Hi Ominira

Her words hit his ears with warmth—it was the way his name rolled off her tongue. He smiled. He always wanted her to repeat his name whenever she said it, except at that moment, he was reading it as a text. But it didn’t matter. With her, all he needed to do was imagine her lips on his, tender and wet and tasting like the last meal she ate. He smiled at the thought of kissing her when his phone chimed from getting another text message. He was brought back to the present; seated at this desk inside his dimly lit bedroom, he read the rest of her message and gulped.

I hope you’re well

“Honestly, I’ve had better days,” he remembered saying to her over the phone once when they had one of their numerous FaceTime calls.
“Your eyes look puffy. Are you sleeping well?” she asked.
“I am,” he lied. In truth, he had been spending most of his night staying up late scouring the internet for jobs. It had been eight months since he lost his job at a digital marketing company. He tried to act like he wasn’t fazed by it, but his depleted savings and the piling bills said differently. His mental state was in shambles although he tried his best to smile for the camera whenever he spoke with her.
“You know you can tell me anything right?”
He flashed his practised smile. “I know, baby,” he sighed. “Truth be told, I haven’t been sleeping well because each night I’m awake wondering how God was able to rest after creating such a beauty like you.” She burst into laughter. He laughed too. He loved it when his over-the-top compliments made her face contort in delight.
“You’re not a serious person,” she said with a playful hiss.
“I am serious, babe, just negodu you na,” he tilted his head to the right, mimicking taking a closer look at her.

In the video, she had a black bonnet on her head and a black t-shirt. It was one of the days when she didn’t have to be in her classes. She had woken up a few hours before and was yet to have her bath; a fact that she inserted in their conversation to drive home the silliness of his compliment, “You know I haven’t had my bath right?”
“And yet it smells like roses and lilies here.”
She chuckled, “Your mouth ehn.”
“I’m just stating it as it is. You’re a goddess and I don’t think goddesses need baths except maybe an occasional dip in the fountain of youth.”
He watched her shake her head. “The things you say to me, if only, I could be half as vocal about my affection for you as you are for me.” There was a quiver in her voice. He wasn’t sure why but it caused a lump in his throat.

It was their ninth month as a couple and the fourth month since she moved to the UK for her master’s. The long-distance affair wasn’t his cup of tea but with her, he knew he could make things work. He reckoned she felt the same way.
“I know you’re trying to deflect from telling me what’s going on but I’ll keep asking.” He remembered her voice breaking into his thoughts. He smiled. “It’s not like that, babe.”
“It is though.”
“Honestly, I don’t want you to bother about me. I’m good. Some days are better than others and you know this. But my main concern is you. You’re alone over there and I know it’s not been easy finding your footing.”
He saw the sadness in her eyes. She looked away from the phone and sighed. “I appreciate you for always thinking about me. But you also have to think about yourself too.”
“But I am thinking about myself.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am. The other day I asked you to send me pictures of your cleavage, who do you think I was thinking about then?”
She burst into laughter, “See what I mean? You don’t want to talk about stuff and just find a way to make a joke out of it. It’s frustrating sometimes.” He sensed the growing frustration in her tone.

He hated having to deflect a lot but feared he didn’t have what it took to lay out his fears, bare. There was something about her he felt was fragile. He loved her enough to know she would be supportive of him but also understood just how much she too had to bear. “I know you sometimes think I can’t handle some shit, but I can,” her words hit him right where he was. “I know I have my issues. Heck, I once called you on the verge of suicide, crying and you were there for me. Maybe doing that was a mistake ’cause now you think I’m too fragile.” He gulped. He couldn’t say a word. She had hit the nail on the head.“If that’s the case,” she continued after a little pause, “I’m sorry I put that on you. I really am.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” she asked.
“Don’t apologize for sharing your most vulnerable moments with me. It’s those moments that make me love you more.” He saw the smile on her face. She sniffed and wiped a little tear from the corner of her eyes.
“If that’s true, why won’t you share your vulnerable moments with me?” The question hung above his head like a noose on that day. It was one he couldn’t find the answer to.

Ominira gulped as he was brought back to the present.

***

I’m gonna be honest with you, I am no longer interested in talking with you anymore

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked over the phone. Isis was at her desk inside her room. They were on a WhatsApp video call.
She smirked and turned to face him, “Did you?” It was a rhetorical question – or maybe she meant for it to be. But somehow, he tried to answer.
“I dunno. Sometimes I can act like a mumu, so I’m not sure,” he chuckled slightly.
She smirked again. She hated how much she wanted to spill her guts to him and tell him the truth. But the more she wanted that, the more she feared hearing herself say it might haunt her.

It was seven months since she moved to the UK for her studies and although she wasn’t initially a fan of the long distance, she kept an open mind. Or maybe she did so because he seemed enthused about it. There was a way he always sounded so excited over the phone when he talked to her that made her believe it was something worth pursuing. She had always known him to be sweet and sensitive and it was no surprise that the distance from the UK and Nigeria didn’t hinder that trait. When they weren’t FaceTiming, they were texting and even though he texted her more than she did him, he didn’t seem the least bothered about it, until the last two months.
“I know you’ve been busy with work and school but I just feel like a little reply to my message wouldn’t hurt.”
She sighed, “But I do reply.”
“After a week? Does that seem fair?” There was an awkward silence. She knew he could see her on the video call but she acted as though he couldn’t. She smirked. “I mean, you don’t have to text me back immediately but I think it’s not much to ask if you text at the end of your day just to say you saw my texts.” She could hear the slight emotion in his voice. “Look,” he went on, “I know I haven’t been at my best of late. The last couple of months have been tough. I’ve gone from one job rejection to the next and I’ve told you all about it. I hate that I’m in such a funk where I can’t be as positive about shit but you’re the one positive thing in my life I feel I can count on.” She heard him sigh through the phone. “I just want to be sure we are good and there’s nothing you’re not telling me.” She lifted her head from the phone and took a deep breath. She reckoned that this was as good as any moment to tell him the truth. Somehow, the words felt stuck to the roof of her tongue.

