Same Difference [A Queer Nigerian Experience]

12 | MORE GOOD LIFE

Ossai exited, and suddenly I sensed a certain influence. He had been getting on my nerves for quite a while, so retaliating felt satisfying, yet it stung since I knew it was my responsibility to sort things out. At least, I wanted to enjoy the peace and calm without Ossai for a bit.

I resumed my search for Maxwell's number and located it under the name 'Max'. When I dialed, Maxwell answered almost instantly, and my excitement burst out, "Thank you so much." I gushed with the phone against my ear. I realized it didn't magically fix everything, but it made a difference. On his end, Maxwell was just as pleased to be a short-term solution.

"I'm going to Investor's side," Maxwell mentioned. I had hoped he'd return so I could personally express my gratitude, but he wasn't. Somehow, I sensed I might have given him the wrong impression, making him think I didn't want him around. I usually preferred living solo, but having him for one more night wouldn't hurt. "Prudence is having a birthday party tomorrow; they said I should ask if you'd like to come to make up for what happened last time." Maxwell proposed. I recalled Prudence's birthday, but I hadn't expected an invitation.

I took a moment to ponder; it was clearly Prudence's initiative to invite me and mend things. I had already accepted Investor's no apology, so I didn't feel the need for reconciliation, but I couldn't turn down their invitation.

"Come on na, I wouldn't want to be a third wheel" Maxwell persuaded, the idea of having him with me was comforting, but I couldn't cling to him throughout the party.

"Where's it happening?" I displayed interest.

"Investor's." Maxwell replied. I nodded, even though he couldn't see it. After ending the call, various thoughts flooded my mind. I didn't want to regret it, but I realized I often did things just because of Maxwell. Even though Prudence was a former schoolmate, albeit not well acquainted, and I wanted to support her, deep down, I knew my primary motivation was still Maxwell.

The birthday couldn't have arrived at a more opportune moment. I needed a distraction from my grief, so I started planning what to wear and what gift to get Prudence. Despite having classes the next day, I considered skipping them since Prudence wasn't attending, deeming them less crucial. While eager to shift my focus away from my phone, I remembered the priority was retrieving my SIM and blocking the other one for my safety. That task needed completion before anything else. As for contacting my father, I decided to postpone it for later. I geared up for the upcoming responsibilities; it was a task I hadn't tackled before, and while I would have preferred someone like Ossai to accompany and assist, I had to navigate it on my own.
...

I hopped on a bike to Investor's place. Even though I was familiar with the area, I couldn't recall the turns, and Maxwell's directions weren't much help. Hesitant to disturb him again, I resisted calling and decided to figure it out on my own. Despite my shyness, I approached a saleswoman and asked for directions, using the exact description Maxwell provided. She guided me, and in appreciation, I decided to purchase something from her shop. Considering what to get Prudence as a gift, I opted not to go overboard due to the limited money in my bank account after retrieving my SIM. I settled on a pack of Hollandia yogurt for 1,200 naira.

The saleswoman wrapped it in a nylon and handed it over after I completed the transfer. As I followed the directions, the mental image of the road finally materialized, and I strolled down it. Upon entering the compound, it was noisier, a contrast from when I first visited. Expensive cars were lined up on the terrace. Following the sounds to the back, where they had relocated, I found the door ajar. Inside, guys, clearly yahoo boys from their haircut down to their footwear, were exiting. They glanced at me curiously, and I quickly muttered a greeting without waiting for a response.

As I entered the chilly room, Prudence caught my eye, engrossed in fixing her eyelash in front of a mirror. Trying to break the ice, I began singing "happy birthday to you..." even though I found it a bit cringe; it was the best entrance I could come up with. She paused, turning to me with a smile, looking amusing with one eyelash half-fixed. As she acknowledged me, my voice started to waver, and I awkwardly stopped singing. She graciously accepted the Hollandia yogurt, placing it beside fancier bottles of champagne and beer. I couldn't help but feel a bit foolish for not getting a more extravagant gift.