Picture This

I met Frank after one rigorous general ‘cds’ meeting; everything in this country resembles struggle. We were to line up according to our code numbers to sign the attendance register, and trust us Nigerian youths who aren’t lazy, the hall which seconds ago was as serene as a cemetery as no one wanted to be the Inspector’s scapegoat that morning, had become a war zone for the survival of the fittest, soldiers kitted in green and white.

With my face in one guy’s armpit, I was just thankful I had forgone makeup that morning. Still on that thought, a strong hand pulled me from nowhere and in the next minute I was at the head of the queue, my senses cleared to see my armpit guy beaming down at me. How come I hadn’t noticed he was so fine!

That was how Frank and I became friends, we were literally inseparable. I who at meetings was usually quiet, found it hard to suppress and swallow giggles whenever he teased the inspector. I had finally clicked with someone. We progressed, slowly and assuredly, it wasn’t one of those fast, undefined, and uncomfortable relationships. He knew who he wanted, and was ready to go all the way for me, men who wooed and courted still exist? I was awed, and in love.

Frank’s house was no strange land to me, in fact, I resumed there at the close of work almost every day. As usual, we gisted freely, sharing secrets, and bonding. I let down all guard and started to remove my wig and jacket when it got hot. I was home.

Even though we had made out several times, I would never have been prepared for that night. It took me a while to let Frank know I was a virgin, I felt a bit inadequate and didn’t want to seem naive. A couple of weeks ago, the make out session had gotten intense, and I stopped him by barely audibly saying I was a virgin, his reaction was shock, laughter and disbelief, in that order. He kept on saying I was lying and just didn’t want to sleep with him. Was I doubting his love? He still questioned. No! I screamed, I’ve just never been with anyone before.

He let it go that time, but not tonight. I had resumed at his house after work as usual, he seemed in a good mood, the episode of a few weeks ago had put a little strain on our relationship. Frank cooked, which was highly unusual, I couldn’t stop laughing at his poor effort. While laughing, I almost choked on a swallow and asked for water, still teasing him on being a bad host, serving only drink, no water. He cajoled me to have the drink instead, that it would open up my taste buds and enjoy the food. Now that I think back, his tone had a hint of impatience in it.

The next thing I remember was movement and blinding pain. Frank had me pinned to the bed, and was going strong. It took me nanoseconds to comprehend, I could only weep. A tear must have touched his shoulder, because he stopped, looked at my face, got off me and began to console me. Saying he loved me and didn’t know how else to convince me but it was all fine now, and he was sorry, he still loved me. With the sheets haphazardly wrapped around me, I sat up and began to weep and wail. What nightmare was this? Who would understand? His neighbours would testify against me that I was in his house almost every day. We surely had been intimate frequently. Or how will a man and woman stay that long together and ‘hold body?’ Isn’t he her boyfriend? Cases and loop holes kept ringing in my head, and I wept more.

I had just added to the statistics by been defiled by someone whom I thought understood and would wait for me. I continued to weep for my torn pride and at the hopelessness of the situation.

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