THE SOUP TEST

CAIN AND ABEL

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CHAPTER 2:

They say, _"When the palm fruit is ripe, it does not need to announce itself."_ That year, 2021, two palm fruits ripened in front of me at the same time.

I did not go looking for them. They came. Like harmattan comes — one in the morning, one in the evening — both refusing to leave.

The first one I met was Jamie.

I remember him clearly because he was the kind of boy that made the whispers in my head go quiet for a minute. He was slim. Not slim-fit fine, just slim. No body at all. No chest that fills a shirt, no arms that look like they can carry anything, no back that makes you feel safe if you stand behind it. His shirts hung on him. His bones showed through his skin. If you hugged him, you would feel bone, not body.

But what he had was light skin. Light skin and a fine small face. That was his whole kingdom. That was his whole CV. Light-skinned, small eyes that knew how to look deep when they were empty, and lips that were always doing a smile that was not quite a smile.

And back then, with my L.O.W — Living On Whispers — that was enough for me. Because the whispers told me every day that light is beautiful and dark is not. So when a light-skinned boy looked at me, I thought maybe I was beautiful too. Maybe if he holds me, his light will rub on me.

That is the truth I am still ashamed to say even now.

*His acronym in my life was J.A.M.I.E — Just A Mirage, Intoxicatingly Empty.*

He knew how to talk. He would say, "Estella, you different." But when he said different, his eyes were not on my eyes. His eyes were always going down, to my lips, to my waist, to my hips. He looked at me like a fruit that was already his to bite. Not like a person.

And there is something about slim boys who know they have no body but have light skin — they compensate with touch. Because they cannot show you strength, they show you hunger. Jamie was like that. His thin fingers would find my waist quickly, squeeze, slide, as if to prove he had power somewhere. It was not protective touch. It was claiming touch. It was hungry touch. He would touch places I never invited him to touch, then laugh and say "sorry, you are just too sweet." I would laugh too back then, because I didn't know that a boy who respects you waits.

He tried to give me small money. He thought every girl had a price, and his light skin was the discount. I refused. I am not like that. I can hustle myself. I have self-adjustment. I don't need a boy's coins to feel fine. But he never understood that.

As my grandmother says, _"A beautiful face with an empty chest is like a decorated calabash with no water inside."_ That was Jamie. Decorated outside, empty inside.

Then came Reed.

Ah, Reed.

I am saying his name now and I can still feel how my heart beat differently. Not the fast shallow beat that Jamie gave me — the beat that said "a light boy likes me." But a deep, heavy beat that said "I am safe."

Reed had a body. A real body. A massive body to even admire. Not that fake gym body that is swollen like bread. A natural massive body — broad shoulders that made a T-shirt sit properly, arms that had real strength, a chest that was firm, a back that was wide enough that if I stood behind him, I would be hidden from the whole world. When he walked, you felt the ground respect him. When he stood near me, I felt... safe. That kind of safe that slim boys can never give, no matter how light they are.

He was dark in complexion. Deep, honest dark. The dark of fertile soil after first rain. The dark our grandmothers prayed for before bleaching creams taught us to hate ourselves. And he was shorter than me by just an inch. Only an inch. An inch that means nothing when a man has a body like a wall. But back then, with my whispers, that inch became a mountain. The world told me a man must be taller than a woman, so I used that one inch to ignore a whole mountain of safety that was right in front of me. What foolishness.

*His true acronym was R.E.E.D — Rare, Earnest, Enduring Devotion with a Body to Match.*

If Jamie looked at me like meat to be tasted, Reed looked at me like a prayer to be protected.

When Jamie praised me, he said "you sexy." When Reed praised me, he said "Estella, your waist is strong, your laugh is real, your hands are hardworking hands." He noticed things slim boys never notice, because massive boys know what strength looks like — they respect it in women too.

He did not grab. He asked. To hold my hand, he would open his palm — big, warm, rough — and wait. That palm could have easily taken. But he waited. That waiting, to a girl who was used to being grabbed by thin fingers, was vigorously exceptional. It was gorgeous. It made me feel respected.

He cooked. With those massive arms, you would think he would be too proud to enter a kitchen, but he did. He cut onions, he stirred soup, his forearms flexing, his brow sweating, and he brought me food in a flask still warm. Food that smelled like home. And I, still living on whispers, gave it to my cousins to eat, because Jamie had told me "real men don't cook, they provide money." And I believed the slim boy over the massive man.

He introduced me to his parents even though I was not his girlfriend. His mother saw me and smiled with knowing eyes, his father nodded like a man who had already measured Reed's heart and body and knew he would be a good husband. Jamie never introduced me to anyone. He hid me from his family but showed me to his friends with lustful eyes.

That year, my S.O.U.R — Seeking Outside, Undervaluing Real — started fully. I was seeking outside validation, outside light skin, outside slim fine faces, and I was undervaluing what was real — the massive, admirable, safe body and the earnest heart that was right in front of me.

*S.I.N = Shine Intoxicates Negatively (That was Jamie, the light shine that intoxicated me)*

*S.A.N.E = Strength And Nurture Earnestly (That was Reed, the massive strength that nurtured me)*

Deep inside, even then in 2021, I knew. I knew Jamie was a serial cheat looking only for a chance to have s*x with me and move on to his next prey. I knew Reed was the one who would stay, who would build, who would cover me with that massive body like a roof covers a house.

But my L.O.W was louder than my knowing.

_She didn't know it yet, but the finger that had been clean all her life was about to be dipped. She was about to taste two soups — one watery and light, one thick and massive — and in trying to taste both, she would taste none and spoil both. That is where Chapter 3, The Test, was about to begin._

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Is this the truth now? The real bodies, your real voice, no bad girl talk.