Chapter Thirty-Nine
Davi stops the car in front of the main house.We look at each other and smile, and it’s like things between us never changed, like there was no conversation in the library.
“Your mom is like a ray of sunshine. Thanks for letting me meet her.”
“Thanks for being so cool with everything—singing and all. I know you didn’t really want to.”
“Well, I’m glad I did. It was fun.”
Our eyes stay on each other, but with nothing else to say, we fall silent. That’s when all the tension creeps in and infiltrates the light atmosphere we kept during the ride home. I dig my teeth in my lip, while Davi’s shoulders turn stiff.
“Enore.” He runs his fingers through his hair, tousling the curls. “You breaking up with me.” He pauses and thinks. “It’s because your mom found out about us, isn’t it? She made you do it.”
“Yeah.” But even without my mom giving me the command, our relationship would have ended eventually—as soon I got on a plane to Nigeria.
“Do you think I could meet her—talk to her. Maybe if she got to know me and see how—”
“Davi.” I sigh, let out so much air, my body shrinks and folds into itself. “It’s more complicated than that. My life, right now, is so much more complicated than that.”
“Yeah. I know. And I didn’t mean to act like I get what you’re going through. Or to shove my advice about talking to your mom down your throat. You’re right. We’re different in a lot of ways, and I don’t understand what it’s like for you. But I hope you’ll give me a chance to learn because…” A curl falls over his forehead; it dangles, covering his right eye until he pushes it backward and looks at me. “I love you, Enore.”
My dad used to tell me that love is an action. He repeated that often, drilled it into my head and Esosa’s. And as if his reminders weren’t enough, he showed us exactly what he meant. He treated my mom like a queen. He respected and supported her. He was kind and selfless, placing her needs ahead of his. He did all that to show me and Esosa how to identify love, so it was always clear to us. Today, more than ever, I appreciate his lessons. Because the moment Davi says he loves me, I refer to my memories and look for the evidence. And there’s a substantial amount, enough to support his claim and enough to convince me.
Tears fill my eyes, but I can’t decide if they’re triggered by happiness or another emotion, one that makes this moment less enjoyable. Davi is watching me anxiously, waiting for my response. I should tell him I love him. Because I do. And if I say it, we would kiss as if our lives depended on it. We would be so enamored with each other, everything would seem possible—us, Juilliard, a future in America. And when we finally pull apart, panting and grinning like lovesick fools, I would remember the various complications in my life—my mother’s disapproval and, of course, our return to Nigeria. In one moment, we would be ecstatic and the next, I would have to break the difficult news to him.
I could play out that hypothetical outcome, or I could spare us both and break the news to him right now.
“I’m going back to Nigeria once the semester is over. My whole family is.”
He frowns and shrinks back. His mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. After a beat, he shakes his head. “Wait. For good?”
I nod.
“But why?”
“Everything—my father’s death, the move here—has been difficult for my mom. She’s been struggling. And she found out I’d been lying about the musical and Juilliard. And dating you.”
He nods slowly.
“Now she thinks it’s best for us to go back to Nigeria.”
“You just got here, and now you’re leaving?” His head falls into his palms. “This can’t be happening.”
It’s probably resonating with him that once I’m gone, we’ll likely never see each other again. It seems wrong to feel the way we do about each other, only to end up on different sides of the world.
When Davi’s eyes, dull with sadness, meet mine, I press my lips together and hold back a cry.
“What are we going to do?” he asks.
“There’s nothing to do.”
“Don’t you want to stay?”
“Of course I do. But what I want doesn’t matter. I’m going to Nigeria, Davi. That’s that.”
He slumps in his chair. Neither of us says a word. We make peace with the utterly hopeless situation, because that’s all there is to do. When a white flake lands on the windscreen, I squint and focus on it. Snow. Big bits fall from the sky. It’s the first time I’ve seen snow, and it comes at this very moment. If I was overly sentimental, I would interpret the timing as a sign, a sign to be hopeful and see my situation with a little less pessimism. I shake my head because the last thing I want to do is entertain hope, not when my mom has already bought our tickets to Nigeria.
Before the tears I’ve been fighting back fall, I open the passenger door. “I have to go.”
“But—”
“I’ll see you at school.” At least for a few more weeks. “Bye.” I climb out before he can say anything.
Snow hits my face as I rush toward the guesthouse. The sound of a dribbling basketball gets louder as I get closer. Adrian throws a ball into a hoop and celebrates by clapping. Before he turns around and sees me, I rub the tears from my eyes.
“Where did you go?” he asks.
“Just stepped out for a bit.”
“Right.” He dribbles the ball, then tucks it in his armpit. His black jacket is so puffy, he looks three times his normal size.
“Are our moms back yet?”
“Nope.”
“Oh. Okay.” I sigh with relief, then walk home. “See you later.”
“So you guys are really leaving?”
I pause and turn to him. “Yes.”
“Well, that sucks. I like having you guys around.”
I look at him, frown, and then look away.
“Wait. What was that?” he asks.
“What was what?”
“That look. That look you just gave me.” He walks closer to me. “And don’t you even deny it, ’cause I saw it.”
I suppose denial would be pointless. “I just find it hard to believe you like having me around. Esosa, yes. But not me.”
“Why not you?”
“Well, you’re closer to her. You have been since we got here. We hardly even interact.”
“Yeah, that’s ’cause you don’t want to interact with me. How many times did I ask you to hang out with me and Esosa during the summer? You said no every time. And I totally get you were going through things. But it still kinda came across like you didn’t really like me.”
I gasp. “What? That isn’t true.”
Now he gives me the same look I gave him.
“Okay. Fine. I wasn’t the most social person when I first came. Understandably, right?”
“Yeah. Understandably. But when you became a social butterfly, you never once fluttered to me.”
I want to take this conversation seriously, but with a statement like that, I’m not sure I can. I burst out laughing, and he does too.
“Seriously?” I ask.
“Well, you get my point.”
“Yeah.” I stop laughing and nod. “I do. And I’m sorry. I guess I just got carried away with other things.”
“The musical, your new friends, your boyfriend.”
“Yeah. I’m really sorry.”
“Well, we’ve still got time.”
“Only a few weeks,” I say.
“Better than nothing.” He tosses the ball to me and although I fumble, I manage to hold it. “Down for a game?”
“Are you joking? It’s snowing and freezing.”
“If you move around enough, you won’t feel the cold.” He bounces on his feet. “Okay, show me what you’ve got.”
“Um… that would be nothing. I don’t know how to play basketball.”
“Lucky for you, you’ve got a damn good teacher, so go on.”
I dribble the ball like an amateur and gain more confidence once Adrian gives me some tips. Somehow, I get the ball into the net. The celebration I have with my cousin after scoring is the one thing preventing me from completely breaking down.
My fingers are cold. My nose is runny. But I’ll stay out here a little longer to avoid the empty suitcase in my room.