Indeed, she knew of his struggles with finding a job. She knew he wasn’t at his best either. One of the things she’d complained that he did less of at the start of the long-distance relationship was something he had begun to do more of – sharing his vulnerabilities. She found it endearing and it drew them closer. She remembered once when she’d called him and he didn’t pick up and then she’d gotten a voice message from him later. In the voice message, she could sense he’d been crying.
“If you’re listening to this,” the message had started, “just know that the teariness in my voice isn’t because I’ve been crying but because I just sliced onion,” he chuckled before diving into how tough he’s been having it the past week. Isis remembered listening to that voice message and shedding a tear. She replied to his message, encouraging him to stay hopeful. The next morning, she called and it was one of the best conversations they’d had. Fast forward a few weeks and he continued the pattern of being more vulnerable. She loved how much her words of encouragement seemed to bring relief to his eyes. It made her feel valued and important and, in some ways, she reckoned it made him feel seen and heard.

“Is there someone else?” His question had cut through Isis’ reminiscent thoughts, dragging her back to the moment.
“What?”
“Have you met someone else?” he repeated.
She looked into her phone and saw his eyes directly on hers. She wasn’t sure what to say. Or maybe she was but didn’t want to say it. “What if there is?” Her question didn’t come off as she’d hoped. She wanted to tease him but somehow forgot to skew the inflexion of her voice and hearing it echoed back to her due to a slight delay from the network, made her cringe. Her question sounded like admittance. She heard him sigh and saw him sink back into his living room sofa.
“Do you still love me?” his voice sounded soft and littered with pain. Isis gulped.

She thought back to the first time they met online. She thought back to their date at the restaurant Alice Garden in Ikeja GRA back in Nigeria. She thought back to her doubts about him but his reassurance and commitment to making her laugh. She recalled their many conversations through the phone and texts and how much he’d been there for her in his unselfish ways. She remembered the spark in his eyes whenever she sent him her pictures and his penchant for going on an adulation bender because of it. She remembered how a few months after moving to the UK she had slowly begun to drift away from him, unsure if it was the distance or if her affection for him had only been a mirage. But when he had asked her that question, she couldn’t help but admit the truth.

“I do,” she lied.

***

I am unsure what it is but I am just no longer feeling it and I don’t want to string you along.

Ominira woke up to her string of messages at five minutes past ten at night. It had been a long day for him. He had gone to the island for an interview and halfway through it, he was certain he wasn’t getting the job. He endured a heavy downpour of rain on his way back home. When he got home, he showered, found something to eat, and texted her, “Hey you, hope you’re good.” His messages to her these days were now some variation of that. He wasn’t sure what went wrong but knew he had to give her time to tell him about it. He never doubted his affection for her. In some ways, his affection intensified the more she grew distant. He made it a habit to text her about his day, every day, even when she rarely replied. Sometimes he got lucky and she replied almost immediately. Other times he got a perfunctory, “I’m good, how are you,” and then it was back to him texting the void. Ominira wasn’t sure why he kept up the charade but something about giving up on what they shared felt taboo. He loved her and he wanted to believe she loved him. Plus, he was old enough to know that life sometimes happens. Her studies were her priorities and he knew she needed all the time and space to thrive and figure out her shit.

He recalled once getting a message from her informing him of her semester exam results. “Oh, that’s amazing babe, I am so proud of you,” he texted back.
“Thanks, love. You always make my small achievement seem more than it is.”
He smiled and texted again, “Small achievement? Nah, this is huge. You did well despite juggling a stressful job and so much.”
He could almost see the smile on her face when she replied with a smiley face emoji.
“You’re amazing, Ominira. I love you.”

A tear fell from the corner of Ominira’s eyes as he was brought back to the present. He remembered that text fondly because it was the last time she told him she loved him. Despite once asking her outright if she did, even her admittance didn’t feel genuine. But he held on to hope. At some point, he suspected there was somebody else. He had asked but she had deflected with a question that he suspected she wanted to sound sarcastic but didn’t. But he knew better than to be jealous if there was someone else. He reckoned that all he could offer her from the distance was emotional comfort. He knew there were needs of hers he couldn’t meet physically or financially. Although she had never asked him for anything, on some days, he reckoned that a bouquet delivered to her dorm would have made her smile. Or a spa date after a long week would have come in handy. These gestures didn’t seem grand except that he didn’t have a penny to his name. As comforting as it was to think if he had the means he would be doing more for her, he knew wishes and daydreams rarely paid the bills or funded romance. He was a realist in a way. But the more he texted the void, the more he hoped his blissful ignorance would keep him sane. And in some ways, it did. Sometimes, he’d text her something funny and even though he didn’t get a reply, he’d imagine she read it and smiled. His subconscious filled in the blanks of her absence and unresponsiveness. But there was only so much his subconscious could do to shield him from the truth he was already aware of.

He read the message from her at six minutes after ten that night and sighed. It was the longest string of texts she’d sent to him in a month of him texting the void. It was the truth he knew but dreaded confronting.

Hi Ominira
I hope you’re well
I’m gonna be honest with you, I am no longer interested in talking with you anymore
I am unsure what it is but I am just no longer feeling it and I don’t want to string you along.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Roman Ska from Pexels