Same Difference [A Queer Nigerian Experience]

17 | THEIR BLOOD SHALL BE UPON THEM

Next to Maxwell, I couldn't believe what I was seeing and was trying to understand it all. I thought Mr Utomi's lover had already graduated; I had moved on from it, never expecting to know their identity. Wilfred was the last person I would have thought of; he never seemed gay. I took Maxwell's phone, intending to confront him later about accessing my profile without permission. Right then, I needed answers, but Ossai needed them even more. He was so confused, and neither of us was explaining anything.

I sat down again while Maxwell stood, still processing everything. I scrolled up in the chat between Wilfred and me; it was longer than expected, far back to the time of my arrest. The conversation seemed so much like one I would have had; the texting style was very similar to mine. The person pretending to be me had done their homework. Wilfred had no idea he wasn't texting me, but he believed he was in control, thinking I didn't know it was him. He kept himself mysterious throughout the conversation.

"I know about you and Maxwell" read a cryptic text from Wilfred. I needed to grasp how it was even possible. I quickly skimmed through messages, realizing there wasn't enough time to read them all. "I saw the message Maxwell left for you" Wilfred disclosed. He couldn't have accessed any of my messages, so I didn't understand what he meant. "Letter*" he corrected himself. Then it clicked—I recalled the note Maxwell had left for me at my place when I lost my phone.

Bit by bit, it became clearer, but I wondered why he chose to disclose any of this. As I neared the end of the messages, he revealed that he was Wilfred and explained his motives. It dawned on me why I assumed Wilfred had graduated; because he was supposed to. His joke about carrying over courses in the second year started to take meaning because he had indeed carried over a course that led to an extension in his fourth year. All this time, I thought he was just a regular final year student. This explained why he had no qualms about revealing everything, as he had resolved the issue with his carried over course and was now finally leaving our university.

"Wilfred knows that we know about Mr Utomi." I mentioned while Maxwell patiently waited for me to finish scrolling.

"How?" Maxwell wondered.

"He saw that letter that you left for me at my house, when you gave me your other phone." My response wasn't still enough to make sense of it. "Have you forgotten? You wrote the password of your phone in the letter, so he was able to open it himself and go through it."

Maxwell was still seeking further clarification.

"That day, Ossai told me he saw someone in the house, and I assumed it was just you, but it was actually Wilfred - he has a spare key to my apartment, that was how he was able to get in since no one was around" I spoke about Ossai in third person, as though he wasn't sitting right next to me. A twinge of guilt crept in as I realized I had snapped at Ossai for something he had actually been right about.

Maxwell absorbed the information and left Ossai's place without uttering a word. I reasoned what he might be planning for a moment, before switching to Kennedy's messages, remembering Kennedy's comment about me ghosting him. Checking his chats confirmed that it was indeed my account that had stopped responding. The person behind my account had initially replied to Kennedy's "hey" but then stopped responding later on. This meant that neither of us had been dishonest during the truth or dare game.

The person behind my account must have been texting other people, I was starting to get overwhelmed seeing how these people had been deceived with my own name. Although uncovering the truth was intriguing, I regretted knowing it; because I needed to take action.

Maxwell came back with Sewa into Ossai's apartment, and she was the last person I wanted to encounter during such a challenging time. Maxwell pleaded with Ossai to step out and give us some privacy, making the situation awkward knowing they were just outside the door listening in on us. Sewa sat beside me on the bed and uttered a quick "I'm sorry," which sounded more like a way to get over the apology, rather than a genuine expression of remorse.