Maple and Light.

Chapter Four.

The drive home was smooth. It was also silent, but not in a bad way. You know when you’re with someone you’ve spent so much time and have become so comfortable with, you can stay quiet together with each other for a long ass time and it wouldn’t be awkward? That’s exactly how it felt like in the car now with my mom and John.

After I had gotten into the car, after telling Onyinye that I am a gay woman, I got out my phone from my bag to check my social media notifications. Duh? I have a life, even with OCD and Bipolar disorder. I spoke to our driver; “hello John! How are you?” He replied, “I’m fine ma’am. Thanks.” I smiled at that. I’m glad he was fine. At least that was what he told me. It seemed like I was just radiating happiness, sweetness, maple, and light. Probably was because of the lovely time I had at my grandparents’. Or was because of someone new.

I drank my water from the bottle, and offered my mom some water too. She shook her head as a ‘no’ and gave me a small smile. I wanted to retreat and rest my head on the window, but I looked at her again; she looked like she could really use some water. “Come on Mom. You’ve not had water in a long ass while and I know cause you did not drink water at Mama and Papa’s once. Just...” I offered her again, “Please have some water. For your body’s sake.”

She looked reluctant, but my eyes were insistent, and she finally took my bottle. Drinking some, she gave it back to me. “Thank you Jade. I really needed that.” I frowned in confusion. Why did she reject it in the first place then? “Then why did you reject it at first if you needed it that badly? I don’t understand.”

She looked like she had tons to say, so much stuffs running through her head at once that she could not put into words, so all I got was, “I just felt like you might need it more. I didn’t want to insist on taking your water and sound or look selfish.” “Oh mother.” I scooted close to her and gave her a hug. “I’ve told you countless times; put yourself and your health first. Be selfish in that department because no one is gonna be selfish for you damn it.”

She simply smiled and said, “you’re selfish for me in that department sweetheart.” I smiled weakly and chuckled, then replied, “yes. But I can’t always be. I’m not always there. But you will always be there for you because you own your body. So please...Stop guilting yourself for wanting to be treated like a person and not sub-human; you deserve the world.”

“It’s a step-by-step process honey. But...thank you,” she replied me. I gave a slow nod and a reassuring, supportive smile to her. Well at least that was what I intended to give, I don’t know if it looked that reassuring or simply funny. I could be funny without even knowing it a lot of times.

“You know, I’m grateful for having you Jade. I tell God everyday. I tell him thank you for giving you to me.”

I wanted to point out that ‘god’ didn’t give me to her or anything like that, that I came from the s****l union between her and my father, but I decided against it; she had already had enough from religious gibberish for the day already. Instead, I took her hand and kissed it. It was a small but sweet gesture the women of my family did in times like this to be supportive and show love. My sister used to do it a lot to me those times my episodes were raw and very bad. Looking back now, I can see I’m getting better.

I remembered what she said she was going to talk to me about, that she was going to tell me what happened at that god-forsaken conference. “So Mom, tell me, what happened at that place today?”

She blinked. “What place?” She asked, intentionally trying to play dumb. “You know what I mean,” I replied with a steady tone. I noticed the reluctance in her body language and generously added; “you promised you’d tell me when we get home Mom, and,” I looked out the window, the gates of our unnecessarily large and grand mansion opened, meaning we were home, finally (I called it unnecessary because apart from the employees, the only people living in this house is my mom and me, and my sister too whenever she comes to visit from college, which is not a lot. In total we aren’t even up to ten that live in this large dwelling.), “by the looks of it, we are already home. So I’d like to know what it is. Now.”

“Let’s get inside. I need to undress and maybe take a shower.” She saw the disappointment in my face and added, “at least, if I’m gonna tell the story, I’m gonna have to tell it right, right?” This made me smile. “Right.” She came out of the car, when it was finally parked, and said to me in an attempt to further lift the air, “damn girl, you’re fierce for a sixteen year old.” I laughed and said, “I got it from your mom, yunno.”

My mom put her palm on her chest in a dramatic gesture and dramatically gasped to accompany it. “I thought you’d say you got it from me! You’ve never told me you got anything from me! I am heartbroken!” this made both of us laugh and I heard John gently chuckle in the driver’s seat in the car.

We got our things from the car and walked towards the door of the house. I called behind me, “thank you John!” and walked beside my mother. We rang the doorbell and Juanita got the door, thankfully, because I missed her and her angel-like face and features always made you want to smile and exclaim, ‘women are a work of art!’ The two assistant housekeepers that followed behind Juanita got my mom’s and my bags and other items from our arms, and I asked Juanita if her special cookies still remained, after we gave each other our usual kisses on the cheeks.

