Those Awkward Moments: Episode 24 (Christmas Special)

Harmattan in Lagos wasn’t as pronounced as it was in other less populated urbanities in Nigeria. But that morning, I woke up shivering from the icy weather that had descended on the city the night before. It was 8am. I’d been dead to the world the moment I dropped my head on the pillow and stretched out on my couch.

And now, I was tiptoeing my way to the bedroom where Mother was ensconced in, shuddering under a blanket and clutching a wrapped package I’d tucked out of sight behind the couch when I got home yesterday evening. I hummed ‘Jingle Bells’ on my way to surprise Mother.

I got to the door, pulled it open and –

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

Four females screamed at me, startling me so much my package slipped from my grasp and I staggered backward, nearly tripping over the trailing end of my blanket.

My mother and three sisters were in various postures in the room – the perfect Christmas surprise for me.

***

“Seriously, how were you guys able to get into my house and I didn’t know?” I said, staring with a mix of pleasure and lingering surprise at my siblings as we filled out inside the living room. “When did you even get in?”

“We came this morning, around 7am,” Nkechi replied. She was the youngest of my sisters and my immediate older one. Clad hip-hugging snug jeans and a high-necked, long-sleeved white jersey, she sauntered slowly about the living room, inspecting this and checking out that. This was her first time in my house. “And with the way you were snoring away, it won’t come as a surprise when we begin to see headlines of you which say: Nigerian man carried off in his sleep by aliens.”

“I do not snore!” I said, feeling affronted.

“No, you don’t. But you sleep very, very deeply.” Her tone was a bit caustic, and I gave her a ‘What is pinching you’ look.

“Kevin, don’t mind her,” Esther chipped in as she walked out of the kitchen where she’d gone into a few moments ago along with Mother and Amaka. She held a cup of something steaming in hands whose wrists were encircled with several bangles, and her floor-length muumuu trailed the ground behind her. She was the middle sister. “She’s just mad that she’s not spending Christmas with her boyfriend?”

“Why? Is Kevin the contractor too busy for felicitations?”

“Look at you. Kevin the contractor is yesterday’s news. I’m talking about Ossei, the Ghanaian.”

“Isn’t this like the third boyfriend she’s having this year?”

“No, the fourth. There was Luke the hotelier who she dumped in April for –”

“Jide from Mobil, that’s right,” I finished.

Esther and I sniggered. Nkechi’s varied love life could put Jennifer Lopez to shame.

“You two do realize I’m right here, right?” Nkechi said archly.

“Yes, we do. We see you looking ever so grumpy. You know you didn’t have to come over and spend the day here, right?”

“When Mum personally calls and attempts to arrange for all of us to spend Christmas together, you don’t say no,” she returned. “It doesn’t help that she played the ‘But you know your brother got robbed’ card.”

“That’s true sef,” Esther said as she set her cup down on a stool. “Speaking of getting robbed, how exactly did that manage to happen?”

“Long story, sis,” I sighed.

“I’ve got time.”

“Well, that was how I was chilling with my friend oh, when I heard a knock on the door…”

“Ehen?” she urged, her eyes sparkling with sudden excitement.

I eyed her warily, before continuing. “The knock made me wonder why the person didn’t just ring the bell. And I guess my irritation made me less cautious, so much so I didn’t even check through the peephole first. I just went and opened the door, and…”

I stopped. I’d just noticed a tiny dot of light blinking at me from underneath layers of her muumuu fabric.

“Wait a minute, Esther!” I exclaimed. “Are you recording this?”

“No!” she denied at once. “Why would you ask me that?” Her affront was so obviously feigned; she wasn’t a very good actress.

“Because he knows you, because we all know you,” Nkechi said, as she walked over to her and reached toward her thigh. There was a bit of a scuffle between them, and a few moments later, Nkechi pushed away from her, brandishing a recording device.

“Oh you slimy blogger!” I heaved with a laugh. “I can’t believe you just wanted to make me one of your blog stories.”

“Really? You can’t believe it?” Nkechi said sneeringly. “After she used my breakup from Jide as the focal point of her post on Nigerian relationships, you are surprised?”

“Hey, I resent your implication that I will do anything for a story,” Esther protested.

“And you won’t?” Nkechi and I said in unison, raising our brows at her.

