LABYRINTHS - FIFTEEN

When Isabelle pressed the bell, Rihanna came to answer the door... or someone that really looked like her... Everything except a little difference in height, maybe; and some negligible coarseness of skin and fibre – this being a tropical Rihanna. But then, since African blood was involved in this, this was a more voluptuous Rihanna. She was scantily clad – as might be usual with girls at home in the evenings – and everything was pouring out from all corners.

                “Thought I told you I’d be coming home with a friend,” Isabelle said to her, looking mean.

And I noticed that she wasn’t awed by this sight as I. No young man would see what I was seeing now and not drool. I wondered what women’s disposition to beauty was. Like... how would a woman react when she suddenly sees a goddess in her radiance? If a woman drooled at this sight, I’d understand.

Over time, my view on homosexuality had been changing. It used to be an outright condemnation, but not anymore. I now believed that no one chooses to be gay. It just happens. They’re born different. With their brains tilted leftwards, maybe. I refused to agree that a man would, in spite of the degree of beauty and magnetism of women, choose intimacy with fellow men. Lesbianism to me was understandable, for a woman might want to have a feel of beauty and sensuousness too – which, of course, only they possess and radiate... But a man and a man? This was terribly hard for me to excuse. Did it mean that if I was gay I wouldn’t now see this... Rihanna standing right here? The prominent breasts, the huge hips, the entire figure... I wouldn’t notice? Wouldn’t be moved? Wouldn’t feel the sudden change in temperature? Impossible! Even if I was blind....

I’d seen beautiful boys, but they’ll never be anything like this.

                When she turned and started to walk back inside, even Isabelle was moved by the way the hips swung, peeking out of the bum shorts Rihanna wore. Isabelle turned to see if I was watching. I might never know what she discovered; but I tried to pretend.

                “I thought you meant one of your girlfriends,” Rihanna said disinterestedly as she walked to what must be the bedroom, “how was I supposed to know you were talking about a guy?”

                “Please make yourself at home,” Isabelle said to me, ignoring her. Then she, too, went inside. I heard hushed tones, and thought there could easily be a war here tonight.

Isabelle came out and asked if I’d like to bathe first before I ate.

                “I’ll eat first... And then bathe... if it’s inevitable,” I replied. And she chuckled, knowing.

                Rihanna came out now, wearing a white T-shirt on long jogger pants.

                “What about your hair?” Isabelle almost barked at her.

She went back inside to fix her dishevelled hair... And later emerged, looking neater.  

                “Iroko meet my kid sister, Lillian, Lillian meet my friend, Iroko.”

So Rihanna’s name was Lillian!

                “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lillian,” I said, not moving to shake hands... or kiss her.

                “Same here,” she said in crisp voice, sweeter than the real Rihanna’s.

Her clothes now didn’t help matters really. I’d noticed that clothed women were more attractive... more alluring than nude ones. Once a woman’s clothes gave out clues as to what lay beneath, it aroused the senses more; but a nude woman had no further depth. What you saw was all there was.

Now Lillian’s raw breasts under that T-shirt made her nipples prominent, stressing the poor T-shirt unusually... making me wonder what size she must be... how that must feel... the texture... you know!

The pants had a plastic waist and it was like wearing a balloon around an electric bulb... or like water taking the shape of its container.

                The deed had been done! The Lillian I now saw couldn’t make me forget the Rihanna I’d seen... even if she robed herself in blankets. Nothing could obscure this beauty, nothing could hide it. Absolutely nothing. Only a coffin below six feet of earth....

                “Wow! This is great cuisine.” I wasn’t saying it to flatter anybody, the rice was truly excellent. This what you were running around for, Belle? Your efforts pay off beautifully.”

                “Thanks,” she said.

                Lillian was sitting over at the parlour reading a book and watching TV at the same time.

                “Hey Lily, you sure you don’t want to add eating to those chores?” I said with raised voice.

                “What?” she didn’t understand.

                “You’re reading and watching TV at the same time?”

                “Oh yeah... I’m coping fine,” she said disinterestedly.

                “I’m quite sure you are... but I was thinking you should add eating to it... ‘cuz you can’t afford to miss... this.”

