Chidinma’s first kiss was from her sister.

It held no innocence in it, only the darkness that stemmed from wanting to try out the things they’d watched on the Telemundo show their mother loved to watch and would lock them out of the sitting room to do so. It wasn’t often that she recalled that memory. It was one of the many her brain did its best to hide from her, but on the days she remembered it, she would curl under her blanket, under the bed, or behind the chair, and stay frozen as she fought against the wave of despair threatening to overwhelm her being.

Her clearest memory of the “event” (the only one she knew of with her sister in it) set both girls on the big bed they shared with their younger sibling. Chidinma still as a rock and Helena whispering slightly useless words of reassurance to her younger sister, her hands roaming her young body, “Just let me try it, it’s not painful.” It was painful, more pain than pleasure although she didn’t know if she had even been expecting pleasure, she’d only been a child. Her privates were on fire as soon as her sister was done touching her, like she’d done so with hands that had been previously marinated in pepper, atarodo to be exact. The image of her sister holding her and blocking her path to the door that led to her mother was one that caused shivers to run down her spine, between her legs were on fire and she was in tears.

Helena’s arms were around her and tears ran freely down her face as she begged her naive sister to stop calling for their mother, “Mummy will kill me. Chidinma, please wait, the pain will go away soon.” Her sister’s pleading hands led her back to the bedroom and to their bed where she laid down and closed her eyes. She had no recollection of the previous night the next morning, Chidinma still wasn’t sure if that might have been a good thing then. She wondered, had she succeeded in getting past her sister and telling her mother what they’d done, what would have been the aftermath of such a disaster?

 

Chidinma sat rigidly in her therapist’s office, her body angled forward, yet her gaze refused to meet the gentle probing of Dr Eugenia. Instead, her eyes plummeted downwards, as if drawn by an unseen force, to the trembling hands clasped tightly in her lap. The stark fluorescent light above cast an unforgiving glare on her fingers, making them appear fragile, like delicate petals shaken by an invisible breeze. Her hands trembled with a life of their own, betraying the turmoil that churned beneath her composed exterior. Her nails, recently trimmed and painted a soft pink, seemed to glow with a soft vulnerability, like the first blush of dawn. As she stared, transfixed, her fingers intertwined and separated, only to intertwine again, in a restless dance of anxiety.

The hard chair creaked softly beneath her, a subtle reminder of the discomfort that had led her to this sacred space. “How do you feel?” Dr Eugenia’s warm voice brought her back to the present, her memories of Helena’s hands fading slowly as she blinked her warm brown eyes, careful to blink away her tears too.
“How do I feel? Okay, I guess?” She gave the least untruthful response she could
“Okay.”
There was a breath of silence.
“I don’t know how I feel,” she confessed truthfully, she did not know what to feel.
“Do you still talk to your sister?”
“Yes, I do,” that was a lie, she hadn’t seen or spoken to her sister in five years.
“Have you ever talked to her about this?”
“What do you think, doctor?” this question came with a tilt of Chidinma head, almost like she really sought an answer to her question.
“I think you’re lying, Chi,” Chidinma eyes snapped up, her gaze piercing as she locked onto Eugenia’s calm face. The woman’s words, laced with warmth and familiarity, had unwittingly unleashed a maelstrom within her. Chi, Eugenia had called her, the nickname slipping effortlessly from her lips. But only one person had ever called Chidinma “Chi.” Her father.

Six years of carefully constructed walls crumbled in an instant. The memories Chidinma had worked tirelessly to keep at bay came flooding back – the scent of her father’s cologne, the deep rumble of his laughter, the softness of his eyes. A spark of defensive anger ignited within her, fueled by the sense of vulnerability Eugenia’s words had exposed. Chidinma voice dripped with icy precision, “Don’t call me that.”
Eugenia’s eyebrows arched, concern etched on her features, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–”
“But you did.”

Eugenia felt stupid in that moment, where had the nickname even come from? It wasn’t like her to call her patients by sobriquets unless they asked her to and Chidinma had definitely not asked her to. She was successfully fucking this session up. Sparing a glance at the time on her watch, she leaned back into her chair and sighed, “I am sorry, Chidinma.” She didn’t get a reply, she hadn’t been expecting one. Chidinma’s expression remained cold, her hands now grabbing on the strap of the shoulder bag she’d brought with her. A clear indication that their session was over, she was done talking. “I understand, see you next Tuesday.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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