“Yes dear, I told you in the morning that I would leave some for you, and I did. I also kept some lemonade in the fridge.” I clapped my hands together like a little child and said, “Juanita, this is why I love you. You get me!” This gained a chuckle from my mom and Juanita. “Okay Mom, I’m gonna head to the kitchen to have some deliciously amazing cookies and cold lemonade while I wait for you to freshen up. I’d be in the kitchen when you’re ready. Take your time cause, well you know, I have company!”

I sounded very excited because I was. Juanita was an amazing cook, and I loved food, so hell yes we were compatible, she could be my third sister and soul mate for real. Only that, she’d be a sister that’s older than even my mom...

I laughed out loud at this thought and headed to the kitchen. Got the cookie jar out, the lemonade from the fridge, a cup, a plate, and I dug in. Food was pure bliss.

A couple of minutes must have passed, maybe even an hour, of me eating and checking my i********:, before my mom finally came downstairs in her pyjamas and bonnet and held her cup of tea, no doubt made by my awesome Juanita. Damn, my mom was an early night-person, she was already in her pyjamas at 6:58pm.

She took a seat beside me and put some cookies on her plate from the cookie jar. I chuckled inwardly. Juanita sure made an understatement when she said she left ‘some’ cookies for me, because I’ve been eating these for almost an hour and they aren’t even halfway gone.

“So at the conference,” my mom started, and I wasn’t even consciously aware when I breathed a sigh of relief and whispered, “finally,” till I had said it. My mom laughed at that and continued. “At the conference, most of what they were saying was, well, BS. You know, bullshit?” I nodded to let her know that I could relate. “They said things like, a depressed person is to be blamed for being depressed, because they're allowing the devil take control of their lives and happiness, not letting Jesus control their lives and not giving him the full control of their hearts, blah blah blah.” I gasped and said lowly, “oh no.”

“Oh yes,” my mom replied, “that's not even close to the best of it. They said to cure depression a person must pray hard and fervently to God or ‘more effectively’, be taken to a pastor for deliverance from ‘the spirit of depression’. Apparently, depression has a ‘spirit’.” My mom simply shook her head in obvious disappointment and unbelievable shock that she obviously had not gotten over from, had a bite of her cookies and sipped from her tea. I watched her, silently absorbing every information she was dishing and analysing it. What the hell was wrong with Nigerians and their uninformed, misguided and ignorant stereotypes? That didn’t even make one ounce of sense, no matter how many times I tried flipping it over in my head to test if it had any sense in it.

“And so,” Mom continued, “I started wondering if I was the crazy one, because I have depression, and my daughter has OCD and Bipolar that leads to lots of crazy s**t like depression; I know what we feel, and I know we do not feel that way because we want to, or because we want the devil to control our lives. They were speaking like we could control what was happening to us.” I noticed this talk was already getting to my mom deeply and so I quickly chipped in to make her feel better. “Of course it’s not our fault Mom. Those people are very ignorant and have no idea what they were saying. Please don’t let it get to you.”

She chuckled lowly, and said, “it already has.” She sipped more from her tea, which I now realised was helping her keep her cool. Then I knew why my mom asked Juanita to make that tea; Juanita makes awesome teas and my mom figured that her own tea-making might not be enough to help her keep calm she way wanted to. “I might have not even cared that much if it was not a huge conference, with many people and reporters in it. But it was a huge conference, and the speakers making these dumb statements are people well respected in the society and popular. You know what that means? They’re spreading ignorance and misinformation into the minds of people at large. The reporters will go back to their media houses to do what? Publish the nonsense these speakers said, which people will take as the gospel because they love them. It’s pretty sick.”

I put a hand on my mother’s, as a gesture of comfort giving, support and love. She continued, “I just wondered how it was not possible for them to realise they were hurting a whole sect of people with their talk, that they were being insensitive. Can people be that blind?” Of course, my mom knew the answer, but she still looked at me to give an answer. I nodded my head and said, “Yes Mom. People can be that blind. And insensitive. This is how queer people in Nigeria feel all the time.”