                “I didn’t miss it. I’ve had mine.” Cold.

                “Did you think it was great? As I do?”

                “It’s always great around here,” she said with a tone I understood to mean bug me no further.

                “I don’t doubt you. I don’t doubt you one bit... I mean... look at how you both turned out!”

Isabelle had been listening... pretending to be just eating, and after Lily and I stopped talking she said to me,

                “Her name is Lillian not Lily!”

I assumed I understood what she meant.

                After the censure, the most part of the eating was now done in silence. The food was delicious, but I was full... even before I began to eat. I dared not say it so soon though, or the matter of the snacks and drinks with Biola would be reawakened. Isabelle was hyper-sensitive, insecure. And there’s something about being insecure: people tend to avoid the insecure, and look nearby for company. The insecure think they have a reason for being over-protective as they are, but they really don’t. Now when people flee from them and perch around their accommodating friends, they find justification for their overbearing attitude, and feel they’re losing because they don’t gather the reigns around their partners well enough... and this only worsens the situation. And the beat goes on.

Like now, I wasn’t comfortable with the weight Isabelle was placing on our young, simple friendship. I liked rather, the youth and seeming care freedom of Lillian over there; if I eloped with her, Isabelle’s stance would be one of a prior suspicion playing out... and it would appear as if she tried to stop that from happening... and would resolve to try even harder next time. She would never know she actually caused it.

                No man ever has it all... as to never chase a woman. Maybe my Nigerian maleness was hot cake here in South Africa, but every man would, sooner or later, have to chase after the woman he fancies. If need be, I was ready to chase Lillian. When was the last time I was really moved to concupiscence amidst unfavourable odds? Way back in the university, when the one I loved didn’t fancy me even a little. Now it was happening again: Lillian in the shadow of Isabelle... how do I reach across? Isabelle probably wanted us to sleep in the same room tonight, but I’d never been so free-spirited as to sign up for such a pleasure cruise. As what? Lovers? Lovers did it differently? Friends? Friends didn’t do this. Strangers? Strangers! Cheats!

                After dinner, while Isabelle cleared the table, I went and sat in the parlour hoping to strike up a conversation with Lillian. Nothing on TV was an issue good enough to light the fire. So I waited. I saw a photo album at the foot of the shelf and I asked Lillian,

                “That’s your album?” pointing at it, “Can I have a look?”

I thought she’d get up and bring it for me... like a civilised girl, but she just gestured me to go ahead, and continued to read her book.

I went and picked it and returned to sit.

                “You seem to love reading a lot,” I said.

                “Yeah,” she murmured disinterestedly.

                “What, is that academic... or merely for pleasure?”

                “Both.”

                “Okay.” I gave up; and opened the album.

A woman... must be their mom... very much on the large side... brunette. Flip... a young priest... the resemblance. I didn’t even know Isabelle was Catholic. Flip... family... way back... two boys. Flip... a man... old picture... okay... I was searching for their dad’s current picture, to know if he looked beastly, and whether I should flee from his girls or stay. A lot of Isabelle singles that I began to wonder if some were really Lillian... if I was mistaken. Someone needed to guide me through the album, but that someone was busy reading a useless novel! I tired of it... found none of the man’s recent picture; saw a lot of Isabelle’s... plus Abbey, Tanya, and Sasha and several folks I didn’t know – party atmosphere. Lillian only appeared twice... maybe thrice; two times in family shots, and then one from way back when that I guessed must be her. I may have been wrong.

                I dumped the album and just watched TV. But my mind wasn’t on the flat screen and the images inside it – they were too far. Katy Perry on Channel O – a diva, but too far. I was sitting in the same room with a true diva... but a cold one. I didn’t want to talk to her again now; it was obvious I was bugging her. She made me feel unwelcome in the place. I thought I might be willing to give up all the green lights in the world for this one... this one so red.

What did I expect anyway? A young girl of not more than twenty-three... this pretty... there was definitely someone! Some... South African dude! Wasn’t possible for there not to be. But how come she didn’t see what her sister and Abbey saw... and all the rest of the South African girls I’d met so far... even one Spanish one? Anyway, she was a campus girl; campus people live in a box... they think the world ends in school. She was a campus queen for all I knew... and I showed up from nowhere to make an impact? Maybe I was dreaming.

