Page 48

To get his spiked heartbeat under control, Timi scanned the room.

It was very unlike the owner. Dull brown and cream walls, grey curtains and bedspread, with the only vibrant colours peeking from a semi-ajar wardrobe; one of the notable pieces of furniture asides the bed and dressing mirror.

A space so empty of personality, a monk or a prostitute could lay a believable claim of ownership.

The only personal items were the array of medals weirdly arranged like a fort on the dressing table, but they probably were only there to serve as reminders of a life Alex never wanted to live again.

“Never leave your opponent standing,” Alex said, bringing Timi's gaze back to him.

“Huh?”

Alex handed over a box of wipes to Timi. “My code.”

“Oh.” Timi pulled out a few and began wiping his fingers. “Fair enough.”

“Who once promised to return to you and didn't?”

Timi paused cleaning. It didn't surprise him that even in his rants, Alex had paid attention. How could he have doubted Alex's sincerity towards him for a second? He threw away the soiled wipes into a metal bin, then headed for the bed.

“My father,” he said, as he perched at the edge. With Alex, only the truth held sway.

“Uncle Jude?”

Timi shook his head. “My birth father. Those were his last words to me before we were called to identify his body.”

“I'm sorry,” Alex said softly.

“No need,” Timi said. “He was a corrupt cop, obsessed with the need to please his wife who had a mental breakdown after her brother's death. Later offed by the wolves he chose to dine with. Never grew a backbone to stand up for himself and save m—his life.”

“Timi, I'm— ”

“Wolves like Agu, Alex. People who hate weak links, loose ends and being challenged. How can you…why did you go there? Was it because of…me? And Sporax Media? Why did you keep looking?”

Alex faced the mirror, and after a long moment, sighed.

“Perhaps, your father wasn't the only one without a backbone.

At first, my dad fought them. But he…when it got too much, he just let go.

Drinking and gambling away the assets he'd saved for rainy days.

When there was nothing left, he took to swinging at mum and Oyin in drunken rages.

Mum did everything to keep me in the private uni I was then, but I couldn't stay. Our money had depleted, and no one was safe from my dad. So, I dropped out to start afresh in Unilag. Attended classes from home and thought I had it under control until one afternoon…” Alex's voice trailed off.

Timi gave him some time, before he covered the hand lying on the dresser with his. “What happened?”

“We…came back from a weekend getaway he'd forced us to go.

And we found him. Right over the chocolate biscuits he'd baked, covered in flour. He left a note apologising for not being man enough. The sight, the smell, my comfort scent mixed with the stench of death. Completely ruined my love for baking.”

“Fuck,” Timi whispered.

“I think I really grew up that day. Cleaning my father's stiff body and convincing the family doctor to report it as a heart attack and not from poison made me realise how fast things could change.

I wanted to understand why he'd done it.

Yes, the papers tore him up. Comparing the business under his management and my grandfather's, and concluding it was his greed and incompetence that led to the abrupt discontinuation of a product everyone loved.

But it didn't matter to us, even if he wasn't the best of fathers.

His kinsmen and his country had abandoned him, but we were there.

I guess we weren't enough. So, when you told me you were giving up…”

Timi's chest squeezed. “Alex, I—”

“Going to Agu's wasn't majorly about you though, so stop feeling concerned or guilty. You forget I didn't meet him through you.”

“And uncovering Rukky had nothing to do with me? ”

Alex remained quiet.

“Okay. What's your deal with him, then?”

Alex's lashes lowered. “Agu has been paying for my mum's care.”

Timi shifted closer. “So, that…is it dementia?”

Alex nodded. “Mid-stage. Agu took care of her hospital bills in exchange for the service I rendered. When I sent in my resignation, I also brought her back home and cancelled the deal with Agu. He didn't take it very well.”

“But that was weeks ago.”

“I answered his summons when I could.”

Alex clearly wasn't ready to give details, and Timi had to respect that. So, he settled for a long-due apology.

“What for?” Alex asked.

“Everything,” Timi said. “For my words and actions towards you. For not considering how you may have perceived them. For your mum, and for your father.”

“I'm sorry too,” Alex said.

“What for? I'm the idiot here.”

“Your dad, for one. You must have been so scared.”

Timi sighed. “You shouldn't be. His corruption and cowardice killed him.”

“You could say the same for my father. He chose money over family. And when he lost it, he chose death.”

