Maple and Light.

Chapter Three.

“Okay people,” I started, like a Professor about to lecture her students, “let’s begin! First of all, you wipe your faces with those wet wipes, yes, exactly that way, do it, get to the edges, you wanna do your ears and necks? Okay wipe those if you want too. Drop the wipes in the bins near you, okay good, good.”

Onyinye continued after me, “now, get another wet wipe and wipe your brushes, yes, the tip, not the whole stick, just the brush part, Uh-hun, good, that’s it! Now, throw those wipes in the bin again. Reach out into the big bowl of avocado-and-eggs mask-let’s start with that-and take a little from it using your brushes. Good! Now apply them gently on to your faces, you might want to first start from your chin or your forehead, anywhere you want really.”

I continued. “I usually like starting from my cheekbones, it feels easier. Spread it on your faces evenly...okay...good, take another scoop, take as many as you like, but don’t add too much. Avoid your eyes please; we’d add lemon slices on them later when they’re covered, but we must finish adding the masks first. Okay good. Move if slowly, no need to rush...okay...take another scoop of mask mix if you need to, or run out of it on your brush...”

We continued this way, taking turns to explain and sometimes even helping Mama and Papa physically with the brushes.

“We’ll soon take the lemon slices, but I know we all know how that works; they come on the closed eyes. Just continue to spread the mix...”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was a couple of hours later, like two or three, when we were done with all of the facial and skincare routines. It was really fun, and we laughed through it. It was also colourful, both literally and figuratively; and messy, oh, very, very messy. Mama poured a lot of the charcoal mix on the floor by mistake (though now that I think of it, Mama is a very mischievous person, and Papa sharpens her mischief like the Bible sharpens Christians; meaning, it’s very possible she poured it on purpose for fun). But it was funny because we then got on the floor and began applying it from there with our brushes, like we did from the bowl earlier. It was so silly, but it felt really good.

This was why I loved staying at my grandparents’. It was one of the very few places I could entirely be myself, let loose and be happy. I loved them so much.

We were back in the palour, eating popcorn and a bunch of other junk like chocolates and sweets and biscuits (don’t worry, a lot of the junk was sugar-free, so Mama and Papa can still eat them, even though they’re old. Well, not so old bit you know what I mean) and watching Money Heist series for the one millionth time in our lives. We love the series a lot, and luckily, Onyinye does too so it was a win-win. We had started it from the beginning again, and it felt nostalgic. I felt like I could relate to Tokyo’s sadness of loss, even though I had never particularly lost someone but my dad, but I brushed that feeling away quickly before it registered in my head and triggered another episode yet again, and just decided to chill and enjoy the movie.

Papa is the kind of person that would talk throughout a movie if he is watching it with a group. Cinemas were really not for him if he was rewatching a movie because he would talk through it and almost never let you concentrate, and will ultimately give you spoilers of the movie, even if you know how the story already goes because you’ve watched it too. I chuckled as I saw him doing this again and again, ticking Mama off, who likes moderate silence when she’s watching a movie, even if she’s watched it before.

“I just love the carriage of the Professor, how he moves, how he acts and talks. He’s so smart,” Papa started, and then chuckled naughtily, “he’s like who I want to be when I grow up.” Mama chuckled at this silly statement and told him, “shhhh, I need to hear this part.” I watched the both of them, having the instincts that a little fight would happen in the nearest future, because I knew that Papa was not gonna stop.

“Oh oh look at this scene! This is the place where they’re going to kidnap the truck drivers!” Mama’s sigh was so loud, I believe she made it so so Papa would undoubtedly hear it and feel her rising frustration. “I know honey, I’m watching it too,” She said, the tone sounding strained and funny. I chuckled lowly and that got the attention of Onyinye, who, as usual, sat beside me. I motioned with my eyes to my grandparents, and she observed them along with me.

Papa slightly frowned. “Why do I feel like you don’t care about what I have to say?” Mama pressed her lips together so hard, it hurt my own face. “Ade,” She started, calling my grandfather’s name, “I’m listening, but can I please hear the movie too?” “But what if I want you to listen to me too? Is the movie more important than I am?” Papa asked. I find these two dramatic. Beside me, I heard Onyinye chuckle.

“Okay then. Watch your movie. Your Money Heist,” he said the last part like it was a virus, and this made me and Onyi (oh yeah she said I could call her Onyi) snicker so hard. Mama pulled him closer and whispered something to him. He whispered back, and it felt like they were going on and on in hushed tones for a while like teenagers. Finally, Papa smiled at Mama, and whispered something fast in her ears, that made her laugh out loud too. I looked at Onyi, the confusion an obvious twin on our faces. I didn’t even want to know what they were talking about so I simply rolled my eyes and ate more snacks.

