WHORE Of BABYLON (Episode 19)

WRITER’S NOTE: At first it was life and the various ways it can fling one around that caused the protracted hiatus of this series. And then, over time, I began to lose the essence of the character Sizikora and I felt no one would notice.

But Pink Panther was there to remind me, over and over, at various intervals that he hasn’t forgotten, and a whole lot of other people haven’t as well (what with the messages he kept on getting). And so, I thought to myself that the gay gods will be most displeased if I do not continue the series and at least, bring it to a ripe finish.

So yeah, here we are! Back on the wavy, drama-filled life of our daring protagonist, Sizikora! Hopefully, he won’t be gone for so long again.

And thanks to all those who kept asking. Your inquisitions lit the fire I needed to get back here.

We are back and better!

I hope.

To catch up on previous episodes of Whore of Babylon, click HERE.

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EPISODE 19

The normal sitting arrangement should have been Jide at the steering, me at his side and Kenny behind, but with the sizzling tension between Jide and me, Kenny graciously offers to sit in front with him; something about us not being allowed to cause his untimely death.

The Drama Queen.

We are headed towards Uwani where Jide’s uncle – and Kenny’s boyfriend, as I had earlier found out – resides, and a lot of thoughts are rioting inside me.

Jide’s uncle. Kenny’s boyfriend.

Hian!

Kenny had always, from the start, been sure of who he wants in his life as regards a relationship partner: the older and the rich.

“Easier to please, quicker to spend on you, and fast cummers; what more can a bitch want, duhling?” he would always say to me with an exaggerated affectation whenever I turned up my nose at a new catch of his.

Funny enough, his love life has always been stable. His last relationship lasted three years. That is the duration of all my sexcapades and some, if you’re counting in minutes.

Not like I care anyway. We have always made independent choices that we are fine with.

Only now, I’m not so sure I’m fine with mine anymore.

Ugh!

That brings me to Jide.

The sonafabitch had the temerity to call me a slut seconds after blasting a nut, forgetting completely that it takes two? The convenience of it all! And what was with his remorseful countenance, like he needed to say more? Why the facade? How dare he act all hurt and confused at the park after I lashed out – and rightly so – at him?

How dare he–

“Is no one going to tell me exactly why it feels like I am in a moving mortuary?” Kenny’s words slice through my thoughts and jolt me back to reality.

I look at my friend in time to see his hands rise and fall in a dramatic display of exhaustion, then turn my head back to the window to stare into the evening, watching figures thin out as the car zooms past them.

“I have been asking this for like the hundredth time since we started this boring journey and not a response,” Kenny says. “I am starting feel like a talking pathogen.” He turns on his seat to look back at me. “Sizi?”

I snap my head back in his direction. “Kenny, he’s seated beside you. I’d think that would make for easier communication.”

I can feel Jide’s eyes bore into me from the centre mirror and I make a deliberate effort not to meet them. I am not even in that mood.

Kenny’s stare is still centred on me. “And yet, I chose to ask you instead. I don’t want the one I’ll ask and he’ll throw us into a stationary vehicle abeg.”

I hear someone let out a spurt of laughter and roll my eyes.

Kenny glares at me and I can feel his eyes shout: Bitch at me.

“Fine!” I say resignedly and sit up a bit. “But first, sit down well and face front biko. It looks like you’re about to chew my face off and that doesn’t help with thought-gathering.”

Kenny sighs and with a shake of his head, adjusts his sitting position. “Now get on with it, Princess!”

“Jide called me a slut.”

“I did not call you a slut, Sizi!” Jide immediately explodes, as though he had already peeked into the future and seen that this is what I would say.

I stiffen and wait for the rage to pass, and then I say a silent prayer of gratitude to Kenny as he steps in.

“You know, Jide,” he says coolly to the man seated beside him, “you had your chance. Let Sizi speak.”

A tense moment of silence passes, before I kiss my teeth and then move to the center of the back seat so that I am between Jide and Kenny. And I lean forward. “You know what, let him talk, Ken.” I turn to Jide. “You didn’t call me a slut? So we’re adding lies to your list of your vices now, are we? Not impressive, if I should say so myself.”

“Sizi,” his voice is low, so low that if I am not seated where I am, I probably would not have heard. It takes a great deal of restraint to keep me from checking to see that he isn’t crying. “You never let me finish.”

“Oh great then!” Kenny’s voice had taken an exuberant tone. I can tell it’s forced, the dramatic tone intended to lighten the tension sitting heavily in the car. “So there was not even a finish, and yet all this fight? Ah nawa o. Oya, please finish, my dear.”

I move back to my former position and keep my gaze fixed to the window, hoping the blanket of nonchalance I’ve wrapped myself in is visible enough for them to see.

I didn’t let him finish? Finish gini? What’s he finishing? But he finished cumming okwaya?

Oshey, author and finisher of our faith!

Mtcheeew!

“Talk na, Jide!” I hear Kenny heave with some exasperation.

I am trying so hard to shut them out, but my attention is piqued when I hear Jide’s response.

“I want Sizi to at least act like he’s interested in what I have to say.”

Inukwa the impetus!

Well, hell no! I refuse to indulge your annoying, lying ass. If you won’t talk, your business!

I lift my legs up on the seat and turn full-body toward the window, so that it’s not just my head facing it.

That should show him interest. Scallywag!

I hear Kenny sigh in absolute exhaustion at my display and I battle the fierce urge to laugh. My belly is quivering with mirth but my lips remain sealed.

