Shola’s eyes gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows of her opulent living room, her mind a million miles away. The Lagos skyline, once a symbol of her success and freedom, now seemed dull and uninviting. Her thoughts were consumed by the toxic relationship she had finally escaped.
Her ex-partner, Titi, had been a master manipulator, using guilt, anger, and self-pity to control Shola. The relationship had started out passionately, but over time, Titi’s behavior had become increasingly possessive and suffocating. Shola had tried to leave several times, but Titi’s tears, threats, and promises to change had kept her trapped.
But the final straw had come when Titi had publicly humiliated Shola at a high-society event, berating her in front of their friends and acquaintances. Shola had realized that she deserved better, and with the support of her loved ones, she had finally found the strength to walk away.
As she stood there, lost in thought, Shola’s phone buzzed with an incoming text from her best friend, Bisola, who had just gotten married to her heartthrob and high school sweetheart, Francisca. “Hey, girl! Just checking on you to ensure you’re okay,” Bisola greeted.
Shola giggled, saying, “Don’t worry, I’m not hurting myself anytime soon. Can’t wait to be a godparent!” Bisola laughed at the other end. “We’re coming in today for Casey’s birthday. Hope you haven’t forgotten?” Shola reluctantly replied, “Oh yeah, I’ll be there.”
Shola gathered herself and set out for her office, determined to be better for herself. As she rode down the elevator from her apartment, her phone rang. Looking at the caller, she saw it was her mother. Hesitating for a bit, she took the call with a “Hello, Mum. Ekaro, Ma.”
Her mum, noticing her tone, giggled and spoke on, not letting Shola’s tone hinder her. “You know that witch freeing you from her juju is a good thing, oo. At least now you can be a real girl again, and a man can find you. You see, my pastor was right. I know it was just a phase. Ameee.”
Shola was done. She didn’t let her finish, hurriedly saying, “Mummy, ooo, I’m in a hurry, ooo. I’m already late. Take care.” Without another word, she ended the call, straightened her suit, and prepared for another productive day at the office. “Let’s go make some millions to wipe those tears, Shola,” she said to herself.
Meanwhile, in another part of Lagos, Mezino sat on his couch, staring blankly at the TV as it droned on in the background. His mind was still reeling from the breakup with his ex-partner, Femi.
Femi had been Mezino’s first love, and he had thought their relationship was solid. But Femi’s family had never accepted Mezino, and the constant pressure and criticism had eventually taken its toll. Femi had cheated on Mezino, citing that he needed someone more “masculine” and “confident.”
The breakup had left Mezino shattered, his self-esteem in tatters. He had struggled to come to terms with his femininity, feeling like he wasn’t “man enough” for Femi or anyone else. But as he sat there, feeling sorry for himself, Mezino was brought back to reality with the screaming voice of his father: “Watch all these woman wrappers elsewhere, not in my house!”
He jolted to his feet, changing the channel from Channel E! to the Sports Channel. “Welcome, Daddy. Good afternoon, sir,” he greeted.
“What’s good afternoon?” his father bellowed. “The only thing good about you was your intelligence, but even that, your gay sickness will not allow you to use it to hold a job. Get out!” Mezino’s father shouted.
In sadness, holding back his tears, Mezino went outside to the back. He had made the terrible mistake of coming out to his parents, thinking he would move out and move in with Femi, especially since he was sure of getting his job at Zenith Bank, having been the best candidate. But Femi broke up with him the next day, when Mezino was still unable to secure the job, obviously because the branch manager was not okay with his femininity.
His mum, passing him, rubbed his back, consoling him, and said, “Your father wants only what’s best for you, dear.” With that, Mezino walked out of the compound, tears running down his cheeks.
Mezi, as his friends called him, was just outside his compound when his phone rang. It was an unknown number. As a job applicant, he assumed it was from one of his applications, so he rushed to answer, making his voice as masculine as possible. “Hello, good morning!” he said in a deep, thick tone.
However, instead of a potential employer, he was met with thunderous laughter. “My sister, rest! No be market, jor! What’s with the forced masculinity? It’s me, Lawrence. My phone had network issues, so I decided to call you with my new bobo’s phone. Don’t save the number, oo!”
Mezi was irritated but glad to have some distraction from his misery. He responded with a hint of sarcasm, “You useless girl! Long time! How have you been?”
Lawrence went straight to the reason for his call. “Dear, today one big Lola is having her birthday – the one I told you about. It’s strictly by IV, but the good news is my new bobo is the celebrity DJ, so we have tickets in. Don’t say no, oo! You know you need to network, and these girls are loaded and connected. It’s a white party, o! Dress to kill! Some hot shots might be there too. You fit get luck, replace Femi!”
Before Mezi could respond, Lawrence said, “I’ll pick you up at 7:00 p.m.” and ended the call.
To be continued…
By Bmax