RAINLESS CLOUD

- Moyebi Temidayo

On the night of my final year examination as an undergraduate, the floods of thoughts and emotions breezing through my cupid heart in reminiscence of the flash point occurrence of 8 hours earlier still held me spell bound. A little push of my thought in reflection took me on a journey of four years, the journey that seemed like forever, the journey that literarily brought the whole student body of my institution to a standstill. Maybe I should say even staffs who pay little attention to the wellbeing of their students also noticed. A couple of staffs even went as far as tagging us with biblical couple appellations.

“I really think we should put a stop to all this”, she muttered amidst ear shot a couple of days after we got to know each other. That faithful night, the cool breeze caressing my skin from the ever-unpredictable weather of the University terrain suddenly turned warm, goose pimples rose from my inside, trust me this wasn’t in response to cold chills but a weird inexplainable feeling that I sincerely had no definition for. It was like my world was crashing down. Yeah, I know it sounds crazy right, this rush of emotions for someone you barely knew, precisely five days down the line. In utter amazement, “why?” was all I could mutter and with that sincere innocence of a suckling toddler she mumbled, “people are beginning to say we are “seeing each other”, and I don’t think I can really take the here-says, maybe we should just be hi! Holla! pals”, as much as it was difficult to or rather it took me a couple of years later to admit, that was the point the whole lovey-dovey flower began to bud. Seriously, it was like a dagger went through the seat of my conscience on both ends. 

Looking back today, the little flame of love that bloomed out of proportion into a wild fire that nearly became the bad master got ignited that evening. “Really, you are seriously going to let mere gossips define you or the decisions you make?”. Maybe I said that from sincere ingenuity or it was in self-defense or rightly put like you would be imagining, maybe it was a façade to conceal the brewing feelings whose notations were still far-fetched from my comprehension.

In the midst of the jubilations and celebrations of finally dropping the pen as undergraduates, there is always this ritual we must just partake of; “signing out” on that special shirt only a couple of phlegs and mels keep as museum artifacts, there you see several reserved spots especially the heart region for that special person, most, if not all Nigerian graduates can relate. She walked up to me, gave that kind of hug that’s beyond the ordinary, that singular hug that goes on for like forever, making the emotions rushing through my spine very palpable and without a blink she signs out on my shirt right on my chest with the inscription “my first true love”. That blew my mind, or rather gave me that kind of feeling of sourness a malaria convalescence can identify with. 

In more homely illustration, let me say the kind of bitter sweet taste of bitter leaf, that joy just suddenly ran sour. Not because I wasn’t happy that we finally made it, not that I wasn’t grateful to God for bringing us thus far, as I held that permanent marker to write “my first love” on her shirt, the pain of “this lady could have been mine, we could have just been the star-cross couple of the set, things could have worked out perfectly” gripped my heart. And trust me friends, when I say my first love, I meant that to the letter, because really, she was. The few months we had together as friends still leaves both parties with unforgettable memories.

To some, we were siblings courtesy of this amazing striking resemblance that even made my mother gave herself a re-affirmation that she didn’t give birth to twins, that tells how much we looked alike. To the most of our immediate community, we were young lovers who found it early and quickly in the higher institution. It just seemed perfect, even mum was beginning to join the flow, I remember she once slurred “I like that girl”, and I gave her that kind of what-are-you-implying momma expression. Being a likeable person that I am, getting along with her mum was a piece of cake, and it all looked like the perfect match. Nothing missing. 

Then I got the shock of my life, “what do you really want? the way we do, talk, gist, relate, it’s more of lovers, do you want a relationship, are we dating or what exactly is going on?” Oyinade asked. All these questions before I could say Jack Robinson and like a hungry child who cares more about dismounting the heap of food in front of him, non-challantly, though without mincing words, I said, “we are just friends getting to know each other, no relationships for now, this is because I have seen too many heart breaks I can’t afford to break mine or be responsible for another person’s.” Maybe that was my mistake, maybe that was where I got it wrong, maybe I was too scared to try, maybe the fear of the unknown was what was holding me back, maybe I just did not want to lose the friendship we share, or maybe like that flicker of light in the darkest of tunnels, I was doing the right thing. Maybe I was safeguarding my tiny heart, or maybe I was just unknowingly standing by my principle that my first date would be my last. 