“Old people are weird,” Onyi said lowly near me. I nodded strongly and replied, “second that.” I had no idea Mama heard us as she went, “you two will become ‘old people’ one day too o! E kare, eyin omo daada!” (Yoruba for; well done, good children, but sarcastic in this scenario).

We felt like two little kids caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar, as our eyes were wide open and our faces were flushed. We chuckled, both in embarrassment and because Mama was funny.

I had already lost a little interest in the movie because of Mama and Papa’s dramatic distraction, and I really wanted to talk to Onyinye- I had started finding a certain fondness with her- so I asked her, “who’s your favourite character?” She motioned to the T.V., as if to ask 'is that what you're asking about?', because her mouth was full and I nodded, in my head I went, “duh?”

It was very short seconds but she finished what was in her mouth and said, “Tokyo”. I smiled. Tokyo was my favourite too, but I didn’t want to let her know that yet. So I asked, “why though?” “Uh, because she’s totally badass? She says what she wants to say without being afraid of who she’s saying it to, and that’s so cool. It feels like she’s the lawyer of the group, probably because she’s always defending Rio. I just like her, I feel her and I feel like I can relate to her you know.”

I nodded in understanding. “I like Tokyo too.”

“I also like the Professor. And Nairobi.” I nodded in understanding. I liked them too, I said in my head. “And Helsinki,” She added, like she forgot to add it to the cake earlier. I looked at her sharply, even if I didn’t mean to. I hoped in my head that she didn’t notice. She was still watching the T.V., acting like she didn’t just mention the major queer character at the beginning of the movie.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me (okay that’s a lie, I do; it’s intrusive thoughts and anxieties from OCD), and why I was doing this mental exercise, cause it didn’t really mean anything, or wasn’t that important, if someone likes a gay character. She could be straight and like a gay character for its likeability and funniness, or hair or fashion style; actually anything for f**k’s sakes. And at this point, I was really curious and eager to know if she was straight or not because the vibes I’ve been getting since I met her, the vibes she’s been giving me...haven’t exactly been straight. But I’d rather not assume. Let me know.

So I said, “Helsinki huh? I like him too. He’s very big and cute, like a fuzzy teddy bear everyone in the group wants to hug. Haha I’ve never hugged him before, but it feels like his hugs can drown all my sorrows away. At least, that’s how it feels from the movie when he hugs his friends.” Onyinye simply nodded in understanding, not really knowing what to say in reply to my little rant. I was a little hesitant to continue; maybe this was so because I was a chicken and scared, or maybe it was just a subconscious, unconscious sense of fear of rejection, even if I wasn’t exactly sure what that rejection could possibly be at that point in time. But I continued anyways, because my curiosity was stronger than my fear.

“So,” I asked, “why do you like Helsinki?” I figured this was a safe question since I had asked the same about Tokyo. “All the reasons you gave Jade. He’s a sweetheart, and he’s loyal to the cause. You can’t really lose with that.” I nodded, and she continued, “plus, he’s gay.”

It took all of my acting skills to act like I didn’t want to jump and scream in joy, but keep my composure on my freaking seat. Don’t jump to conclusions Jade, I silently told myself, straight people can like gay people. They befriend each other all the time.

“You okay Jade?” Onyi asked, probably noticing my unusually calm demeanour. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

A wild thought ran through my head, one that shouldn’t be so wild, but I wasn’t sure if I had the courage to pull through; ask her if she was gay directly. That shouldn’t be much of a deal, right?

“Onyi?”

“Yeah?”

“...What’s your sexuality?”

She took her eyes from the movie and looked at me. Held my gaze and for the first time that day, it felt like I saw a glimpse into another side of her I did not know, if that even makes any sense, but that’s how I felt. She smiled and replied like it was nothing, “I’m bisexual.”

That was a shocking-not-so-shocking news.

I didn’t know how to feel. Excitement? Terror? Fear? Shock that I didn’t know? You’ve only known her for a few hours, stupid, my thoughts said, they don’t write sexuality on people’s foreheads. ‘Shock that you did not know’ is totally unnecessary.

I didn’t know what to say so I just said, “Okay. Okay. Cool.” She glanced at me and held a hidden, mischievous smile I didn’t understand, looked back at the T.V. and said, “yeah.”