                Isabelle came out now and I said to her,

“Belle, I didn’t even know you’re Catholic.”

“Yeah... it’s not written on our faces anymore.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean... we’re hardly still Catholics anymore.”

She spoke without animation. Then she said I should come into the room for a second... to see where I’d be sleeping.

                “No Belle, this couch will do just fine.”

                “Couch? How can you sleep on the couch?”

                “Trust me, it’s not a problem at all... all u need to do is get me a blanket or something.”

                “If you were going to come here and sleep on the couch why didn’t you just stay back at Abbey’s?”

                “C’mon Belle, there’s no need for you to sound like that... I came here for company, remember? Not for sleep. It would be lonely at Abbey’s... so when you said your sis was around I thought I might come and meet her, and share your evening.”

Isabelle was standing in the doorway, and staring at me in somewhat disbelief. Perhaps this wasn’t what she had in mind; but it was best if I put my foot down now and stopped being her puppet.

                “C’mon... come and sit here,” I said, gesturing her close.

Lillian, probably sensing what her sister was about stood up and started walking to the room.

                “Where are you going, ma’am?” I demanded.

                “I’m going to bed,” she said.

                “Hold it please,” I said, rising up.

She stopped, and I faced her with a serious gaze.

                “Seems you have misgivings about my being here tonight... guess I understand. But I also sense that all’s not well with you... all’s certainly not well around here... perhaps you’ve had a bad day... but if it’s my presence that is causing all the discomfort I won’t mind leaving right now... on the say so of either of you.”

I was sternly moving my eyeballs from one face to the other, anticipating their reaction. Both girls looked at each other in silence. But Lillian looked at Isabelle for longer, as it were, driving the matter home that her decision to go to bed wasn’t to be changed. Her big sister nodded solemnly and Lillian marched away. I sat back down, visibly disconcerted.

Isabelle came and sat by me.

                “What’s wrong with your sister?” I asked her.

                “Don’t worry about her,” she said, “she’ll be fine.”

Silence.

                “So...” I said on an enlivened note, “what are we gonna do?”

                “I told you I was tired... why did you have to drag me out here?”

                “You wanted me to come in the room with you?”

                “Of course. You have a problem with that?”

                “Yeah. And my problem is, you’re tired and need to rest.”

                “Exactly... we’d just have slept.”

                “We’d just have slept, huh?”

                “Yeah!”

                “Says who... like you have no idea how... irresistible... you are.”

She smiled. And that was what I was left with: a more familiar dimension of beauty. Lillian’s had had some strangeness to it... some too good to be true aspects about it. And some carelessness. Like her excess beauty was for some deficiencies she had in other vital areas. Now I realised that Isabelle’s tantrum about her appearance when we came in wasn’t about her toying with the sensibilities of her guest, but that she should appear neat and well packaged in the presence of a stranger, at least. I have sisters, so I know there’s never an excuse for a girl to appear so unkempt. She didn’t seem to be interested in the fact that she was beautiful. In fact, it seemed she detested it. Whereas, Isabelle here, though her beauty didn’t parallel Lillian’s, appeared neater, and so... more alluring. I liked to be with Isabelle, but I thought about Lillian. What my mind contemplated was not how she was or what she looked like, but how she could be and look like... the possibilities. I conjured her image in my head and undressed her. Then I adorned her with Isabelle’s clothes and jewelleries, piece by piece. I gave her a bath first, and made her up. I fixed her long hair in a simple, glossy twist. I wore her black lacy panties. She looked like a mannequin – perfect... I wore her a cup-bra of the same material and colour... Then I inserted her in a blue, tight-hugging hipster jean. What do you see now? And then a spaghetti top. I applied talc on her face and wore her red lipstick... Simple, long dangling earrings, a necklace and a pendant – all of the same sculpture and silvery colour. What did I see now? I saw something I had to bring to pass.

                Isabelle nestled up to me on the couch with both legs raised onto it. She cooed into my ears and intoxicated me with wanting. I kissed her tenderly all over.

                “Let’s go to bed,” she coaxed.

