Photographs
21
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A sense of nostalgia settles over me as I wake up in Special’s arms.
It’s warm.
It’s different.
I like it!
I hate that the hours have flown by so fast. But there are things I’m grateful for. A smile curves my lips as a flashback from last night teases my memory. I bite my lips, loving the warmth of his body seeping through the thin fabric of my underwear, and my pulse quickens.
Eyeroll. Yes, I wore my underwear to bed because he convinced me to.
“Awake?” his sleepy husky voice asks, breathing warmth down my neck while his arm tightens around me instinctively, pulling me closer.
Fighting the urge to scratch the back of my throat, I push my butt against his crotch in response .
Much to my disappointment, he groans, “Stooop,” before slightly pulling away from me. “You slept well?”
Of course I did. “Hmm mmh,” I murmur, blindly reaching for his erection behind me.
“Fifi stop—It’s Sunday. I was waiting for you to wake up so we can go to church.”
Church?
Oh. It’s Sunday!
I’ve never attended a Catholic church and I’m eager to attend just to experience this aspect of his life. It would become my reality soon, that is, once he brings up marriage.
We arrive at the church, its grand facade towering above us. The atmosphere is serene, a quiet reverence that envelops the surroundings. Special and I step inside, the soft echoes of our footsteps blending with the hushed whispers of fellow worshippers.
Intricate stained-glass windows cast vibrant patterns of light on the pews. The scent of incense hangs in the air, mingling with the soft strains of hymns as we find our seats.
Service commences and I find myself drawn into the rhythm of the rituals—the readings, the prayers, and the moments of reflection. It’s completely different from what I’m used to.
The priest delivers his sermon, his words touch on distractions of the world, the need to focus, and what we need to be doing personally and for the kingdom.
I listen, my thoughts drifting between the message being shared and the memories I’ve created during my time here with Special.
When the service draws to a close, we exit the church and make our way back to the apartment. So far, it’s been a splendid visit, save for that one time, which I won’t count as anything. What’s a relationship without misunderstandings and reconciliations?
Yeah… It’s not that you get into misunderstandings, it’s how you come out of it stronger and better. And come to think of it, I’m in love with London!
But i t’s not easy keeping my mind in this happy mode because from time to time, my mind occasionally drifts back to his reaction that one time.
Yes, he was happy and proud, until he saw what I’ll be earning. It’s not even that, it’s the subtle tension that colored his tone when he mentioned that I can’t be earning more than he does.
“I think you should think deeply before accepting the offer.”
I pause in my thoughts, leaning against the windowsill of the living room, gazing out at the cityscape beyond. The view is breathtaking, but my mind is preoccupied.
I’ve always been fiercely independent, determined to carve out my path and achieve my goals. But now, faced with the reality of my success potentially impacting our relationship, I don’t know what to do. What if I send him half of my salary as savings with plans that we use it in purchasing a house. Or I—
A gentle knock on the door startles me out of my contemplation, and I turn to find him entering the room. He’s been doing laundry in the kitchen, while I chose to chill by myself in the bedroom.
His smile is warm, but there’s a hint of something in his eyes. What’s that about?
“Lost in thought?” he asks, joining me by the window. His hands are on the sill while he looks out.
Shrugging, I offer a small smile. “Just reflecting on things.”
“Like?”
“The job offer.”
He nods, his gaze fixed on the cityscape as well. “Um, about last night... I want you to know that I’m proud of your achievements. You’ve worked hard, and you deserve everything that comes your way.”
Inhaling deeply, I turn to him. “I know. And I’m grateful for your support.” His gaze meets mine. “But I also want you to know that our relationship isn’t defined by salaries or titles. It’s about us—should be about us.”
His eyes softens as he reaches for my arm. “You’re right, baby. I shouldn’t let this come between us. It’s just...” he smirks, “I’ll have to adjust to it, I suppose.”
I smi le, warming up at his openness to trying. “We’re a team, baby. I’ve got you.”
His smile returns, warmer now, as he squeezes my hand. “You always have a way of putting things in perspective.”
