Short Story: INSIDE LIFE (NINU AYE)
Adejumo David
You wake up for the umpteenth time, at the last row of the ever accommodating HSLT C with empty wraps of Minimie Chin Chin, littered plastic bottles of Limca and Smoov, cans of sparingly filled Malt drinks dirtily scattered around your reading table.
You wonder if it would have been better you stayed at the comfort of your moderately ventilated room in Mozambique and dozing off when the time is just right than attempting a TDB (Till Day Break), risking the embarrassment your heavy snoring causes each time you sleep off.
Your roommate and friend, Antonia, a second year (DE) student in the faculty of arts - you never remember her department- will always warn you against sleeping in public places because of your agelong issue with snoring. You've always thought she was only being mean and trying to compensate herself for the enormous gap between you two in beauty. But her words you remember today because it's a special day. One day you decide to go against all odds and tell Micheal exactly how you feel.
Really, you are beautiful. You are exactly what a typical African man will describe as a mulatto. You have deep blue eyes and the perfect eyelashes. Eyes that leave people, guys mostly, staring dumbly till you are out of eye range; but you're used to it now. Your skin tone is amazingly even, as if specifically designed to erase all possible flaws. Your body figure, that completely draws an eight, is something that has never seized to compensate for what you seem to lack in sociability and of course, in snoring.
Then his thoughts cross your mind again. It's not his fine stature that amuses each time you glance at them. He doesn't have that killer body most of your admirers can boast of. But the magic is in his lips. He has these soft, inviting, pink lips that seem to make a subtle call to every fiber of emotion inside of you.
And so when you decide you'll face him today, the first you will ever attempt to do, you feel feverish at the thought of a sad eventuality. You think his being nice towards you is his normal self - no strings attached.
You speed out of HSLT, down to the defunct Students Union Building (SUB) and hurriedly board the next available bike to Moz. You don't want to miss the opportunity of sitting next to him in class and more than ever, you don't want to lose this new vibe of speaking out to the one guy you truly might be feeling a thing for.
You rush into the bathroom with your towel barely covering your cleave; you trip and fall. You rise again, like the cat with nine lives. You wonder how love could have turned you into this freak within weeks, and how drunk in love Michael has made you over the weeks as you nurse a pain in your right chin in your white turned yellow bathtub.
You rub off the excess sparkle of make up on your face and you race to the lecture room. You see Micheal from afar and you lower your pace. From the corner of your eye, you see him take the rare sit and you silently hope no one takes the sit next to his.
Lucky you! You get to sit side by side with your crush, but gentle breeze from the pacific emanate and choose to freeze you that instant. His gentle perfume fills the air around the wooden table in front of you two and you choke, not being able to produce a sound - only suppressed coughs and sneezes.
He says Hi with a kind of smile that makes you feel the anterior part of the flesh over your sternum harden - like the spherical, tiny, black faeces of a local goat. You reply with a forceful nod, not being able to look him straight in the eye.
The class speeds on as if you're seeing one of Flash's heroics in "The Flash " not caring at all about the Proffesour's babblings.
**
You're in your hostel now and you pick up your phone, clicking on the WhatsApp icon. You look up into the ceiling as if it would give you the inspiration to come up with something nice and convincing, but you don't want to appear desperate too.
With your typing hands, you spill your heart out on your screen. You didn't think you could write as much stuff as you did. But you did and you smile at yourself as you send the message full of loving smileys and kisses blown into thin air.
You wait till you see the message confirm sent and you take a soft nap, dreaming about his sweet reply.
You wake again and immediately check your inbox. The blue tint shows he has seen the message and you wonder why he isn't replying.
You read through your text again, to be sure you made no grammatical or punctuation blunders and you drop the phone and go to bed.
Been two days. No reply. You're really getting pissed now. You've never been this ill treated by a boy. And with the little pride in you that could be gathered, you decide to confront him.
** (In Class)
You're done with lectures and you see him walk past with his friends. You motion him to stop, that you want to have a word with him. He obliged. He look you in the eyes and the usual shivering surfaces again. This time however, you are ready to fight it.
You gently tell him about the message sent the other day. That you saw he read the message and didn't deem it fit to give a reply. You're getting vexed as you relate this to him, emboldening you to look Micheal in the eyes. You notice, as you look intensely, the veins towards his hairline and the soft glitter that appears to form a channel of dark fleshy skin to his easy to press, pink colored lips.
And then he says plainly, a bit surprised:
"Sorry, I thought it was a WhatsApp BC!!"
And then you faint.