I hesitated. “You know it’ll be irresponsible of me to have sex with you here tonight... I dunno... but that’s how I see it.”

She was silent for a while. Then “I wasn’t exactly suggesting sex... but we could make love... yes... if things came to that. Or do you still see sex with me as... just... sex, dear?” she cooed. “Don’t you love me even a little bit yet?”

“I don’t know yet, Isabelle, but I do know that I love to be with you... You bring out the man in me.”

“Oh, and what a man that is!” she teased, “Just that, right now, the man in you is turning right down... the woman in me.”

“Trust me girl, I’m doing it for the greater good.”

“I’ll trust you if you ask me to.”

“Please do.”

“Then I do. I trust you.”

“Good.”

“So... you’re not coming in... you sure you’ll be fine here?”

“Very. It’s even almost dawn already... so I could sneak out in the morning without disturbing anyone.”

“You want to sneak out?”

“I want to be gone early... to go wash up and head to the hospital. Of course I’ll see you later in the day.”

“So... what happens now?”

“Stay with me a little longer before you retire... except of course if you’re too tired or dizzy to.”

“Even if I’m too dizzy, I wouldn’t mind sleeping in your arms.

I like your build... you’re strong!”

                “Thanks. But size is hardly ever might. If I’m strong I’d love to be stronger. I want to do brave deeds... I want to move... without being told I’m too young or anything. I should like to do everything a man can do... Like Heinlein said, I want to be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a cow, con a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, pitch manure, solve equations, analyze a new problem, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly...

I should also like to fly an air plane, rule a nation, travel the world, speak my mind, love a woman, and participate in the process of bringing another human being into the world. I just want to live life to the brim.” I spoke with my eyes in space.

                “Hmm!” Isabelle snorted. “That’s deep. Where did you get that from?”

                “From within me,” I said. “From my soul.”

                “How old are you, by the way?”

                “I’m just about as old as I look... give or take.”

                “Means... you’re not gonna tell?”

                “Means you should quit asking. Nigerians wait a while before they tell their age.”

                “Why?” she asked.

                I quickly changed the subject; “You guys live here all by yourselves?”

                “Yes,” she said. “Our brothers are out of the country, and mom’s a diplomat... doesn’t live in a place for long. She’s currently in government in Pretoria.”

                “So... how do you survive?”

                “I just told you our mom works. She sends us money. And our eldest brother has a good job in the US.”

                “The other ones?”

                “The other ‘one’ is a priest... in Rome. And I’m soon gonna get a job myself.”

                “A priest?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Wow... You’re job hunting?”

                “Mhmm. Mom had even wanted to put me in her line, but I didn’t want. It’s too stressful and demanding. I want to have time for myself... and stay in one place.”

                “You want something like what Abbey has?”

                “Not necessarily... such aren’t available. Abbey’s shareholder, I’m not.”

                “Real? Abbey’s shareholder?”

                “You didn’t know?”

                “Nope! We never really got to talking about work.”

                “Her father founded the company with his friend... and she’s next of kin...”

                “Thought she has a brother?”

                “Yeah, a younger bro... but he’s kinda wayward... Their father willed his shares to Abbey because Abbey agreed to study business administration and take over the business. The guy got angry and went back to the US. He’d said he was studying pharmacy, but actually never went to class... He was using all the money they were sending him to fund his... stupid music dreams.”

                “So he’s a musician now?”

                “He may sing... but he’ll never be a successful musician?”

                “Haba! Why do you say that?”

                “Because the gangster phase of music is over... Music is a responsible profession now; the boy doesn’t want to be useful to himself so...”

                “Too bad. So how long has Abbey had that?”

                “Almost since she came back to the country... three to four years ago. She did all her schooling in one stretch and came back... and her dad’s friend oriented her to the business and how it is run... But I worked for a while before I went in for my Masters.”

                “She’s done hers?”

                “Yeah, she has.”

                “That’s nice. She should be talking about a PhD now.”

                “Yeah, she was.”

                “Was?”

                “Know what, I gotta go to bed. When are you leaving in the morning?”

                “At the first cock-crow.”

                “Please don’t sneak out... Lemme know before you go, okay?”

                “In that case I shall.”