It seemed like a realisation, that realisation, hit my mom with that statement, because it showed in her face, and her eyes, and I felt the energies. She knew about my sexuality, that I’m lesbian, a girl who likes girls, a young woman who falls in love with other women. But deep down, she never truly wanted to identify with it. She wasn’t comfortable with it, she wasn’t as supportive as I would expect her to be. But it was okay. I understood that she was unlearning a lot of things, and was aware of her internalized homophobia, and was willing to work on them. I understood that and that was what gave me joy because honestly? I didn’t know what I would do if my own mother couldn’t accept my existence. Even if I never kissed girls or slept with women ever, it doesn’t change the glaring fact that I would still love and admire and treasure them the way a heterosexual woman would love and admire and treasure men. So, her willing to be better was really a major factor in why my will to live remained, however weak it was.

I was willing to steer the topic back to the conference so I asked her, “What else did they say at that Satan-ridden place?” This made her laugh, and I found it funny so I laughed too. Okay maybe I’m a little funny. A little.

“They said that when people commit suicide, they do it because they are selfish and wicked, giving the reason behind this flawed logic to be that, ‘why would you want to cause your family and friends and even parents pain? If you were not wicked and selfish, you would care, and would not want to be depressed.’ I kept wondering in my head, depressed people don’t even care about themselves and even their hygiene in extreme cases; you really think it’s what others think of them they would? I sighed. I just sighed in tiredness. They just kept centering the narrative on the fact that depression is a choice, and that it’s only because the ‘so called depressed person wants attention and validation too much’, and I don’t know what is more stupid than that. My goodness.”

I gave a sly smile and said, “Trump is more stupid than that.” We both laughed at this and my mom tapped my nose. “You this girl! What would I do without you?” “Probably cry and overwork Juanita and John,” I said so fast, it sounded like I was rapping. My mom and I laughed again. I decided it was time to end that conversation about the conference. I knew that my mom could go on and on about what happened, but she could not change anything about the past, so rather than making her remember and feel bad about it, I decided we talked about something else.

“Aw screw those conference people anyways. We should have seen it coming when they invited people who have said s**t like ‘women are subordinate to men and to their husbands’ in the past, to be speakers.” This made my mom laugh, and I smiled gently. I enjoyed doing this. I was her personal comedian. I don't get paid at all for doing this job though, I thought, as my brows furrowed playfully because of the thoughts in my head. This made me chuckle.

I ate some cookies, drank some lemonade from my cup, and told my mom, “I had loads of fun today and Mama and Papa’s though.” My mom slightly frowned at me. “Are you trying to make me feel miserable for having a bad day, by telling me you had a good one?” She asked. My eyes widened. That was honestly not my intention, and even if she sounded like she was overreacting, I didn’t want her to think at all that I was being insensitive about her experience or was not validating her feelings from her horrible day.

“Omg Mom, that was not what I meant! I was just trying to make conversation! I didn’t know you’d feel that way, I’m so sorry-” I was cut short by my mother’s loud laughter. I was confused. I thought she was mad at me...?

Am I sure I am the bipolar one in this house?

“I’m just kidding, Jade, relax!” She said in between laughs.

I wasn’t even smiling. Like, my look was just blunt. And for some reason, she found that funny and that made her laugh more. “Mom, stop.” I said, bluntly.

“My goodness, you flipped! Haahaahaa!”

I just stared, waiting for her to finish laughing.

Blinked. Blinked again. Okay, this might take a while...

I took the lemonade jug and refilled my cup, waiting for her to finish. But there was something about the way my mom laughed that was so contagiously hilarious, I started to laugh too. Gently at first, then the energy built up, slowly, slowly, and before you knew it, I was laughing as loud and as hard as she was, for no reason in particular apart from the fact that her laugh made me laugh. It was so funny. I was trying so hard to contain my laughter and failing, which my mom found very amusing, making her laugh more, which in turn made me laugh harder. It was just a never-ending circle of laughing madness. I couldn’t even remember the original cause of the laughing spree anymore by the time we finally calmed down and it all ended.

My mom and I drank our tea and lemonade respectively, after finally catching our breath. Juanita walked into the kitchen, wondering what was wrong with the both of us. She chuckled, and said, “did someone leak the laughing gas?” That wasn’t supposed to be that funny, but for two souls that had just laughed like their lives depended on it, like they had a laughing problem or even a disease of laughter, this was just more fuel to feed the fire we just tried putting out. We laughed again, this time Juanita joining us. She was the first to cut it out and tapped my mom on the back, saying, “stop you too. You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

I started wondering if people could truly have heart attacks from laughing too hard. It seemed absurd. But I decided in my head that that would be an honourable, good and even beautiful way to die. Better to die laughing that crying into your pillow at night, wishing and praying for your mental illnesses to go away, right?