Timi shook his head. “Yours was a victim of slander. Mine did illegal things because he couldn't say no.”

“To kids, character hardly influences fathers' performance ratings.

You insist on your father's guilt, yet you couldn't hide the pain when you mistook my situation for his. For me, my father died long before he drew his last breath. When I read his note, all I could summon was anger for leaving Mum and Oyin without making amends for every time he hit them.”

Timi fell backwards into the bed. What purpose did a present father living under the thumb of his dragoon wife serve? Sometimes, he'd even hoped his father would hit him, so he could be certain he hadn't become furniture the chief witch kicked at will.

His breath shuddered out of him. “I get it. But my pain has nothing to do with his death.”

Alex joined him. The bed creaked under their combined weight. “Hm. Let's assume they've met in hell then and bonded over their cowardice.”

A smile tugged at Timi's lips. “Twin cowards. Though mine will sell yours off to the meanest demon for a comfortable pillow.”

“Why would you—fine. Your father wins the asshole category. Jeez.”

Laughter bubbled out, with Alex joining in soon after.

When they came back to earth, they lay sprawled in opposite directions, heads touching.

The air settled around them, familiarly warm and comfortable, the swinging ceiling fan, a soothing melody.

And Timi restrained himself from curving into Alex's warmth.

“Your mum mentioned Oyin,” he said after a while.

Alex exhaled loudly. “Right.”

“Where she at?”

A heaviness slowly surrounded Alex like a magnetic field, snuffing the comfort Timi had been basking in. And he knew what he would say before the whispered words came.

“Dead.” Grief, cutting through.

The temperature dropped. “The pimp killed her?”

“No. Two of her clients did. According to their defence, she agreed to do what they demanded, and it wasn't their fault she couldn't handle it. They were charged with manslaughter.”

“Oh God. I thought you paid off her debts? Why was she still entertaining people?”

“I tried getting through her. If only I'd just…” Alex sighed. “Prisoners sometimes fall in love with their prisons.”

Unable to bear the distance between them anymore, Timi reached for Alex's hand and laced their fingers. His heart scrunched up when Alex didn't pull away. “How long ago was this?”

“Two years, four months and thirteen days. On Mum's birthday.”

His horror grew. How many misfortunes had Alex suffered? How had he not lost his mind ?

“I felt numb,” he'd said during their conversations about life abroad. “ Figured it was the best place to process things without turning into a nutjob.”

“It affected your mum,” Timi whispered. “That's why you returned to Nigeria.”

“The initial diagnosis was partial amnesia from grief,” Alex said. “It became dementia when she also began forgetting the present.” He turned to his side, and Timi followed suit.

Alex smiled, but it remained on his lips. “Sometimes, I think about how lucky she is to have this precious gift of remembering only the times when things weren’t so bad.”

Timi's eyes traced those exquisite features. “One wave of the hand, and poof! bad memories gone.”

“Then, we make the same mistakes that caused the bad memories, again and again. Because we're who we are,” Alex said, his warm breath grazing Timi's face like hesitant fingers.

“A temporal loop,” Timi concurred. On their accord, his fingers extracted themselves from Alex’s grip and traced his full brows. “The benefit of hindsight may be beneficial after all.”

Alex's eyes held his. “A lost memory is only good for its sufferers, y'know? As it isn't much of a loss than a transfer of grief to those suffering the same grief. I look at her, Timi, and all I do is remember.”

Chest aching, he cradled Alex’s cheek. “I promise, one day you'll remember, and it won't hurt as much.”

Alex closed his eyes, rubbing his cheek against his palm like a kitten. And Timi's heart threatened an explosion.

“She called you Kaka,” Timi said. “Is there a middle name I should know?”

Alex opened his eyes. “Maybe. Would you tell me your old name?”

Timi went still, then his hand dropped. “Nothing about it would interest you.”

“Shouldn't I determine what interests me? ”

Timi looked away from his unnerving gaze. The third of him was slowly unfolding, fresh, untainted and likable. How could he allow the rot of his yesteryears crawl in and metastasise?

Alex pulled at his lock, dragging Timi's gaze back to him. “Stop thinking. You don't have to tell me.” He glanced at his phone and sat up. “Esthie isn't here to whip up her sexy meals, and man's gotta eat. Ready for another cooking lesson?”

Dinner was wheat with chunky vegetable soup—thanks to Timi's first attempt at shredding ugwu and waterleaf. A feat whose badge of honour he carried with pride.