In a while, I was lost. My legs could feel nothing, arms akimbo, I stood in disgust, relatively staring to nothing. From a distance, her radiance graced my heart, my thoughts. Memories of her hover evenly, fresh and instant. I only imagined the good times, the fun times – never the bad, there was none, I concluded.
‘Hello’, she said gesturing at my living-dead statue in the guise of standing. Like a ghost who saw another ghost, surprised, I muttered a ‘hi’ that echoed like fart in the pool. I didn’t hear that either.
‘Being a while’, she queried with her eyes.
‘Yeah. Sure. Being a while, like ages. How are you?’
‘Am fine as you can see’, she said smiling.
Sure, she is fine. Has always been. Her curvy queen-like stature brought sanity to my moment.
The idea of God’s creativity is not far fetched from this earthen creature. Art is indeed, life. Ngozi has always stood out, her wit and spontaneous smiles made her a demigod in my world. Taking a part of me, all the time. One thing is just not fair. The unfairness of the Creator came to bare on her. Epilepsy is never a friend of the pretty. For the ugly? Not at all. It can always be easy to be human, accepting people the way they are and showing love to all but the thought of reality looms, never fading.
Standing before me, I imagined the pleasure of such beauty adding to the cup-like breast with full flesh behind.
‘Where are you now?’ She asked.
Her voice ran through my Luteinizing hormone, in turn, stimulating the Leydig cell production of my testosterone, acting synergistically to give my third man a standup concentration.
‘Yeah…am around. Am around’, I said, refusing to keep a direct gaze to keep calm, the third leg within.
‘I know you’re around, like always. Am asking, what’s up with you since we left school? Its like two years now.’ She quizzed.
‘Yeah. Okay, am with a telecommunication company. I got signed up last three months. Though I have been into one or two things but that’s what’s up now.’
Oh! I see. You now a ‘big boy’ ooo. You now keep bears, see small you.
‘Okay! Enough, you know I don’t keep up with those tauting mocks of been small. Spare me that now, I beg of you’, I said playfully. We walk through the mall, picking and checking on what to buy, I noticed a movement, steadily behind. I made to alert the security, on a last thought, I consulted her.
‘Are you with someone, I mean, anyone? Here!’
‘oh! Forgive me. Yeah, am with my kind-of-a-helper. You know when one is plagued with my kind of ailment. You can’t tell when it visits’, she said, examining the spine of Under Bridge by Immanuel Ibeanyanwu.
Yeah. You can’t tell when indeed. I pitied her. Ngozi was my crush. During our 100 level in University of Abuja, we were the newest couple on campus. Just friends, she told me, just friends. I was friend-zoned, I couldn’t help it. I always wanted her around and she was, always. But in my closet, I seek to justify such beauty and epilepsy. Such life and a curse. Such living and suffering. The more I try to know why God created her with such pain, the more I question who is responsible for that. If not God, then who? Her choice? My wondering took me afar. I seek to know the need for poverty when my pastor preaches a rich God. The blind. The cripple. The imbeciles. The speech impaired. The many things. The many imbalances. Or are my thoughts impaired?
‘Chi…you know, sometimes, I feel I should just leave planet earth for heaven, hopefully. I need to ask God, why he allowed this inconsistencies in my composition’, she said staring at me. ‘Why he allowed all these imbalances in the world he claimed to love’, I wanted to add but I needed not add to her grief.
‘I think we should go get some ice cream, hope you don’t mind?’ I tried to smile.
Yeah, sure. She knew I don’t enjoy discussing her epileptic self. I never did, with her. We never did.
Ngozi appears normal to all but Ngozi doesn’t live a normal life like all.
Do all really have a ‘normal’ life? Do you?