My first love

My first love

Chapter one

The Day He Came Back

The sun in Awka was doing what it always did in April burning like it had a personal problem with everyone. Sharon wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and adjusted the tray of puff-puff and meat pie on her head. "Puff-puff! Hot meat pie! 200 naira only!" she called, her voice already hoarse from shouting since 8am.

It was her final year. UNIZIK had drained her. School fees, handouts, feeding... her mother’s shop at Eke Awka wasn’t selling like before. So Sharon did what many girls did. She sold after classes.

She was 21, beautiful, had a well curved shape. Her breast is standing so firm, Her hair was packed in a low bun, her white and purple UNIZIK polo was tucked into black jeans, and she had slippers on because heels and tarred road were not friends.

"Puff-puff!"

That was when she heard it. A car horn. Not the regular keke or bus horn. A deep, expensive beep. Sharon didn’t look up. Rich boys and their cars meant wahala. Last semester one of them splashed muddy water on her tray and didn’t even apologize. But the car stopped right beside her. The window rolled down slowly.

"Sharon?"

Her name. In that deep familiar voice. Like a song she had forgotten the lyrics to but remembered how it made her feel. She froze. The tray on her head suddenly felt like it weighed 100kg. She turned slowly.The boy in the driver’s seat was wearing black sunglasses and a white T-shirt. He had grown taller. His jaw was sharper. But the eyes behind those glasses? She would know them anywhere.

Desmond.

Her first love. The boy who left Awka 4 years ago when his dad got a job in Canada and never said goodbye properly. Just one text “I’m sorry Sharon”. My dad said we’re leaving tomorrow.” That was it. And now he was here. In a black Mercedes In Awka Looking at her selling puff-puff.

Sharon’s throat went dry. "Des... Desmond?"

He took off his sunglasses. Same eyes. Dark, soft, with that little crinkle when he smiled. Except he wasn’t smiling now. He looked... shocked. And maybe guilty.

"What are you doing?" he asked quietly.

Sharon straightened up. “What does it look like I’m doing?" she said, lifting her chin. "I’m working. What are you doing here?"

Desmond opened the car door and stepped out. He was taller now. Way taller. He filled out that white T-shirt in a way that made some girls across the road turn and stare.

He walked close to her. She could smell his cologne. Something expensive and clean.

"I came back for NYSC," he said. "Posted to Anambra. I didn’t know you... I didn’t know you were still here." “Still here?" Sharon laughed, but it wasn’t a happy laugh. "Where else would I be, Desmond? Canada? This is my home."

An awkward silence. People were watching. Mama Nkechi who sold akara two stands down was already doing eye signal to other market women. Desmond looked at the tray. Then at her hands. Her nails were short. There was flour on her fingers.

"Do you... do you need help?" he asked.

Sharon felt anger rise hot in her chest. Four years. No call. No message. And now "do you need help?" “I don’t need your help," she said firmly. "I need customers. So if you’re not buying, please move your big car."

Desmond blinked. Then something in his face softened. The old Desmond. The one who used to share gala with her during WAEC lessons. “Sell me everything," he said.

"What?"

"Sell me everything on the tray. How much is it?" “That’s like... 12,000 naira," Sharon said, confused. He brought out his Black Leather wallet. He counted out 15,000 and put it in her hand. His fingers brushed hers and Sharon felt it. That same stupid electric shock she felt at 17.

"Keep the change," he said. "And let me drop you home. It’s hot." “I can manage myself," Sharon said, but her voice was weaker now. Desmond didn’t argue. He just took the empty tray from her head, put it in his boot, and opened the passenger door for her.

“Sharon, please. Just talk to me for 10 minutes. I owe you that much.

“Owe her.

That word hit her. Four years of wondering. Four years of crying to her pillow. Four years of seeing other couples and thinking "that could have been us."

She should say no. She should walk away.

But she was tired. And curious. And maybe, just maybe, a small part of her still loved him.

Sharon got in.

The car was cold from AC. It smelled new. There was a UNIZIK sticker on the dashboard. Desmond’s.

As he drove, neither of them spoke for a while. Awka passed by outside. The same potholes. The same Aroma junction traffic. The same life, but different.

"Why didn’t you call?" Sharon finally asked, staring out the window.

Desmond gripped the steering wheel. "My dad said it would be better if we cut contact. He said long distance would... hurt us."

"Hurt us?" Sharon turned to him. "You disappearing hurt me more, Desmond."

“I know," he whispered. "I’m sorry. I was 18 and scared. I thought if I called you, I wouldn’t be able to leave."

Sharon didn’t answer. What was there to say? They reached her street in Ifite. Small compound house. Red gate. Her mother’s wrapper was outside on the line.

