Last updated on October 7th, 2025 at 03:55 pm
It’s not that I don’t want to commit. There’s just usually a block. I tried therapy for a while and I didn’t like it. I know what the problem is, I’m simply not certain that I can handle unravelling it. And at this age, I’m also not certain that the problem cares whether or not I’m ready.
Sure, I’ve come close to wanting to face it. One time in school, there was this hot girl, an angel who got me wrapped around her finger. She had me completely bewitched, and I was all too excited to go all in with her. I was in my penultimate year then, as she was, though mine was a five-year course.
Of course, I knew she was hung up on that guy that I had seen around her a few times but when it came to Angela, my brain was fried, and every part of me steered towards her. Even then, I asked myself what I could offer her and came up short, but when it comes to matters of the heart, logic sometimes takes an exit.
Heck, when she called to end things with me—things we hadn’t even officially started—I almost had a heart attack. That’s how much hold Angela had on me. It seemed as if I was in physical pain. Of course, I handled it well. I told her the truth as I had from the onset but I didn’t let her know how much it pained me. She even seemed hurt, like she didn’t want to let go but I had to respect her decision.
We saw each other a couple of times after the “break-up”, with her looking fine as a dime. We also chatted a few times during and after our one-year post-university mandatory service. I wanted to stay away but I couldn’t, continuing to torture myself. Angela was my sweet torture. Even as I struggled to settle in the UK, she was always on my mind.
She probably got upset at some point because I was disturbing her and stopped answering my chats. Who could blame her? I wonder where she was now. Probably married to that guy or still dating. Even as I subjected myself to this painful reflection, my heart tugged. Honestly, no one else ever came close to her. I’m almost thankful that nothing happened between us because she definitely deserved better than me.
I drive to my usual park and find a spot to park my car, turn off the ignition, and step out. Hands in pockets, head buried, I stroll into the park. An unwanted memory surfaces as I walk into the quiet of the park.
“Since you clocked 14, you’ve started looking so manly.” She says as I walk into the sitting room after a shower. I just returned from school and my parents are not around as usual. Frankly, I’ve not been as comfortable with her as I used to. She recently started holding me and touching my shoulders, even lingering.
“Aunty, don’t you have your afternoon classes?”
“Is that what I’m telling you?” She asks, rolling her eyes in some type of way. She started living with us last year and Mummy says she’s her relative. I used to like her, especially since I have seen her sometimes at Grandma’s, but with this new character, I’m not so sure I like her again. I get up and rush to the kitchen. It’s better to eat my lunch upstairs in my room.
“Where are you going?” She holds me. I flex my arm and detach from her hold and she smiles.
“You’re so big now.” It’s true that I’m now big. I’m not surprised though, because mummy and daddy are tall. Even at that, I’m now as tall as my mum, and taller than most of my classmates. I had to change my school uniform before we resumed this term. I ignore my aunt and go into the kitchen. She doesn’t try to hold me again. Maybe I scared her, not that I would ever hit her or anyone for that matter. She’s really small, her head’s only up to my chest even though she’s 22.
I once asked Mum why she’s not in the university and my mum said she’s been struggling to get admission into the university. Her mother died when she gave birth to her and at that time, all her siblings were grown; some were married and others were in the university. No one really had the time for her. My grandma started taking care of her when she was five, by then she wasn’t even going to school, so she started late. Even now, none of her siblings give her attention. Mummy says they’re probably reminded of their mother’s death every time they see her.
I take a deep breath and watch the birds flying in the park. These memories, once deeply buried, have been finding their way out unprovoked.
—
I don’t get home until 9 pm. I stayed long at the park then went to the cinema, saw a movie, then to the eatery to grab dinner. No one can understand me, at least none of my friends. I also don’t find any fun in drinking or smoking to numb my pain. Usually, I get lost in work, moving from one project to another, but after employing two people recently, work has really gotten lighter. At this rate, even during the launch, I don’t see myself being too busy.
After eating, I take a shower and go through my emails. Soon, another memory pops up.
“Guy, my supposed aunt that stayed with us when my parents were very busy did that shit to me,” I say to my friend, who is also my roommate. We are all hanging out in the sitting room of the two-bedroom apartment that we rented. Four of us share the apartment and sometimes we’ll hang out when we’re all around.
“So, she taught you things?” He asks, seeming excited. I just opened up for the first time that my supposed aunt abused me and this isn’t the reaction I expected. Soo,n the other guys are hollering, “You’re lucky.” “Na man you be!” and smacking my chest.
“Hope you showed her you’re capable?” My other flatmate asks, flashing his teeth.
“I was fourteen,” I say, hoping this clears it for them.
“And so?”
“I was fifteen. How’s it different? One guy I know was even twelve.” My second flatmate says. He started this conversation actually. If I knew that his sharing his experience was so he could brag, I’d have kept quiet. I shake my head and pick up the gamepad.
“Let’s play game abeg.”
“You too dey form deep.” My roommate says, playfully hitting me. “Talk say you no like am.” He pushes, and a heavy rage overwhelms me. I manage to subdue it and give a nervous chuckle. Thankfully, no one says anything again. After some minutes on the game, I stand and go into the room, grab a pillow, and scream into it.