He hugs me from behind, and I lean into him, gazing out at the city. I wish I could have this moment for life. So, this is what I’ve been missing because of long-distance. I wish I don’t have to go back to Dublin.
But wait. Why can’t he move to Dublin? He’s at least confessed to earning less than I do, so… hmm. I’ll see if I can find a way to convince him to start looking for jobs in Dublin. Besides, since his current job offers remote opportunities, maybe he could request a change in location.
Yes!
That’s not a bad idea.
I’m about to ask if his company has branches in Ireland when I hear a vibration. He turns me in his arms and I know what’s next. Don’t go—
“Excuse me.” He gently pulls away, pulling out his phone. He glances at the caller ID, smiles, then accepts the call.
“Hey, Destiny,” he says, his voice warm and friendly as he tucks a hand in his pocket. “How’s everything on your end?”
Destiny? That’s not a guy’s name.
Tossing an irritated look outside the window, my heart rate quickens just a fraction. Who the heck is Destiny? Why did her name evoke a smile from his lips before he picked?
I try to focus on the view beyond the window, the city’s bustling energy a stark contrast to the internal turmoil that’s brewing within me. His side of the conversation is just snippets of words and soft chuckles that offers nothing significant. Then it gets quiet.
Stealing a glance at him, I notice he’s wearing a relaxed smile. Forget that we’ve not seen in person for years, I know that look. It’s a look reserved for those he’s comfortable with, those who know him well.
Destiny…
He’s never mentioned that name. How is it that he knows all my friends and classmates, even the names of my colleagues and has never mentioned Destiny.
Frown ing, I fold my arms, annoyed at myself for thinking and feeling this way, but I can’t help it! I’ve always prided myself on my ability to communicate openly with him, to address any concerns that arise between us. But this—this feels different.
The call continues, seemingly lighthearted, and I find myself lost in my own thoughts, grappling with curiosity, doubt, and a touch of jealousy that I’m reluctant to acknowledge.
He’s even telling her his girlfriend his here, laughs, then says he’s having a good time. Finally, he ends the call with a promise to catch up soon.
Turning to me, he smiles. “Sorry about that. That was Destiny, she’s an old friend. Alice introduced me to her.”
I offer a small smile in return, my attempt at nonchalance. “No need to apologize.”
He walks over to me smirking. “You were squeezing your face.”
Oh, I wish I could slap that grin off his face! What’s funny?
“You know you can’t hide your expression. What is it?”
I nod, trying to keep my tone casual. “Nothing. It’s just that I haven’t heard of her. An old friend, huh? How did you guys become friends?”
Special chuckles, pulling me into his arms as he leads me to the couch. “It’s a bit of a funny story, actually. Alice and Destiny were roommates during their first year in uni. She was born here but sent to Nigeria to live with her grandparents when she was a teenager because she was acting out. She fully moved to the UK some months back. Did I mention she’s a model and an airhostess? She needed help with getting an apartment, and Alice thought I could help her out so she doesn’t get scammed. I did. We became friends in the process. I think you’ll like her.”
I listen intently, feeling relieved that it was just him helping out. Still, what if there’s more to the story? Are there details he’s leaving out? Because, the way he got all excited saying, Did I mention she’s a model and an airhostess, didn’t sound normal at all. I decide to probe further.
I’ll like her? I don’t think so. “Yeah… You seem pretty close,” I add, raising an eyebrow.
He chuckles again, rubbing his hand on his face. “Yeah, we stay in touch. She’s an air hostess, so she travels a lot, and we catch up whenever we can. She lives in this building. ”
“She does?” I hope that octave wasn’t my voice projecting my shock as I sit up from his arms.
“Relax…” He pulls me back into his arms. “Relax jor. Who do you think made the jollof rice you ate last night?”
“Special?!”
He laughs, crossing an arm over his stomach in an attempt to catch his breath.
“This is not funny oh.”
“She’s a hustler.”
“And so?”
“She has a boyfriend.”
“She better. Let me see her picture.”
He laughs softly to himself, his chest vibrating beneath my palm.