Desmond parked but didn’t switch off the engine.

“I’m staying for 1 year," he said. "For service. I’m posted to a school in Nibo."

Sharon nodded.

“I want to see you again," he added quickly. "Not like this. Can we... can we talk properly? Sharon looked at him. The boy she wrote letters to. The boy she kissed once behind the school hall during valedictory.

A lot had changed. But some things didn’t.

“My number is still the same," she said finally, and got out before she could change her mind. She didn’t look back as she walked into her compound. But she heard his car stay there for 30 seconds more before driving off.

That night, her phone buzzed at 11:47pm.

Unknown number It’s me. Desmond. Can we start again?

Sharon stared at the message for a long time. Her first love was back. And Awka would never be the same.

Sharon remember their secondary school days. The generator at school had gone off again. Third time that week.

Sharon was sitting under the mango tree behind the school hall, sweating, and trying to read the topic democracy from her government textbook.

“Democracy is the Government of the people, by the people..."

"and for the people," a voice finished for her.

Sharon looked up and almost dropped her book.

Desmond.

SSS3 Science class students. He is Tall, quiet, intelligent and handsome always first in Maths. He wore glasses then and his uniform was always too neat. Like he ironed it with a ruler.

"You’re disturbing me," Sharon said, but she was smiling.

Desmond sat down beside her without asking. Their arms touched.

"You’ve been reading this same page for 20 minutes," he said, pointing at her book. "You’re not reading. You’re thinking."

Sharon blushed. "And how did you know?"

"Because I do the same thing when I see you in class," he said it so casually, like he was talking about weather.

Sharon’s heart did somersault. "Desmond! Don’t say rubbish."

"It’s not rubbish," he said, and took off his glasses to clean them on his shirt. Without glasses, his eyes looked bigger. Softer. "You laugh loudest during break. You share your meat pie even when you only have one. And you always help Mrs. Okeke carry her bag after class."

Sharon stared at him. "You... you noticed all that?"

Desmond nodded. "I notice everything about you, Sharon."

The air changed. Even the mango tree went quiet.

Then someone shouted "TEACHERS ARE COMING!" and they both jumped up and ran, laughing.

That was how it started.

2 WEEKS LATER - VALEDICTORY NIGHT

The hall was decorated with balloons. Music was playing from one small speaker. Parents were clapping. Sharon was wearing a yellow dress her mom sewed. She felt beautiful for the first time in a long time.

Desmond found her near the refreshment table.

"You look..." he started, then stopped. "You look like sunshine."

Sharon giggled. "You’ve been watching too many movies."

"Maybe," Desmond said. Then he did something brave. He took her hand.

His palm was sweaty. Hers too.

"Walk with me?" he asked.

They walked to the back of the hall, where it was dark and quiet. The sound of music was far. Desmond stopped and faced her.

"Sharon, I like you," he said in one rush. "Like, a lot. Since SS1. I wanted to tell you but I was scared you’d laugh."

Sharon’s chest felt tight. "I... I like you too, Desmond."

His face lit up like NEPA just came back.

"Really?"

"Yeah," she whispered.

And then he did it. He leaned in and kissed her soft and quick . Behind the school hall, with the smell of jollof rice in the air.

It was her first kiss. His too.

"I promise," Desmond whispered against her forehead. "One day I’ll come back for you. Properly."

Sharon believed him.

Sharon was still staring at her phone when all this was going through her mind.

It’s me. Desmond. Can we start again?

Her heart was doing that same SS3 thing. Fast. Stupid. Hopeful.

She typed. Deleted. Typed again.

Sharon why now? After 4 years?

The reply came in 2 seconds. Like he was waiting.

Desmond Because I was stupid then. Because I see you today and I realized I never stopped loving you. Can I come see you tomorrow? Just to talk.

She looked at her ceiling fan. Thought about bills. Thought about her empty tray today. Thought about how his eyes looked when he said her name.

Sharon Fine 4pm at Roban Stores. The zobo spot.

She put her phone down and pulled her blanket over her head. Outside, crickets were singing.

Her first love was back.

And this time, she wasn’t 17 anymore.

The engine was still running.

Desmond sat in his car outside Sharon’s compound and gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

What the hell was that? Four years. Four years of pretending he was fine. Four years of "Canada is good, school is good, I’m good." And in 5 minutes of seeing her, selling puff-puff under that hot sun, everything crashed.

She was thinner. Tired. But God... she was still the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. That same stubborn chin. That same way she lifted it when she was angry.

"Do you need help?" he had asked her. Stupid. So stupid.