I continued what I was saying earlier. “So as I was saying Mom, this time please don’t laugh,” I quickly added the last part when I noticed her about to slip again, “I really had loads of fun and Mama and Papa’s.” She took a little while to reply, probably trying not to laugh like a silly teenage kid anymore, then finally said, “you always have loads of fun at their place sweetheart.” “Yes but this time, it felt...different.” I paused to have a sip of my lemonade and added, “maybe it was the face-masks.”

“Face-masks? What face-masks?” Juanita asked, joining in on our conversation. I didn’t mind, I kind of wanted her to do so anyways, subconsciously. “It’s probably related to the manicure and pedicure bowls I saw sprawled out in the palour, that Mama or Papa, or both, refused to take back to the spa-room. I wonder why it was even there in the first place,” Mom replied.

“Yes Mom, you’re right,” I said, then chuckled, “Papa is a wannabe manicurist.” All three of us laughed at this. “Of course he is,” said Juanita, which made the three of us laugh again. “Whose idea was the face-masks anyways?” Juanita asked, and my mom quickly replied, in-between laughs, “I can already picture who it is. I am almost a hundred percent certain of who suggested it.” She shook her head as if to say, ‘I’m tired of my mom’. I chuckled at this and told my mom, “your suspicions are right Mom. Mama suggested it.” “I knew it!” My mom went. I laughed and said, “Yes Mom. It was Mama and Onyinye.”

Mom gave me a sly smile. Only god knows what she meant with that. “What is it?” I asked her. “Onyinye huh?” She said, that weird smile still on her face. “Yes...?,” I replied, “what is it?”

Juanita, in momentary confusion, asked, “Onyinye? Who’s that?” My mom simply scoffed at me and fake-whispered at Juanita, in a way that was definitely meant for me to hear; “oh it’s no one. Just Jade’s new ‘interest’.” Juanita’s face went a capital ‘oohh’.

“Mom!” I yelled, “I can hear you!” Juanita whispered back to my mom, seemingly forgetting I’m around, “how pretty is she please?” My face was filled with shock. “Excuse me?!” I yelled at them. “She’s very pretty,” my mom whispered back, emphasizing her point by doing a thumbs-up and an ‘ok’ sign. I rolled my eyes.

Juanita whispered again, and apparently at this point these two seemed to have forgotten my existence, “when do you think she’s gonna ask her out?”

My face went a 360° ‘what the f**k?’ I quickly interjected, “Okay first of all, y’all don’t even know if she’s gay-” I was interrupted with Juanita’s hands flaying about in an attempt to shut me up, while my mom whispered to her back, “I think she might very soon. Maybe even the next time they meet...”

I sighed. And I yelled at both of them to get their attention back. “CAN THE BOTH OF YOU PLEASE NOTICE I’M STILL HERE? YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT ME LIKE I’M GONE. OH AND, I CAN HEAR YOU WHISPERING BECAUSE YOU GUYS ARE TERRIBLE AT IT!”

They just laughed at me, but finally kept quiet. Well at least I got them to do that again.

I took a deep breath, quickly had a gulp of lemonade, and then continued talking. “Onyinye and I are nothing but newly-met acquaintances. Nothing else. We literally just met today. The both of you need to relax. I am not going to be your teenage romance fantasy.” I finished off by biting a cookie and chewing which sounded loud because everywhere had suddenly become so silent. “Well what a way for you to ruin two old ladies’ fun,” Juanita said, sighing to show disappointment. I chuckled at this and continued eating.

“I still ship the both of you though.”

I looked beside me at where that came from. My mom, of course. No surprise there. “Mom...” “No it’s true,” she interjected, “I saw the way you looked at her, and how you smiled when she whispered to you. Oh yes, I saw you,” she added the last part when she noticed my face lit up with faint surprise, almost because I didn’t even notice the things she was pointing out, “staring and looking at her face like she was the gold in the Golden Globe. You probably kept thinking in your head, ‘damn what a pretty girl!’ I am so certain.” My mother finished off, sipping her tea and looking satisfyingly at me, knowing she had hit the nail right on the head. Juanita just kept looking between the both of us to understand what was going on, if my mom was right or not.

“Okay fine, I will admit, she is very pretty. Beautiful. She looks really amazing and I would pass her for a fashion diva or model if I had seen her on the internet. But I do not like her that way. I don’t even know her, and I don’t even want to push that mission anytime soon.”