She grinned. “Of course I would. But I’m the only person allowed to say that about me.”

A burst of laughter broke out amongst us.

“Okay!” Mother interrupted as she and Amaka filed out of the kitchen, both of them handling trays with plates of food and drinks arranged on them. “It’s breakfast time!”

***

“I’ve never liked that Janet,” Nkechi spat in the course of Mother’s narration of the events she was familiar with surrounding Jude’s situation. She had just talked about the part where Janet blamed me for the robbers’ assault on Jude. “She’s always so uppity, acting like she’s better than the rest of us. It’s not like she can even hold down a marriage long enough to make us forget what the wedding reception was like.”

A fit of snickers broke out over the table. I found myself shaking with amusement. Oh God, how I’d missed Nkechi’s sharp tongue. The woman could make Joan Rivers cede the head chair of the Fashion Police team to her, were the comedienne still alive.

“But wait oh,” Amaka spoke up. “What was Jude even doing here that day?”

Mother began to pay too much attention to the milk she was stirring into her cup of tea, ignoring the question Amaka had directed to her. Evidently, the woman still was only just comfortable conversing about my sexuality with me.

“He came to collect something,” I answered breezily.

“And the something is?”

“Not crucial to this gist,” I retorted.

The three young women began to laugh. Clearly, they had their own opinion of what Jude and I had been getting on with before the robbers came calling, and it was probably close to the truth.

My sisters had been the first in the family to find out about my sexuality, and had never once judged. Throughout those years when Mother waged a war against me over the matter, the three of them had formed a consoling stalwart behind me.

Before long, breakfast was over, and after the dishes were put away, we settled in the living room.

It was time to exchange gifts.

Mother got each of us envelopes with two-for-one tickets to Paris in them.

Amaka got everyone wristwatches.

Esther passed around copies of the book, What To Expect When You’re Expecting. “Because mum is expecting, we should all know what to expect,” she said with an unabashed grin.

And Nkechi topped off the surprise when she handed us all envelopes with dollar bills in them.

“Oh wow!” Amaka exclaimed softly as she counted the notes and paused to mentally convert the bills to naira. “Now this is what I call a present!”

“Sweetheart, where did you get all this money from?” Mother said as she peered into her envelope.

“Did you strike it rich with the Ghanaian?” Esther said, grinning.

“No. I got a really lucrative gig as an escort,” Nkechi deadpanned.

For a full three seconds, we stared aghast at her.

“Oh my God, you guys are so easy!” she burst out with a laugh. “I’m not a prostitute o biko!”

The sighs of relief were palpable.

“Look at this girl wants to give me a heartache before my child is born,” Mother gasped, clutching at her chest.

I chuckled. “So tell us nau. What gives?”

“I won a lottery,” she announced.

And after a beat, during which we assimilated her news, the room erupted in screams of delight.

It was several minutes before we calmed down from our loud excitement. I was overawed by the thought that my sister was now, for all intents and purposes, a rich woman, and could get even richer with the right investments.

And then, Amaka turned to say the words I’d been dreading. “Okay, Kevin, it’s your turn. What did you get for us?”

F*CK! F*CK! F*CK! I swore silently. I hadn’t known I would meet my sisters during this period, and had not thought of getting them any presents. The only box I’d wrapped was for Mother, inside which was a fine china figurine.

I opened my mouth, ready to – I didn’t know what I was about to say. But whatever it was remained forever unsaid, as the doorbell rang out in that same moment.

Talk about getting saved by the bell.

“Just a moment,” I said, before getting quickly to my feet and going to the door. Please, dear God, let whoever this is at the door be a lasting source of distraction.

“Check who it is first o!” Esther said. “I just got myself a Blackberry Passport. The last thing I want is to dash it out to your friendly neigbbourhood armed robbers.”

I chuckled as I looked through the peephole. I couldn’t make out who the person standing on the other side was. He was standing too close to the door for me to get a look at the face. I proceeded to open the door just a crack, and my jaw dropped when I saw him.

“Oh my God!” I gasped. “You came!”

“Of course I came. Merry Christmas, son,” my father said to me.

“Merry Christmas, dad,” I enthused, before throwing the door open.

