African beauty

Chapter 3: What to do

My first day was on a Friday, carefully handpicked by my mother who thought it would be better for me to have one day in school and then remove the stress during the weekend. It was a cold Saturday morning, about 10 degrees Celsius, and I was going through Twitter, keeping up with my Nigerian friends, when I got a weird notification from a weird number. I check the profile picture on WhatsApp, and it was that marvelous, milk chocolate Male again, but this time, I could see his whole body, he was very toned, and not the type of toned that has you thinking he could break a truck or something, but he was just lean, and right. To be frank, it was the first time I actually felt that funny feeling, I think they call it lust? I'm not sure what I was feeling, but I was a virgin, and boys back in Nigeria were very immature, and the ones that were, well, were too invested in their studies. And I went to a boarding school anyway, if I got close enough to any of them to see their bodies I would probably be expelled. But forget about that, let's focus on the god that just texted me. He just said "hey", which almost made me flutter. He asked me basic questions, like where I came from and what it was like in Nigeria. He sounded like a little boy, which was cute but confusing. He then proceeded to tell me how he'd never had a black female friend before. That turned me all the way off, but he was still sexy. We texted for so long that it drowned out the sounds of my mothers groaning, because she was cooking alone. I went downstairs to find her finished, and angry. "Omo mi, how many times will I tell you not to look at your phone in the early morning ehn? It is not good for your eyes for Gods sake!" She said, giving me the most gruesome look, as if she had found my nudes online. "Sorry maami, it wont happen again", I exclaimed, lying right through my teeth, because if he texted me at 2 in the morning I would wake right back up.

It was around 2pm, and I was washing my fathers car in the garage, which I dreaded doing, but I hated the aftermath of declining , where he would give me a lecture on how he would've loved a male child who would be obedient and basically not have an opinion, because girls were too "strongly opinionated", and I could never argue with him, unless I wanted to get into a fist fight that I would ultimately lose. Finally, immediately I was done washing the car, Alex called me. "Come outside, I wanna take you around London, if you don't mind"and I didn't. I didn't mind at all. But my parents did. He was an 18 year old 6 feet tall white Male. He ticked all the boxes on my parents bad book. I couldn't believe myself- but I lied to my parents. I went inside and told my mother I was going with a black Nigerian classmate to do homework and study. She didn't even pester me with questions, which was unusual. But I left. Alex came in full style, which was a bit embarrassing, because I didn't even dress up properly. He was wearing a black leather jacket with a white Gucci top, and a pair of the sexiest skinny jeans I had ever seen, iced with a Rolex and Gucci shoes. His perfume smelt expensive, and it definitely felt like he planned this all out from the minute he saw me, and didn't just drop by my house. Come to think of it, how did he even find my address? Either way, that's besides the point. He opened the door for me into his Mercedes Benz, and honestly I was feeling very "wifey" like, even though I just met him yesterday. To be honest, I don't think he had any friends, and I was still wondering why. Anyway, I got in the car and then he got in and started the ignition. I wanted him to speed it up before my mother came out and saw him, and gave me the biggest beating of my life, right in front of him.

We were just driving, and driving, and driving. While we were driving he just kept on pointing out historical landmarks in London, as if I hadn't already known all of this before I came here. Suddenly, we just pulled up and stopped by what looked like Lagos. It was a field with nothing surrounding it. My heart stopped. I felt stupid for a split second, because I felt like I trusted someone who was going to rape me pretty soon. But he didn't, he just looked at me and laughed. "Why do you look so scared Erica?" Was he being serious? We were in the middle of literally nowhere, and I was with a boy I barely knew. "Because you brought me out to show me London, and we are in the middle of fucking now where, Alex." I couldn't believe the fact that I swore, it almost felt unnatural, but I was so angry that it was only fitting. "Calm down, just follow me ms Olu....ol....olufe....Erica." I was trying so hard to hold my laugh but I failed woefully. His British accent with my name was like putting a square puzzle piece in a circle hole. Impossible. I just bursted out laughing and almost peed myself.