Now you're in OAUTHC
You wake up for the umpteenth time, at the last row of the ever accommodating HSLT C with empty wraps of Minimie Chin Chin, littered plastic bottles of Limca and Smoov, cans of sparingly filled Malt drinks dirtily scattered around your reading table.
You wonder if it would have been better you stayed at the comfort of your moderately ventilated room in Mozambique and dozing off when the time is just right than attempting a TDB (Till Day Break), risking the embarrassment your heavy snoring causes each time you sleep off.
Your roommate and friend, Antonia, a second year (DE) student in the faculty of arts - you never remember her department- will always warn you against sleeping in public places because of your agelong issue with snoring. You've always thought she was only being mean and trying to compensate herself for the enormous gap between you two in beauty. But her words you remember today because it's a special day. One day you decide to go against all odds and tell Micheal exactly how you feel.
Really, you are beautiful. You are exactly what a typical African man will describe as a mulatto. You have deep blue eyes and the perfect eyelashes. Eyes that leave people, guys mostly, staring dumbly till you are out of eye range; but you're used to it now. Your skin tone is amazingly even, as if specifically designed to erase all possible flaws. Your body figure, that completely draws an eight, is something that has never seized to compensate for what you seem to lack in sociability and of course, in snoring.
Then his thoughts cross your mind again. It's not his fine stature that amuses each time you glance at them. He doesn't have that killer body most of your admirers can boast of. But the magic is in his lips. He has these soft, inviting, pink lips that seem to make a subtle call to every fiber of emotion inside of you.
And so when you decide you'll face him today, the first you will ever attempt to do, you feel feverish at the thought of a sad eventuality. You think his being nice towards you is his normal self - no strings attached.
You speed out of HSLT, down to the defunct Students Union Building (SUB) and hurriedly board the next available bike to Moz. You don't want to miss the opportunity of sitting next to him in class and more than ever, you don't want to lose this new vibe of speaking out to the one guy you truly might be feeling a thing for.
You rush into the bathroom with your towel barely covering your cleave; you trip and fall. You rise again, like the cat with nine lives. You wonder how love could have turned you into this freak within weeks, and how drunk in love Michael has made you over the weeks as you nurse a pain in your right chin in your white turned yellow bathtub.
You rub off the excess sparkle of make up on your face and you race to the lecture room. You see Micheal from afar and you lower your pace. From the corner of your eye, you see him take the rare sit and you silently hope no one takes the sit next to his.
Lucky you! You get to sit side by side with your crush, but gentle breeze from the pacific emanate and choose to freeze you that instant. His gentle perfume fills the air around the wooden table in front of you two and you choke, not being able to produce a sound - only suppressed coughs and sneezes.
He says Hi with a kind of smile that makes you feel the anterior part of the flesh over your sternum harden - like the spherical, tiny, black faeces of a local goat. You reply with a forceful nod, not being able to look him straight in the eye.
The class speeds on as if you're seeing one of Flash's heroics in "The Flash " not caring at all about the Proffesour's babblings.
**
You're in your hostel now and you pick up your phone, clicking on the WhatsApp icon. You look up into the ceiling as if it would give you the inspiration to come up with something nice and convincing, but you don't want to appear desperate too.
With your typing hands, you spill your heart out on your screen. You didn't think you could write as much stuff as you did. But you did and you smile at yourself as you send the message full of loving smileys and kisses blown into thin air.
You wait till you see the message confirm sent and you take a soft nap, dreaming about his sweet reply.
You wake again and immediately check your inbox. The blue tint shows he has seen the message and you wonder why he isn't replying.
You read through your text again, to be sure you made no grammatical or punctuation blunders and you drop the phone and go to bed.
Been two days. No reply. You're really getting pissed now. You've never been this ill treated by a boy. And with the little pride in you that could be gathered, you decide to confront him.
** (In Class)
You're done with lectures and you see him walk past with his friends. You motion him to stop, that you want to have a word with him. He obliged. He look you in the eyes and the usual shivering surfaces again. This time however, you are ready to fight it.
You gently tell him about the message sent the other day. That you saw he read the message and didn't deem it fit to give a reply. You're getting vexed as you relate this to him, emboldening you to look Micheal in the eyes. You notice, as you look intensely, the veins towards his hairline and the soft glitter that appears to form a channel of dark fleshy skin to his easy to press, pink colored lips.
And then he says plainly, a bit surprised:
"Sorry, I thought it was a WhatsApp BC!!"
And then you faint.
Now you're in OAUTHC
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