Genevieve was drunk and could only see the red lights from the back of people’s cars. She sat in the back of an Uber with her friends who were talking animatedly around her. She heard them talking but she could barely register their actual words. So, she had settled into a nervous silence – the opposite of what she had intended to achieve when she downed a can of Bullet thirty minutes prior. Perhaps the fact that she was meeting him today had more of an effect than the Bullet.
The thought terrified and excited her. She’d been talking to him for two months; two months of non-stop conversations because they spoke about anything and everything. She knew how many siblings he had (seven) and the specific ways in which they each annoyed him; she knew his mum’s favourite meal and the worst thing his dad did to him when he was six. Genevieve was borderline obsessed and enamoured by this man she’d never met – and to think she said she’d never fall for a rapper. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Their connection seemed inevitable; they shared too many mutual friends and ergo, the same interests – it was only a matter of time. It took a tweet about iMessage games for him to get her number and somewhere along the way, something had started brewing.
It didn’t happen immediately, but it did feel fated. She fell in deep, unconscious like (not love) with his mind and his music. They learnt that they shared the same trauma of having a painfully dysfunctional family as well as their similar taste in music. The nights they spent talking, miles apart in different universities, trading songs and secrets had laid a safe foundation for them to build something way beyond the surface.
So, her hands were shaky. She was meeting him today. She wondered if her breath stank as she burped up the aftertaste of the putrid Bullet she had chugged. She licked her lips instinctively and instantly regretted it, tasting the sticky 200 naira gloss she had on.
“Is Gen okay?”
“She’s meeting her boyfriend today, just look at how quiet she is.”
“He’s not my boyfriend ahn.” said Genevieve.
Yet, she thought. He’d asked her to be his girlfriend sometime last month, but she thought it was too soon. She was waiting for the ‘right time,’ whatever that meant, so she’d told him to wait. It had been almost a month since he asked, and she was growing impatient. Though Genevieve wondered why she was impatient. She wasn’t even sure if she was ready yet. The terrible relationship she ended in August had left a sour taste on her dating palate and she didn’t think she should be trying again so soon.
The car took a sharp turn onto a street that was flooded with pedestrians all walking in a certain direction. They were getting closer. Her phone lit up and she saw he had texted her. She typed out a response to inform him that she was close by. It was an unspoken get ready for me. She didn’t know what to expect. She had built up all these feelings for a complete stranger, what if his breath stank or he was shorter than she liked? All the panic and criticism she had reserved for herself suddenly melted away and gave way to a new set of fears. What if I just don’t like him in person? She had never actually considered this before now. She decided that if she didn’t like him, she would simply ditch him after a little bit and hide herself among her friends.
Genevieve regretted getting drunk; her thoughts had become too much to handle. This was not the plan. Her hands shot up to her ears when she realised that she’d forgotten to wear her hoops. She had a vague memory of them on the dining table at the apartment they had just left. Fuck. Her mum told her often that she looked like a boy without earrings. She wanted the ground to just open and swallow her. Despite the tight green halter-neck dress she was wearing, with her thick dark natural hair in two puffs and two-strand bangs, the feeling of ugliness overwhelmed her. The idea that she looked the slightest bit unattractive tormented her. He texted her again; he’d be waiting for her at the gate. Breathe, Gen! When the car eventually stopped, she quickly understood just how drunk she was when she was on her feet – barely so. Girls being girls, she and her friends decided to link arms as they made their way through the throngs of people standing in front of the venue.
She had only decided to come to this event at the last minute. Her friends had been gushing about it for weeks because Major Lazer was the headline act. They had blasted their songs loudly in their hostel rooms and danced in Genevieve’s face, trying desperately to get her to come along. She just wasn’t interested in the Lagos nightlife, especially not in December. The Livespot concert she’d been to earlier in the month did not motivate her either. Cardi B’s performance had been the highlight of her night, but the overall experience was simply dreadful. She encouraged her friends to have fun but constantly declined their invites to come along. The spirit of reconsideration fell on her when a mutual friend of hers and his asked her to come because he would be there. They had spoken about meeting up, but it felt as if they were both too scared to make definite plans. He had never directly asked her to link up, but they danced around it for quite a while, afraid to shatter their perfect fantasy. When their mutual friend informed her that he’d be attending this Island Block party, it was suddenly decided – she was going. She bought her ticket and went to join her friends in learning the lyrics of the songs.
Genevieve was finding it hard to keep up with how fast her friends were walking, her feet were basically dragging behind the rest of her upper body. However, it wasn’t long before she could faintly see the gates of the venue. It was like her mind gained clarity for a few solid seconds because she instantly spotted him. Her baby. The man she fell in love with, sight unseen. Nonso.
He stood closer to the gate, just across a narrow but deep gutter, in a white shirt and black pants. He appeared to be searching for her face in the sea of people around them, so she waved her free arm to draw his attention. The recognition sparked in his eyes, and he smiled, in turn, lighting her own face up, she smiled too. She reached out to him, her ultimate fantasy, but felt herself quickly being yanked back. Her friend who had now tightened her grip on her arm was evidently worried that Genevieve was being snatched by a stranger. Unable to form a coherent sentence, Genevieve mumbled.
“He’s the one.”
When her friend let go, she reached her hands back out to him across the gutter, and he helped her get to the other side. She could feel him staring intensely at her even though she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes, eye contact had always been a problem for her. She whispered a hi to him which he returned. The panic she felt before was replaced by warmth and an extraordinary sense of safety when he took her hand and linked their fingers. He guided her softly with his arms and his words, occasionally throwing a watch your step or be careful her way because of how prone to stumbling she was right then. He found her a space to sit and made sure she was comfortable. Genevieve bobbed her head to the music with her eyes closed, trying her hardest to centre herself. She needed his arms around her waist.
“Are you good?”
Her eyes flew open, and he was squatting right in front of her, at eye-level, maintaining eye contact. The concern on his face was so apparent that she wondered how someone whom she’d just met after two months of texting could have the worry of a bothered husband looking after his wife etched into his features. She took short mental pictures of his face then, under the coloured lights with the loud afro beats bursting out of the speakers next to them. His smooth-shaven face sprinkled with freckles and his eyes continued staring intently at her. She smiled and nodded in response to his question – she was good. More than good even. They had made it to the Festival of Lights.
When he finally asked her to be his girlfriend much later that night as they danced, with her arms wrapped around his neck, she knew she had no choice but to say yes. 3 years into their story and she’s still glad she made the decisions she did that night.
