Same Difference [A Queer Nigerian Experience]

16 | THE FRIEND REVOLUTION

"I'm sure you know my roommate, Kennedy"

I gradually lowered my phone from my ear, slipping it into my pocket without responding to the voice message. "Yes, of course! or are there any other Kennedys in our department?" I asked playfully, trying to see if there were indeed any others.

"Actually I think there's one Kenny-" Bukky believed.

"That's Kehinde, not Kennedy" Kennedy himself corrected, mentioning that we had a twin in our department who went by the nickname Kenny. It became clearer that I might have been texting the wrong person, which I dreaded would happen.

Maxwell must have been cackling wherever he was, because he was correct, and truth be told, I was glad he was. I could finally get the answers I had been seeking all this time. Despite avoiding it for a while, fate brought me face to face with it. It only took about six weeks, which was better than not at all.

"But I remember you telling me you didn't live near campus one road?" I recalled, using it as a segue to ease into the conversation about him ghosting me.

"I did?" Kennedy questioned, side eyeing at Bukky. I should've known it might not have been wise to mention it with Bukky around, as he could easily deny it since she was there. "I did. Sorry." Kennedy confessed, with Bukky present. Now she was going to learn about my sexuality. It wasn't like she was straight anyway, so what harm could it possibly do?

"The both of you should sort this out..." Bukky began.

"I tried, but he stopped responding to me after" Kennedy pointed at me.

"Stopped responding to who?" I gestured to myself, "you stopped responding to me" then back at him.

"...ALONE!" Bukky concluded.

Kennedy and I stood, thinking she was about to exit, but instead, she looked at us as if expecting us to leave. Going outside to talk wasn't the best option, so Kennedy led me to the balcony at the back of his apartment. It was a small enclosed space with white, rusty railings surrounding it. The only item there was a blue 80-liter drum, taking up about a third of the space. From there, we had a good view of campus 1 road, and if I squinted hard enough, I could make out my school's main campus.

Kennedy used his hands to hoist himself up onto the railing, then leaned backward, almost giving me a heart attack as it seemed like he was about to tumble off the top floor of the building. I instinctively reached out my hands to grab him, nearly screaming, but I knew I couldn't possibly save him if he fell. It turned out he just wanted to check if anyone else was on the balcony beside. It was a reckless and risky move.

He tapped the railing, signaling for me to join him and sit. Taking a quick look down, I decided there was no way I was going to risk sitting on it. Instead, I dusted off the top of the water drum and perched myself on it, hoping my weight wouldn't cause it to buckle. Once settled and making sure no one else could possibly overhear us, I inquired, "Why did you stop responding to me?"

"Because I thought you were a kito" Kennedy's answer was valid. I had foreseen a lengthy explanation or a string of excuses, but that was all there was to it. Kennedy didn't feel comfortable meeting a faceless profile in person.

"You knew it was me that night, didn't you?"

"Yes..." He paused, indicating there was a but coming "-but why would I have told you where I lived, if i thought you were a kito?" Another fair point.

For six weeks, I had pictured this moment, but it didn't unfold as pictured. I had anticipated having numerous questions, although at the moment, I struggled to recall them. Thus, I decided to go with the one question that came to mind: "Ok, but how did you later come to the conclusion that I wasn't a kito?"