Kenny love, I’m so sorry I’m putting you through this, but this guy shall not have it easy.

“Jide, just say what you have to say. That’s the highest interest you’ll get out of Ikem tonight,” Kenny says; all the light is out of his voice and I am almost moved to give in, to be a little more cooperative, just for his sake. Instead, I stiffen my spine and keep looking out of the window.

He only calls me Ikem when he’s serious but I will not be bothered. Kenny will be fine.

Meanwhile, this his boyfriend’s house is far sha o, I find myself thinking. This house should do and reach biko, let me be free from all this interrogation.

Jide clears his throat.

Attention-seeker, I roll my mind’s eye at him, yet aware that all my attention has been bought.

“I did call you a slut, Sizi, but I didn’t mean it that way.”

“How did you mean it?” Kenny butts in.

“Let him finish!”

“Let me finish!”

There is a sudden stillness, and my eyes almost pop out at the realization of what just happened, a rush of heat filling my head as I try to snatch back the words I’d just said the same time that Jide spoke. I also notice that the car has stopped moving, even though Jide’s hand is still on the steering, unmoving. He casts a glance at me through the centre mirror, but briefly, almost surreptitiously.

Kenny, however, is smiling. A small smile – that kind of smile that seeks to tease – is playing on his lips as his eyes dart from Jide to me repeatedly before he lets it all out. His outburst of laughter throws a cloak of mortification over me, and I swear under my breath.

“If that wasn’t cute!” he exclaims, still cackling. “What was that? The two of you ganging up against me and the simultaneous shushing? Ah! The quarrel has been settled then. You people are not even serious. All my mediation and this is what I get? A Romeo and Romeo spank?”

I finally remember that I have vocal cords. “Kenny, please shut up na.”

He resumes his laughing fit, throwing his head back as his body reverberates from the sheer force of his mirth.

Jide reignites the car. He isn’t even smiling.

For some reason, this makes me feel pleased. And for the first time, I think I might just believe what he has to say.

“Continue, Jide. I’m still listening,” I hear myself say.

Meanwhile, Kenny is now trying to somber up.

“I was going to say how I like this particular slut more than I should.” Jide’s voice has taken on an edgy tone, almost gloomy. “I know you sleep around for money and I’m not saying that to hurt you. I’m just saying what it is you know is the truth.”

I let his words hit me, warm my insides and dissipate.

The truth hurts. This is true.

“I know it was very likely the same for me, when you agreed to hook up with me.” He is still speaking. “We fuck and that would be it, nothing more for you. I mean, you propositioned it the minute we met, remember?”

I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. I shut it and mercifully, he is still talking.

“You don’t care what I feel because, well, that’s how it is with you. That’s what being a slut represents, isn’t it?”

I don’t think that deserves an answer, so I don’t give any. I keep looking out the window, but I am seeing nothing. Just his voice and the marks it’s inscribing in my heart; one scar for every word.

He stops, perhaps for effect. Then he continues, “Why were you insistent on knowing what I wanted to say after we got into the car?”

This doesn’t feel like a rhetorical question, and I can feel two sets of eyes on me. My intestines knot painfully and I start to feel what seems like the beginnings of a panic attack.

How do I tell this man, in the presence of my childhood friend that I care for him more than he thinks? More than he’s giving me credit for?

I am still searching for the words to use to get me out of this fix when the familiar ring of my phone cuts through the heavy air of anticipation.

With immense gratitude for the distraction, I reach into my sling bag for the phone, pull it out and without bothering to check who it is, I tap on the Answer Icon and hold it to my ear.

“Yeah, hello?”

“Hey, Ikem!”

The familiar richness of the voice hits me more than I’d have liked, and I find myself a little angered that this…he is the distraction. More so, that I’m pleased with it.

“It’s Mark,” he adds moments after apparently thinking I am silent because I don’t know who I’m on the phone with.

“I know it’s you, Mark.” In spite of me, I can hear the absolute lack of enthusiasm in my voice.

Only an expert in Psychology will know I am faking it.

Mark has been there since I can remember. His persistence, perseverance and stubbornness are all appealing qualities that although at one time repelled me, are fast endearing me to him. At least, I know I’m curious about him now.

Except I can’t stand his obstinate insistence on calling me Ikem.

It’s almost like a deliberate attempt of his to ignore the existence of my alter ego, Sizikora. This defiance I find insulting and – well, honestly and at a risk of sounding like I hit my head against a wall – a bit intriguing.

“I’m in Enugu. When can we meet?”

There is a hint of doubt in his voice and I can almost see him brace himself up for rejection.

I glance over at the front seat. Kenny is now on his phone, using the distraction of that to wait me out. I know him. He will not rest till we get to the root of the matter at hand.

Jide has just taken the next turn and drives into an interlocked street with a gigantic gate a few feet away. Then he turns off the ignition. I see a large house looming ahead, almost spooky with its undulating roof and so many illuminated windows that I find myself wondering just how many rooms form a part of this edifice.

I suddenly don’t feel like I want to stay in this place for too long. Kenny may favour moneyed older men, with their deep pockets and tolerable expectations. But I want more. Something more vital, more youthful.

As Jide signals for us to come down, my resolve for more strengthens.

But with whom?

A slideshow of faces flashes through my mind.

Jide.

Mark.

Bryan.

And then, I find myself saying into the phone: “Yes, we can. How about tomorrow?”

Written by Delle