Having spelt that out, our love story continued, we got so emotionally attached that we did almost everything in common and interestingly, most times there is no initial agreement to do same. It was as bad as without any form of prior communication, I could literarily enter the faculty building and without any ado at all know exactly which of the numerous lecture rooms she was in. Same goes for my Oyin. That’s how connected we were.

All this while, gifts were flying to and fro both poles, letters alike, being an occasional writer that I am, at times I pen down a few poetic lines that meant more that letters. Yet I wasn’t saying anything to make it formal, nine months down the line. More to the fact that as much as the love was brooding, an understanding of the responsibility that comes with commitment I guess was the flight hormone trigger. All this while, every tom, dick and harry were down to earth certain things we had formalized. Only a few close nits who could see beyond their noses had a knowledge of the reality on ground.

As I kept rolling on my student-sized bed, I couldn’t stop asking, “was it my fault?, was I really the bad guy that even after three years, Oyin could look me in the eye and say she was still hurting?, am I really as bad as she illustrated?, or was it that I wasn’t good enough that after trashing me in a two hour discussion, or more accurately put, tongue lashing, telling me to go my way, that I was the typical interpretation of a dog in the manger, that I was a clog in the wheel of her progress, the selfsame week, she started going out with someone else, was I really that bad, or just had to be painted that black? Trust me if that black-painting were to be in literal liquid colour, coupled with my already dark complexion, even a charred coal will see a bigger silver lining in its dark cloud. I was devastated, right in the middle of semester exams, I must confess, surviving that particular examination was one miracle only God can explain. 

“Wait!” just before you start pointing accusing fingers affirming her every word, not as if I have a tenable justification for holding off that long without professing my love formally. The pain didn’t come from the dawning that I was finally losing her, because I already did a couple of months back when I called Oyin and mustered every courage I had left in me to let her know I was going to finally let her go, since I could see she wanted a commitment I wasn’t sure I was ready to give at that time of my life. “I don’t want to hold you down, I don’t want to be the reason you are not happy or don’t get to find happiness, I don’t want to live every day of my life trying to protect you from getting hurt, only to turn out to be the cause of your deepest hurt” On and on and on I went reeling out how much I wanted her to be happy and as much as I would want her to be mine, I wouldn’t want to hold her down with my uncertainty.” 

That may sound foolish or stupid but that was just about the best I could do at that point, because in the midst of all the love ecstasy, I just knew something was clicking. You remember I said she was my first love right, that probably will give you an idea of the gravity of the heartache. Just in case you think all guys are the stone cold emotional cold stone ice-cream personalities, I suppose you just met an emotional one in writing though. This occurrence happening 2 months before her outburst was the source of the extra load that aided the gravity of those heart piercing words.
All I could mumble was “I am sorry, and I take responsibility for all the pitfalls.” 

Then the gap became so obvious itching ears propelled questions neither of us could provide answers to. I guess I just needed to be taken out of the chess board for the queen to have a field day. You could have just said you wanted to date someone else since I wasn’t forthcoming, why make me look like the worst guy on earth who only survives on life support having lost his heart to sheer cruelty. These and many more are the unanswered ponderings of my mind since that day.

While I continue to toss on my bed let me clearly point out here that, guy, if you love a lady, genuinely, never let the fear of losing the friend you have in her stop you from professing your love to her, by the way, if you’re scared of asking your friend out, it is your enemy or say a stranger you’ll need less confidence to woo? Are you really going to sit down mute while someone else takes what is meant to be yours right from under your nose?
Experiences are great teachers no doubt about that, but who said you have to learn from yours. Mine should be good example enough for you if you can relate.