Fragments of the past
Lekan
Hours and hours pass, I toss and turn in bed trying to figure out why I cannot sleep. I am restless, my head feels heavy, but I cannot seem to figure out what I am thinking. Sometimes life just hits you for no reason, and on nights like this, I would be working, coding, monitoring the market, doing research or reading. I hardly find time to watch the TV, hardly scroll TikTok, but when I do, I am on the STEM side of it. I stare at the journal beside my head. I had tried to journal when I got back to the room, but I could not seem to think of anything.
To be honest, the card exercise we did earlier did not provoke any thought within me. I just wrote random things, but deep down, I knew there was something missing. I have been single for five years, and the fact that once in a while she still slips into my mind makes me know I am sensitive. Or maybe it is because I have not had any woman after Helen. I just could not take it, the fact that every woman just seemed to want me for my money. They throw themselves at me like bras at Rema at the O2 arena.
I let out a sigh. I try a breathing exercise, inhaling and exhaling slowly, counting the breaths I take, hoping that will calm me down, but it does not help. So I stand up, throw on my slides, and make my way out of my villa. I see a few people walking in pairs, some seem to be kissing even. I hasten past them as I head to the garden to sit and clear my mind. The air is cold. I hug my jacket tighter, hoping something can distract me and calm my nerves tonight.
I wonder if Moni will be sleeping by now or also tossing and turning. I wonder what she wrote in her card, I wonder what went through her mind, I wonder what she realized. I realize on my part that I do not actually hate her. I let myself get burned for her. The last time I made sacrifices for someone who was not my sister was Helen, and this girl treats me like I do not exist. But tonight, tonight she seemed a little different, not as cold as she used to be. I wonder what she was trying to say when I left her, but I do not exactly care. Or do I? Now that I think of it? That thought sends me into this spiral. I should have waited. I should have heard her out. She acts all defiant and nonchalant, but behind her eyes are tears waiting to be let out. Pain that she wants to talk about. Hurt that seems to have rocked her beyond her expectations. Who could have hurt her like that?
I just wish I could see her tonight, but what are the odds?
"Lekan?" A female voice calls out, and I turn almost immediately, only to be disappointed by a petite lady who seems to be in her late twenties. She has wavy long weaves on, a short petticoat, socks, furry slippers and a muffler.
"Yes?" I respond, hoping my disappointment is not apparent in my voice.
"Are you waiting for someone?" she asks.
"No."
"So, you're alone?"
"Yes?" I ask, wondering what she is driving at. She seems excited to learn that I am alone.
"Can I join you?" she asks. I hesitate.
"Sure," I respond.
She falls into pace beside me. We are quiet for a moment before she speaks up.
"I am Tade."
"Nice to know."
"I... um, I've been trying to get your attention for a while now, but you seem to always be fixated on Moni."
"I don't know what you are talking about," I respond when she mentions Moni.
"For real? All the campers have switched partners at least twice. You two haven't even switched once, or tried to?"
"Really? Johnson says that's impossible."
"No. It's not. I have switched partners twice. I still haven't found a partner that gets me. I have a feeling you might," she says.
"Mmm," I respond. Moni will be so happy to hear this. She will not have to face the guy she does not like every day. I might do her the favor and just accept this offer.
"I know you need someone who respects you the way you deserve. Moni definitely doesn't. She's too broken to even care about any man right now." There it is, the news I have been trying to hear. So I urge her on.
"Too broken?" I ask.
"You don't know what happened with her?" she asks in shock.
"I am not exactly a social media person. I have heard she is a big shot of some sort, but we never talk about anything."
"She had her seventh anniversary last week. Her fiancé literally had sex with the lady who performed at the anniversary. Someone made a video of the whole thing. He said really hurtful things. He literally implied she's not good in bed," she scoffs like that makes her happy and she wants me to hear it clearly.
"It became a big thing. People started to make edits and memes about the entire thing. It hasn't even been seven days. It is so recent." She scoffs again, but I barely hear that. What sort of man dates a woman like Moni and still cheats? At their anniversary? What a sex maniac. No discipline. How did she fall for a man like that?
No wonder she is so bitter, so rude, so standoffish and nonchalant. What kind of man does that to a woman he loves?
"So, will you pair with me tomorrow?" she asks again, but with the conversation we have had, she does not seem like a good person.
"I don't think I want to," I say curtly.
"Okay," she says, but does not back off.
"So, what's your story?" she asks me.
"I have none. What's yours?" I ask, and as if she was waiting for me to ask, she jumps into her story.
"I dated the same guy for five years. I did all I could to make him happy, I..." she goes on and on about something that does not exactly require her being here, because she pretty much hurt the guy. But this is her process anyway.
My thoughts could not help but wander to Moni at that yoga session with her eyes red. Seven years is a lot to be hurt like that. And were there no signs?
Did no one see it coming?
I sit there, half-listening, half-lost in thought. And somewhere in that space between distraction and silence, I realize something.
Moni is not cold. She is bleeding.
And somehow, I want to know where it hurts.