***

It was about thirty minutes later that I stepped out of my house, all set to myself a very merry Christmas out in town. My sisters had left earlier to do some holidaying themselves. I shut the door against the rumble of my parents’ tensed voices. The volume of their conversation had been cresting and crashing, characterized at times with infrequent bursts of expletives from Father and Mother’s outraged cries.

But at least they were still talking, I thought as I started out toward the compound gate. And that meant there was still a chance they would resolve this great mystery that was threatening their marriage. And hopefully, in time, they’d let their children in on what all the fuss was.

I felt very pleased with myself as I inhaled, feeling the dry rush of the Harmattan air go through my nose. Father’s visit hadn’t been a surprise to me. This had been my plan. I’d asked him to. He hadn’t wanted to at first, but I got him to capitulate when I played on his sense of responsibility by hammering on the fact that Mother was here, pregnant with his child and suffering through it all alone.

And now he was here. And if they got back together, that would be my Christmas gift to my family.

However, at the moment, I had someone to see.

***

I gaped at the compact duplex that stood sturdily at the end of the short graveled driveway, as the gateman let me into the compound through the pedestrian entrance of the gate. Lining the walls were well-pruned flower bushes and shrubs, whose explosion of colours didn’t seem affected by the Harmattan.

I was stunned and impressed. Every time Kuddus talked about his lodgments with his cousin, he gave off a vibe that he was struggling. And I got the impression that they were two men who were barely able to make it in some overpriced one-room apartment. I started realizing that that impression was flawed the further the taxi I’d chartered took me through the highbrow section of Surulere.

Perhaps they live in the Boys’ Quarters, I thought. But a quick look around didn’t reveal to me any adjoining structures to the building before me.

“I’m sorry,” I began, turning to the gateman who was coming up behind me, “I don’t know if I’m in the right place. The guy I’m looking for, his name is Kuddus –”

“Kevin!” the very familiar voice of my boyfriend called out.

I turned. He stood in the ground floor porch of the house, his bare torso looking bronzed in the early afternoon sun, and his three-quarter shorts hanging sexily around his lean hips. He spread out his arms to me and his smile broadened. “Welcome.”

***

“I had no idea you lived like a sheikh,” I gusted, still ogling my surrounding, as Kuddus approached me with a bottle of wine and some wine glasses.

The living room inside which we were lounging was tastefully furnished, with burnished wood furnishings, thick carpeting that stretched from wall to wall, and an electronic compartment that seemed to be an import straight from some Chinese electronics company. There was even a gigantic lava lamp positioned next to the plasma television hanging from the wall.

I was by no means a stranger to luxury, but my surprise stemmed from the fact that I hadn’t been prepared to see Kuddus living in this kind of plush set-up.

“Well, I’m not the sheikh here,” he said with a self-conscious laugh as he poured our drinks. “My cousin is.”

“He has got serious dough and very good taste,” I said, “because this place is beautiful.”

“Yea, money and taste, those two tend to go hand in hand,” Kuddus said wryly. “And I’ll be sure to pass on your compliments to him.”

“Where is he by the way?”

“He supposed to be in Abuja by now. He had a flight this morning scheduled to take him there for the holidays.”

Sipping from my glass, I got to my feet. “Did he make his money, or are his parents loaded? I’m willing to bet on the latter.”

“It’s both actually,” Kuddus said. “His family’s affluent, but he’s got a great career. He’s a –”

“Oh My God!” I exclaimed, unwittingly interrupting him. I swept over to one of the tables in the corner with a book on it. “This is your novel!” I said gleefully as I picked up the book. I’d spotted his name on the cover earlier, and seeing it up close now filled me with a rush of pride for him. “Oh wow, it looks great. Nice cover.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Kuddus said, a pleased expression on his face. “You’d be the first person to see it since my editor obtained it from the publishers.”

“Really?” I said, glancing at the title. “Those Awkward Moments.”

“Yea, you like?” He seemed anxious.

“I do. It’s a cool title. I love that the title isn’t one of those cliché names like ‘Through the wind’ or ‘As you lay your bed’.”

We both burst out into laughter, rocking so hard to our mirth that when I stepped forward, I slipped and pitched forward –

And into Kuddus’ arms. The forceful contact knocked the breath out of me. I grabbed his arms to steady myself, and I found myself appreciating the feel of his muscled arms. My heart started beating a fast tattoo as I looked up at his face.