I don’t know why it felt so exciting, probably because I really liked her from our first encounter since we’ve met, and liked her energies, I don’t know. Or maybe because it was the first time someone told me physically in Nigeria, ‘I’m bisexual.’ I don’t know. All the times I had met queer people for the first time, except outside my country, it was online, and most of the time I already knew they were queer because of their profiles. So no need to ask, ‘what’s your sexuality?’ like I did Onyinye. You don’t just go out and ask people their sexuality here, unless you’re safe. You don’t just walk down the street, meet someone, talk to them and in the process of knowing each other, ask, ‘oh and by the way, what’s your sexuality?’ They’d either not understand what you mean, or think you’re crazy because in their head they’re like, ‘which other sexuality will one have? Heterosexuality of course! God forbid I be gay!’ like it’s a sin or some disease. Unless you were lucky that the person you asked was queer, or even a straight liberal and personally educated one (because one can go to school, get an education, and still spread homophobia or hate like an illiterate; many Nigerians are living proof), you’d probably get beaten or insulted by the average Nigerian that’s over-religious and homophobic.

I sighed in tiredness. Man, it’s stressful living inside my head.

I felt interested again in the movie and watched, enjoyed and laughed with the lovely people around me. A few hours passed, like one and a half, or two, of binge-watching Money Heist and eating some healthy snacks, and some, well, not so healthy (insert naughty snickers here with Onyi and me at the background doing the snickering), and then my mom finally came. She was happy to see Onyinye again, she told her. Onyi said the same thing. I wonder if they both meant it, but the looks on their faces insisted they did. Well I know my mom to be an honest person, except when she's lying about what she's feeling, so I can say she meant that. I didn't know Onyi well enough yet to conclude that she was saying the truth or lying though.

Mom stayed for a little while, talked to my grandparents, laughed at them and made fun of their fights, and so on. Haha, it was the usual that never gets old. Everything was good, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. Well, almost...perfect. My older and only sister wasn’t here, she was missing from the physical picture, but not from the mental one in my head because, she was in the university in a foreign country, and I knew she was alright. I called her last night, Skyped with her, she was alive and well. At least that was what she told me.

Anyways for that moment, everything felt good, and everyone was laughing, and as usual, my grandparents’ home boomed with love and laughter. For the first time in a long time, I felt strongly like I had something no one could take from me; this; a home. I might have been wrong, but I didn’t care. I was happy. And my mom was too, so that made me even happier. Everyone seemed to be happy, the jokes were hard ones as my mom was a really funny person when she decided to be.

Was this what joy felt like? Damn it was too good, I was scared I couldn’t handle it. But something in me turned, and told me I could. I should try. I wouldn’t die. I wouldn’t explode. And, I’d rather die from happiness and pure, peaceful bliss and peace of mind, than heartache and mental illnesses, right?

It was finally time to go home. I picked up my things and all. Because my grandparents are Nigerian at heart, they and Onyinye escorted my mom and me to our car outside. I kissed my Papa and Mama goodbye, told them I loved them, hugged Onyinye, thanking her for being awesome and telling her once again that it was really nice meeting her, looked all three of them in the eyes and meant it when I said, “I had a really good time. Today was fun. I was having a bad day but the three of you made it better than better; y’all made it happy and awesome. Thank you.”

My mom got into the car at the left side of the back seat, waiting for me to get in so she can say her usual, ‘drive John’ to our driver. She liked staying at Mama and Papa’s but it was evident she was tired from her day and wanted to go home to rest. I didn’t blame her though. I still wanted to know what happened at that god-forsaken conference to make her so sad earlier. I’m glad Mama and Papa spread the joy they had spread to me to her too when she came there.

I gave a final smile of goodbye, almost reluctant to leave, then Onyinye paused me.

“Jade.” She called. I paused and turned back, her maple-like voice so smooth, so controlling in softness and almost as confusing as, and had the unbalanced balance of, the waves. Ironic right? “I’d text you,” she said, with a smile, which made me smile sheepishly and nod. “You didn’t tell me what your own sexuality is,” She added. And I froze. I didn’t think I was ready for her to know that, my insecurities and fear of rejection and anxieties and fear of happiness and perfection kicking in (isn’t it ironic that I always aim for perfection but constantly fear getting it?), but something in me churned, the same thing that had told me I would survive happiness and would not die from it, the same thing that told me now that I should breathe, live, let a little gentle but steady breeze cool my head, my heart and my soul like calming cold water.

I smiled at her. The smile was still there after I gave her my answer, ever so genuine; the smile was still there even after I winked at her after the answer had fallen from my lips.

“I’m lesbian.”