Page 27 of The Death of Vivek Oji

“You see?” I whispered. I had no idea what I was talking about, just desire maybe, but he nodded like it made sense.

“Okay,” he said, and stepped away from me. “Okay.”

Vivek walked across the room and covered his face with his hands, dragging the skin down. “Can we just lie down for one minute? I need to lie down.”

“Of course.” I tried to sound calm.

“Okay. Thank you.” He climbed onto the bed and lay on his back, draping his forearms over his eyes. I hesitated before I lay down next to him, then stared at the ceiling. I could hear him beside me, taking long deliberate breaths. He was trying to calm down.

“Is this real?” he asked.

I knew exactly what he meant. It felt as if we had stepped out of everything we knew before and into something else entirely, as if what had just happened couldn’t have happened on the other side, only on this side.

“Yes and no,” I answered, my voice hesitant. “Whatever you want.”

Vivek turned his head and uncovered his eyes to look at me. “Have you done this before?”

I almost laughed. It was such a far cry from those days when he was the virgin and I was the one who made fun of him. Now it was as if I was starting over, as if I didn’t know anything.

“No,” I admitted. “Never. Have you?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Yes.”

I was surprised at the pang that shot through me. “Oh. Okay.”

Vivek rolled over on his side and put his hand on my cheek, turning my face to him. “Are you jealous?” He sounded amused.

“Fuck you,” I said, and he laughed at me.

“You’re jealous,” he sang, then he kissed me and pulled up my shirt, touching my stomach, dipping into my jeans. “Don’t be jealous,” he whispered, as his fingers drew me out. My body bent up to the ceiling and Vivek lowered his head till his hair was a shadow spilling across my hips.

I died at his mouth.

It was the clearest terror and pleasure I had ever known. How was it possible that the boy who once chipped my tooth was the same one with his cheek now pressed against my navel? I could feel the shame like a shadow in my chest, but it was faint, insignificant. I didn’t care. I didn’t care. I would do it again, all of it, for him, always for him. I clutched at his head and cried out as I came, my whole body a naked wire. Vivek pulled himself back up and wrapped his arms around me. I couldn’t stop shaking.

“Hey, hey.” He tightened his hold on me. “Osita, it’s all right. It’s all right. Just breathe.”

My fingers were clawed in the fabric of his caftan and every muscle in my body felt locked. He touched his forehead to mine, and his skin was cool. “Bhai,” he whispered. “Relax.”

For some reason, I wanted to hit him. I couldn’t tell if he was comforting or restraining me, but his strength was much more than I’d expected. I could barely move in his hold. Howstupid I had been, to assume that I’d been the one restraining him earlier, the strong one. He had stayed in my hands because he wanted to, not because I was making him. How stupid I had been, full stop. I struggled, but he wouldn’t release me.

“Let go,” he ordered, and I felt my throat twist, sounds choked within it. “I’m here. It’s all right. Let go, bhai.” My face was pressed into his chest and when the scream made it out of my mouth, it sank against his body, the volume muffled. I was sobbing—stupid, embarrassing sobs—and Vivek put his mouth to the top of my head. “You’re safe,” he murmured. “It’s just me. It’s just you and me.”

We lay together like that until all the tears had wrung their way out of me, until we both fell asleep, wet with each other’s salt.

Fourteen

Vivek

If I didn’t love Osita already, I would have for that evening alone. For coming to find me, for kissing sense into me. For breaking himself apart, trusting me with his secret.

Later that night, I woke up to him unhurriedly kissing my neck. He was gentle as he pulled up white handfuls of my caftan, gentle when he touched me with spit-wettened hands, when he entered me—you would have thought it was my first time, not his.

The sheets dragged in fractions beneath us. I turned my head to look back at him. “I’m not going to break, you know.”

Osita rocked inside me slowly. “I know.”

“I’m serious.” It was hard to think with that much of his skin all around me. “You don’t have to take it easy.”