His eyes were staring back into mine. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing to show his sudden tenseness. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, a motion that had my gaze fastening itself on the lips.

He had very sensual lips. How come I hadn’t noticed that before? I swallowed myself. I could not take my eyes off those lips.

“Kevin…” he croaked.

I didn’t let him finish. I moved upward and claimed those lips in a kiss.

A groan rumbled in the back of his throat, and a split second later, he was kissing me back, gathering me into chokehold as his lips slanted possessively over mine. I kissed him just as fiercely, my tongue plotting a hungry path into his mouth, sucking at the juiciness therein, meeting with his tongue and sparring with it as the kiss deepened.

A heady rush of pleasure coursed through me as we grasped at each other while standing right there in the middle of room; his book had earlier dropped from my hands, which were now busy savouring the feel of his naked upper body, while my legs trembled, struggling to hold me upright under the onslaught of my desire for him.

Then I broke the kiss and stepped away from his embrace.

“Kevin…” he gasped plaintively.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I husked reassuringly, before pushing him back, until he dropped into a couch.

I stood before him and began to unbutton my shirt slowly. He watched me with a frenzied stare, his eyes stabbing at me with an intensity that turned me on.

Then I dropped to my knees, inserted myself between his thighs and began unbuckling his belt, stroking the impressive bulge that strained against the fly.

He moaned at my touch.

“You like that?”

“Yes oh yes, Kev…”

As I began to tug at his shorts, he clamped his hands down on mine. A flicker of concern passed through his features as he said, “Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because this would be your first time.”

“I’m sure!” I said forcefully, more to myself than to him. An image of Jude had threatened my subconsciousness upon Kuddus’ enquiry. I’d made myself a promise that my first time would be with Jude.

But circumstances had changed. I was sure I wanted to do this with Kuddus.

“Yes, babe, I’m sure.” And I leaned forward to silence any further objections with a kiss.

His restraint melted away at the touch of my lips, and he ground his lips against mine and kissed me back. His hips angled upward when I reached for his hard-on through his shorts, kneading at the bulge and causing him to moan.

“Oh my God, Kevin, I want to fuck you so bad!” he mumbled against my mouth.

The declaration gave me such a high, and I tugged hard at the shorts. He shimmied to aid the process, and soon, his boxers were also out of the way. His erection sprang free into my eager hold, and when I grasped it, he groaned harshly.

Suddenly, he stilled. “Did you hear that?”

I was too consumed with desire to know what he was talking about. “Hear what?”

He waited, listening.

I didn’t listen. I simply bent over his crotch and took his penis inside my mouth. He let out a harsh breath and moved his hips upward, ramming his erection into my mouth.

My first blowjob! Wow! I thought as I began to move my head up and down over the lusciously hard tool.

“Oh my God, Kevin… Oh Jeezuz! Oh yes, shit…!” he panted as I slurped over his dick.

And then I heard something this time. I paused for a moment in my fellation to process the sound. It was that of footsteps, grinding down on the graveled driveway outside.

“Kuddus!” a male voice called out from outside.

“Oh My God! It’s my cousin!” Kuddus hissed, yanking his penis from my mouth and shoving me backward with an unintended force that had me falling back on the ground. “Shit! Kevin, I’m sorry!” He stretched a hand and pulled me to my feet as he stood.

“I thought you said he’s in Abuja,” I asked, as we snatched at our clothes and hastened to get dressed.

“He’s supposed to be,” Kuddus replied frantically. “Look, he can’t find you here. Isaac is only letting me stay here out of compassion. If he finds out I’m bringing guys over…”

And just like that, as if someone had used Thor’s hammer to smack me a heavy one over the head, I staggered to a halt. “Did you just say Isaac?”

Before Kuddus could answer, the front door was jerked open, the curtains drawn aside and a figure walked into the living room.

I saw him before he saw me, and I felt my extremities go cold.

“Kuddus,” he was saying as he dropped a valise and turned to pull the curtains back in place, “you left the front door open again –” The rest of his reprimand died an instant death when he turned and saw me right there in his living room, shirt half buttoned up and standing next to his cousin who had his belt in his hands.

“Kevin!” he choked out.

I had no idea who was more shocked, him or me.

“Hello, Isaac,” I replied, attempting a cold smile.

And just like that, I finally got my Christmas gift from the Universe.

Written by Reverend Hot