Juanita nodded her head at me in understanding, my mom shook hers. They both seemed to get my point though. “I am not asking you to do anything Jade,” my mother said, chuckling, “you don’t have to even talk to her ever again in your life if you don’t want to. It’s completely fine. But I just hope you’re not running away because of some past ‘ish’, as you would call it.”

I feigned confusion on my face. “What do you mean?” I asked, “I don’t run.” Juanita gave me a look as if to say, ‘uh-hun girl, don’t you go there dishing that lie to us, we know you like the sun knows the motherfucking sky.’ “I think everyone on this table knows how you can run so hard and fast away from your problems Jade, rather than confronting them head-on, and that's very bad,” came from my mom.

“Okay, so the topic's about me now?” I asked, getting uncomfortable that they were talking about my weaknesses. “Honey of course it’s about you. It has been about you since,” Mom replied. Juanita chipped in immediately after my mom, “you’re just scared. You know what it feels like to love, and to lose that love, and it scares you to try loving again, because you’re afraid. And that’s okay. But, please don’t let that stop you from being a young person and actually living and breathing, not just existing.” I closed my eyes as if to disappear. I knew I could easily leave the kitchen right there and then if I wanted to, but deep down I knew what they were saying was true, and I needed it. I needed to hear every ounce of it.

“This is not about that Onyinye girl, who seems nice by the way-,” Juanita continued, in that calm, deeply motherly tone of hers, “-well, actually, it kind of is about her since she sparked up this conversation-but it isn’t solely about the two of you. It’s about how you throw away opportunities at amazing relationships with people darling. That is bad, and that is scary. And unhealthy.”

There was a long silence at the table. Obviously, the two elder women knew they were right on top of the money, and had hit a soft spot. I just sat there, analysing everything they said. They were right. I have been over-defensive, and over-distrusting, and over-paranoid; and honestly? It is very stressful to be these things. Juanita said something that deeply hurt but was true; for a long time, I had ceased to live and began to simply exist; I was just around as a human being present on earth, but I was not living my best life, meeting new people or making beautiful experiences and memories. I had cut off so many friends, if they hadn’t cut me off first when they discovered my mental health's state and sexuality. I was alone. I felt lonely. And I was always building new walls whenever I met new people. I know it is important to guard oneself and one’s heart from abuse and danger, but it felt like I had taken it to the extreme, and subconsciously, I was about to do that with Onyinye too, and I probably would have, if this conversation with Mom and Juanita didn’t come up.

“Maybe you just need to give that Onyinye girl a chance, it doesn’t have to be romantically; friendships are awesome too. She seems like she would really like to know you and be your friend, and honestly? I think you need more friends than the ones you have now, which, when I checked, are not many, which is euphemism for there are none. You’re lonely baby, and I know it and you know it too. Having more people in your life than your grandparents and mother and sister and house employees and awesome housekeepers that can do just about anything,” this made Juanita chuckle, “will be good for you. Good for your mind too, and even your mental health.” My mom finished her speech with a bite from her cookie, and chewing it loudly, copying exactly what I had done before.

I sighed, refilled my glass of lemonade, and drank lots of gulps. When I was done, I looked at the both of them, Mom and Juanita, and I simply smiled and said, “thank you so much. You have valid points. I don’t know what I’d do without you two.” They smiled at this. I continued, “now I’m not promising anything, but I have listened, and I have heard and understood. Besides, on the good side, Onyinye will make a funny friend that talks a lot all day.” This made them laugh again, and I joined them in the laughter.

I sighed. “Maybe it’s because of Treasure I’m like this, especially in my love life.” They both nodded, absorbing everything I said deeply.

Treasure is my girlfriend-ex-girlfriend- that cheated on me with my ‘best friend’. Best of friends indeed. This happened a long time ago, but I've not gotten over that betrayal, and that is one of the reasons I find it hard to trust people. Naturally I don’t trust easily, so if there was anything Treasure and my former ‘best friend’ Taylor did, it was to make my natural distrust worse. It made me question every friendship I had till I burned it all to the ground because I believed they were not worthy.

They are together now. Dating and loving. I see them on i********: and I just laugh with distaste. I would have really appreciated it if Treasure had just told me that she liked Taylor and not me anymore. Or if Taylor told me she liked my girlfriend and didn’t want me to find out behind my back. I would have felt respected if Treasure had just broken up with me like a brave person, and explained that it was because she loved my best friend, and not me. Sure, it would have hurt like crazy, but you know what? It wouldn't have been as bad as what their betrayal did to me. It literally broke me, made my conditions worse.

Fuck them for real. I was ready to live now. Not simply exist.