“You will tell me what is funny now,” I warn. “Show me her picture, jare.”
He pulls up her social media page and she actually looks good—a pretty biracial lady.
“She’s okay,” I say dismissively.
“Look at you. You look so cute. Madam protective.”
Hissing, I roll my eyes. “Like you won’t do worse. I was sha wondering why that call sounded so somehow.”
“Fifi baby…” he says, offering me a cute, apologetic smile. “She had a misunderstanding with her guy and wanted to share how my suggestion helped.”
“Hmm.” I shrug.
He gently tugs my chin to look into my eyes. “Don’t you trust me?”
After a couple of seconds reflecting on my surprise visit, how we’ve been bonding, I nod, feeling a sense of reassurance. “It’s okay.” I roll my eyes, smiling. “I trust you.”
He squeezes me in a side hug, before landing a kiss to my forehead, then my lips. “I’m glad you do. You mean the world to me, you get?”
“Ye ah…”
“I love you.”
Heat warms my cheek upon hearing those three words in person. “I love you, too.”
We continue talking, and the unease that had gripped me earlier begins to dissipate. I realize that in any relationship, there will always be aspects of our partner’s past and present that we’re not privy to, and that’s okay. As long as there’s trust and love. It’s also okay to feel the occasional pangs of jealousy, because that proves the love and bond you share is unique.
For lunch, he fries plantain and eggs, promising to make his famous boli and sauce when next I visit. Before going to pack my bags for my trip to the airport, I help him clear the table, feeling a pang of reluctance for leaving. Special hums a tune as he tidies up the kitchen, shooing me to go and pack my bags.
My thoughts occasionally flit back to Destiny . I know I shouldn’t let it bother me, but I’m only human.
I finish packing and glance around the room, taking in the details—the framed photographs, the cozy blanket on the bed, the faint scent of his cologne in the air. I’ll miss this…
“Everything packed?” he asks.
I zip up my bag and nod, turning to face him. “Yeah, all set.”
He smiles wanly, his eyes mirroring my feelings. “It’s been an amazing weekend, hasn’t it?”
I approach him, placing a hand on his cheek. “Hmm mmh.”
The silence between us speaks volumes. I’ve learnt more about him than I’ve done in the over six years that I’ve known him. There’s nothing like eating, sleeping, and living with someone. It puts things in perspective.
He pulls me into an embrace, and I rest my head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat against my cheek.
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” he murmurs.
I hug him tighter, breathing in the familiarity of his scent. “I know. But we should plan to see each other again soon.”
“I agree. We need to properly plan your next visit.” With a final, lingering sweet kiss, he pulls away, then grabs my bag. “I don’t want you missing your flight.”
“Yeah, I’ll check my calendar.” My phone dings. “I think my ride is here.”
With my bags in tow, we step out of his apartment. His hand finds mine, and as usual, we intertwine our fingers.
On the ride to the airport, his hand rests on my knee, while I soak in the view of people rushing by, lost in their own thoughts and agendas. My gaze constantly returns to the man beside me, my fingers brushing against his, trying to etch his warmth into my soul.
At the airport, we join the bustling crowd of travelers, navigating to the security and check-in. A pang of sadness hits me hard as we approach where our paths will diverge once again. Like that time in Nigeria, we stand there, wishing for more time.
Special takes both of my hands in his, his gaze unwavering. “I’ll miss you.”
I smile, my heart heavy but my spirit uplifted by his words. “I’ll miss you too.”
He leans in, places a tender kiss on my lips, then reluctantly releases my hands.
Stepping onto the plane, I find my window seat that gives me the opportunity to stare longingly at the city I’ve come to know as a second home. The memories of our time together flood my thoughts, and I’m grateful for the voice that told me to take a chance on this trip. Experiencing this slice of heaven has shown me what I’m missing and I can’t wait!
When the airhostesses begin their demonstration, my mind quickly pans to thoughts of Destiny.
“I’m not doing that…” I murmur to myself, “I’m not ruining this experience.”
With a determined smile, I settle into my seat, feeling happy and unbothered.