Of course she didn’t need his help. Not after what he did. Desmond rested his head on the steering wheel. The day his dad said "We’re leaving tomorrow for Canada" he was 18. Scared. He thought if he told Sharon, she’d beg him to stay. And he didn’t know if he had the strength to say no.

So he ran. Coward.

His phone buzzed.

Did you eat? How was your first day in Awka? His mom texted him

He didn’t reply.

Instead he typed: It’s me. Desmond. Can we start again? and sent it to the number he never deleted.

Then he waited.

When she replied Fine. 4pm. Roban Stores. Desmond exhaled for what felt like the first time in 4 years.

He was posted to Nibo Secondary School for NYSC. One year. That was all he needed.

He was going to fix this. Or die trying.

“Sharon," he whispered to the empty car. "I’m so sorry."

*Next day 3:45PM at Roban stores Awka

Desmond got there 15 minutes early.

He bought 2 cups of zobo, meat pie, and puff-puff. Even though he bought her whole tray yesterday, he knew she’d still be hungry. He sat at the small plastic table outside Roban and watched the gate.

3:55pm. No Sharon.

4:00pm. No Sharon.

4:10pm. His chest started tightening.

"She’s not coming," he told himself. "You deserve it." Then he saw her.

Yellow dress. Hair in a neat bun. Slippers, but she walked like she owned the place. No tray this time.

Sharon.

She sat down opposite him without smiling.

Desmond pushed one cup of zobo to her.

“Thanks," she said. Took a sip. "It’s cold."

“That’s the point," Desmond said, and immediately wanted to slap himself.

There was heavy, awkward silence.

"So," Sharon said finally. "Why did you really come back?"

Desmond put his cup down. "Because of you."

Sharon raised an eyebrow. "Liar."

"No! I mean... not just you. NYSC posted me here. But when I saw you yesterday..." He ran a hand through his hair. "Sharon, I’ve thought about you every day."

"Every day?" She laughed, but it was bitter. "While you were in Canada with snow and iPhone and new girls?"

"No new girls," Desmond said quickly. "There was no one, Sharon. I tried. But it felt like cheating." Desmond leaned forward. "Look, I messed up. I was a child. My dad made the decision and I followed like a sheep. But I’m not 18 anymore. I’m 22. I have a job after service. I have my own car. And I want to do it right this time."

"Do what right?" Sharon asked quietly.

"This," Desmond said. "Us. If you’ll let me."

Sharon looked down at her zobo. Her fingers were trembling a little.

"Do you know how hard it was?" she whispered. "Watching everyone get admission, while I had to defer one year because of money. Selling puff-puff to pay for handouts. Crying at night because the boy I loved left without goodbye."

Desmond’s chest hurt. "I know. And I’m sorry. I can’t change yesterday. But let me be there for tomorrow."

Sharon was quiet for a long time. People walked past them into Roban stores. Keke drivers were honking.

Finally, she looked up.

"One condition," she said.

"Anything."

"You don’t disappear again. Not without talking to me. If you want to leave, you tell me to my face. Deal?"

Desmond felt something in his chest loosen.

"Deal," he said. "I promise."

Sharon nodded once. "Okay then."

"Okay?"

"Okay we can... try. As friends first."

Desmond grinned. The first real grin in 4 years. "Friends. I can do friends."

"Don’t grin like that," Sharon said, but she was smiling too. Small. "It’s unfair."

"What?" Desmond asked innocently.

"That dimple. You know it’s my weakness."

They both burst out laughing.

For the first time in years, it felt like SS3 again. Under the mango tree.

It was getting dark around 7:30pm and Desmond decided to drop Sharon home. The car ride was different this time.

"So what’s your plan after service?" Sharon asked.

"I want to start a tech company," Desmond said. "In Awka. For young people. Teach coding, design, stuff like that."

"That’s nice," Sharon said. "I want to finish school. Then maybe open my own bakery. My puff-puff is actually very good."

"The best," Desmond said quickly. "I ate 6 today."

Sharon hit his arm. "Liar!"

They pulled up to her gate.

Desmond switched off the engine but didn’t get out.

"Thank you," he said. "For giving me a chance."

Sharon looked at him. The boy she loved. The man he had become.

"We’re starting as friends," she reminded him.

"Friends," Desmond agreed. Then he added, "Best friends."

Sharon smiled and opened the door. "Goodnight, Desmond."

"Goodnight, Sharon."

As she walked into her compound, Desmond watched until the gate closed.

Then he drove off, his heart lighter than it had been in 4 years.

His phone buzzed.

The zobo was nice. Thanks. Sharon texted him.

See you tomorrow anytime, best friend? He replied her

Alright she texted back

Desmond laughed all the way home.