We hugged tightly, and kissed tenderly, and said our goodnights.

                “Please help me put out the light,” I called out as she left the sitting room.

                Sleep was hard to come. Thoughts flooded my mind. What was I doing here... in the home of total strangers? But humanity is beautiful... fears and prejudices are really our own concoctions, humans have good hearts. If anything, they resemble their maker. What had I done to deserve care and concern from these girls I’d met seas away from home? How did we just blend like we’d been friends for long? And now love was even a possibility! Love, the most intimate crescendo in the world of feelings and emotions! Sex needn’t be a function of love, but people think it is the greatest way to make gifts of themselves to the ones they love. Really, it is awfully insufficient... the feeling is infinite, but the expression is a slave to limit. How far could one go? How long? For me, love didn’t even prod me to such carnal depths. It almost makes me carnivorous... like I should devour the one I love... like I should swallow them... or kill them... really... so as not to come to the embarrassing juncture of the loss of love; to see the one you love love someone else... to see her fail... to see her beauty wane... How could one love without ever descending to such ebbs?  I’d read of a people who felt so indebted to their political hero that they resolved to kill him and revere him as a god; for if he remained alive, he would perforce come to such a stop where the inordinate desire for power would despoil his good track records. They foresaw this and resolved to avoid such embarrassment. Killing the man was the highest gratitude they could express.

                My consciousness began to drift away. Thoughts were now hurtling to become dreams. I heard the sound of a door opening and I woke up. But it wasn’t here. Maybe the bathroom or so.

                “Isabelle?” I called out. “Is that you?” Twice. No answer came.

Then I concluded it must be the sadist – gloomy Lillian. I was right.

She came into the sitting room and put on the light. It was too bright and I had to shield my eyes.

                “Is it because of me that you didn’t go in to take what you came for?” she said to me. “Because I’m very sure you didn’t come all the way to sleep on a couch.”

                “Go to bed, Lillian, it’s late.” I clearly wasn’t interested in bantering words with her. I reckoned that if Isabelle heard voices and came out to see her with me things could easily wear a horrible look.

                “You better go in and take what you came for, men... ‘cuz I couldn’t care less... about that.”

I ignored her.

When she left, I thought she was going to return because she left the light on. But she didn’t return. I realized it was sheer wickedness that made her leave the light. I stood up and went to put it out.

                The next sound I heard was from my pocket. Abbey’s phone. I scrambled to get it. It was Doctor Fina.

                “Hello Doc...”

                “Hi good morning. Did I wake you?”

                “Yeah... bur tsokay... I asked you to call,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

                “Yes... and I felt I should give you the good news before going off.”

                “Off? Off duty...?”

Wait a minute! Off duty? What’s the time? ...and I thought I switched off that light... oh!

                “...be right there, Fina. Thanks a lot.”

               

                “Yeah... I felt I should come wake you so you can sneak out...”

I turned. Oh... early morning Isabelle... Beautiful. I smiled.

“...Thought you told me you didn’t have a phone?”

                “I don’t. This is Abbey’s.”

                “I heard it ringing again and again and I decided to come and wake you... thinking it might be important.”

                “Oh! You woke me? Thought I heard the phone ring...”

                “Indeed! Check how many missed calls.”

I removed the call duration... Four missed calls... Doc Fina.

We laughed.

                “She called to say Abbey’s up.”

                “Really?” she asked with glee. “Oh thank God.”

                “Shall we?” I said.

                “Hello! I’m a lady... have to wash up first. You go, I’ll come later.”

                “You’d be meeting us at home then?”

                “Who says... you think you’ll just go and take her! Trust me, you’ll still be spending the whole of today there.”

                “Really? Well I’m just glad she’s up.”

Lillian passes by, looking tattered.

                “Good morning Lillian,” I said to her.

I hardly heard what she murmured in response.

                “Belle... I gotta go.” We hugged, and kissed. “See you later.”

                “Won’t you at least... wash your face... your mouth?”

                “I forgot to come with my toothbrush,” I lied. I just didn’t want to waste any more time. “I’ll just buy a bubble gum or something... and chew... But I’ll go home soon to wash up, promise.”

                “Alright. Take care of you... byeee!”