “But if I do a full renovation…”
“ We,” he interjected, correcting me gently.
“If we made it livable again… m-maybe that could serve as their fresh start. I just don’t know how long it would take.”
“Renovations can take anywhere from a month to several years; it all depends on the house’s size and the extent of the work you want done,” he explained.
“It’s not nearly as g-grand as this place; just an average-sized house. And, to be honest, I’m not trying to offer my parents luxury when they gave me their asses to kiss.”
Imanio reared his head back in astonishment. “Not you cussing… in yo’ normal tone.”
I suddenly reached out and tapped his cheek twice—quick, involuntary.
“Face tap! Face tap!” I blurted, blinking hard as my fingers retreated to my lap. “It’s the truth. I just want it to be comfortable enough for them.”
He nodded in agreement, understanding my feelings.
“Well, if we do this, where they gon’ stay in the meantime? Especially since yo’ sister already said she's not trying to go back.”
I sighed heavily, rubbing the back of my neck in frustration.
“Amaka can stay here; that won’t be an issue. But as f-for my parents?” I bit my lip, feeling the tension build. “T-they can’t stay here. I don’t mind covering the hotel cost until the house is done, but…”
My voice trailed off, leaving an unspoken burden dangling in the air. My fingers toyed nervously with his ear.
“But what?” Imanio asked, brows raised slightly in curiosity.
“It… it wouldn’t be my money.”
My shoulders rolled hard, twice, like I was trying to shrug off a lie.
“Dirty dollars don’t buy peace!”
I clenched my jaw and dug my nails into my palm, grounding myself.
“Naji, stop that shit… and I’m not talking about your tics.
I’m yo’ husband. The money you’re stressing over?
I don’t wanna say chump change ‘cause that sounds arrogant, but let’s just call it what it is— light work to me.
I know the owner of that hotel. He actually owes me.
So I can get it extended for next to nothing. It’s done.”
“Th-thank you.”
“I got you. And while we’re on the subject… Naji, don’t ever be scared to spend our money. You’re my wife,” he said, his tone firmer now, but still warm.
“What’s mine is yours. You got my card… run that shit up. It’ll be replaced by the next morning. I promise you that.”
I chuckled, leaning into the moment.
“After what h-happened at the restaurant, I’ll take cash.”
He brushed a hand down my arm.
“Fair enough. But what if I give you your own card? Your name. Your limit— unlimited. ”
“Even better.”
Imanio leaned in, close enough that his words grazed my skin.
“Next time you hesitate, remind yourself who you married. I take care of what’s mine.”
I tilted my head, smirked, and replied, “So do I,” as my hand slid down between us—bold and unbothered—finding exactly what I was looking for.
So many changes were coming, and I could feel the excitement mixed with apprehension.
My sister, someone I never anticipated forging a close connection with, was set to come stay with us.
As for me, I was still adjusting to the reality of being loved so loudly…
so fiercely. I was also confronted with elements of my past that I had always believed were long buried, waiting silently in the shadows.
I was no longer the timid girl I once was—hesitant and fearful of change. The prospect of facing those fresh realities no longer paralyzed me; instead, it invigorated me. I welcomed the uncertainty with open arms, ready to explore the beautiful chaos that lay ahead.