He guided me to the biggest house I had ever seen in my entire life, and there were very big houses back in Lagos where I came from; I lived in one. It looked like it could accommodate at least 500 people easily, with ample space to move around and make merry. But he only lived with his elder brother, who just lived in the house with no future or ambition, his mother and his father. Both his parents were divorced, but the house was so big that they barely had to see each other. When we came in, we walked in on both his parents having sex, which literally made me sick, because it was my first time really seeing two people go at it like that- I mean, the chair they were sitting on was on the verge of breaking. "MUM! DAD! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY THIS- NO SHAGGING IN THE LIVING ROOM! AND I THOUGHT YOU TWO WERE DIVORCED! PUT SOME CLOTHES ON! BOTH OF YOU!" He said, very aggressively, covering my eyes. "It gets boring here son, and your dad knows how to hit the right spot" his mother said, very confidently, as if Alex and I couldn't have lived a happy life without knowing how good their sex life is. Alex was completely red, and I had no idea if that was out of anger or just plain embarrassment- but I proceeded to clear the thick tension in the air. "I'm Erica, nice to meet the both of you."I said, waiting anxiously for a reply. I got nothing. The silence lasted only 10 seconds( I counted), but it felt like a millennium. "Nice to see that you're actually having friends, Alex" his dad said, teasing him. Alex was just not having it. He was so intensely angry that he just dragged me upstairs, disregarding his fathers comment. I felt so bad for him, that immediately we got to his room, I just hugged him tightly, and reassured him that I didn't care one bit about what just happened. I suddenly felt his tensed up body release, hugging me back with much relief. "They always do this, this is why I have no friends, they always do this...." his voice sounded broken, like he was about to cry. I quickly kept him quiet and told him I didn't care about what happened once again.

His room was Huge. It had its own living room, where he adorned it with a flat screen TV, chairs, antiques and of course, a play station 4 with real gold customized controllers. In the bedroom section, he had a king sized bed, with royal blue bedsheets. His room wall was white, but had magnificent drawings. "You drew all this?" I asked, knowing it was him, but I just wanted to ease him out of his lingering anger that I could still see in him. "Yeah, I did. No need to tell me, I'm not that good an artist." At this point he was just being humble. All the art on his wall looked like a gallery of a big artist, and each one had a poem next to it. All of a sudden I glanced at what looked like me with a crown, and it looked like the paint was still drying. The poem next to it wrote:
"The beauty in the beast
I search north south
West and east
Never knew that art
Had two legs and hands
And an aura of difference."
"Is this....me?" I asked him. "Um...no! That's nothing! It's still in progress, and I started that a week ago, couldn't be you" he said. I knew it was me. I was rather flattered, but just a little bit scared; I mean, he just met me. But his artwork is his business, I can't question it. I just ignored it and looked at all the other artworks. They were all beautiful, and he even drew one of himself, with his beautiful blue eyes and brown slicked back hair. He was just gorgeous. Everything about his appearance was perfect, even his fingernails. They were perfectly groomed, with not a bit of dirt in sight. His eyes were so distracting, that it masked the fact that he was playing guitar right in front of me. But when I switched back to reality, and I heard him play, he played like an angel. Was there anything to make me irritated about him? At all? Well, not yet.

I was so close to him that I could smell his amazing Versace perfume and could see his ocean blue eyes perfectly, and his pink, small, lips. "Want me to take you home?" He asked, with the best smirk ever. "Yes, that would be nice". We went in his car and were on our way back to east London. At this point it was about 10pm, and I knew my mother would be standing outside, waiting for me, so I requested that Alex drop me about a block away, so I would walk there without my mother seeing him. We stopped at our 'destination' and I got out of the car, staring at Alex. "I really enjoyed today, thank you" I said, with a ridiculous smile on my face. "I'm glad you did, see you on Monday then?" He said. "Yeah...Monday". I was about to leave and he pulled me back and gave me the biggest hug ever, like a hug of relief, and I hugged him back even tighter. He had the purest soul ever, but a broken home and a misunderstood mind. I knew that I could make him less broken again, and I didn't know how, but I had to try. I walked back to my house and as I predicted, my mother was standing there, as furious as ever. She held my hand so tight, I felt my circulation cut off. "Where have you been? Do you see them time? Where did you go?" She asked. "Mummy, the homework was very long, and we went to get food after. Please forgive me." My mother just let go of my hand and walked inside, not saying a word. I retired to my room and just knocked out. Lying was exhausting. How do people do this all the time? Anyway, it was worth it, and I would do it again.