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SIX

There were somethings about Fiyin that reminded him of Sarah back in Houston, he’d noticed. Not just the cling of soccer boys to her table but also her look. It was no news, that Fiyin did indeed, change.

Everyone does. But she also grew, out of Obi.

When they were young as six, they loathed those people. Those spoiled brats in elementary school with their short dresses. And fake accents, and too elaborate of a makeup for people their age.

But now, looking at her, all of them now on the verge of turning eighteen, Fiyin had become the person she once loathed. They all, loathed.

She was what they called, popular. And now she hung around the people who used to tease her, the girls that’ll poke at her unbraided hair and torn skirts. She was atop the table, amongst them placing on a fake smile to whatever dry jokes they told. Another fact, you can’t be pretty and funny.

They all were pretty, that he could admit. Meaning their humor wasn’t all that much. How he knew it was a fake smile? Because Fiyin was never that person. This person, she had become.

But somehow she was there, having climbed her way to the top of the popularity chain, and she had sold more than just fruits to get there.

The validation she didn’t get from her father, Fiyin sought them in the men she met by the roads when she hawked. Be it their inappropriate whistling as she strode by. Or their comments about her body.

At first it made her uncomfortable, but then she was told one day, she was pretty. The first time, she’d heard such compliment. But the thing about compliments, they can sometimes ruin you. Or just get to your head. She sought after that—

—compliments. More and more, as she grew into this person that Obi no longer recognized. She found herself putting on eyeliner before she went hawking. And pulling the waistband of her skirts up above her stomach, to reveal her netted thighs.

Her beautiful thick thighs, she was told.

She flustered, hard, thinking she was closer to the people she saw on screens. Those teenagers, that were nothing like teenagers. She began to imitate them unconsciously. And then, consciously.

And then, she had met a man across a road.

She didn’t know of it, she might have just trekked so far but one thing about her, she would always find her way, not that her father cared.

Or that she had a curfew.

She had on her ragged uniform. Her worst, on a day that was the pinnacle of pain during her period. She remembered how the moon shone in the skies, though it might have just been like seven pm.

This car had passed by her, and then slowed down.

Silent screeches against the holed roads, and the windows wound down. It was a luxurious car, not that she had much exquisite taste for cars at the age of sixteen then. She halted, assuming she was about to sell the last fruit on her tray—

—meaning no dinner for her. Then again, she needed some money for new textbooks, so it was an opportunity cost. Her studies, over her health.

As always.

Her father was aware she used the money off the sale of his produce for her education so he didn’t make a fuss out of it. Besides the fruits were somewhat free, all he just appreciated was that whenever he needed money for booze or a good ol’ cigarette—

—she would give him change without hesitation.

“What do you want?” She asked, bickering at the last apple on her tray as she brought it down her head. “That” He pointed, with an accent. His, was real. And he didn’t seem like he was from here.

She admired how light his skin was, like the ones she saw on television. And how well his hair slicked behind his ear. How much she wished hers had that sort of texture. But she dared not to utter a word as she bagged the single apple.

The windows were all the way down as he reached for it. For a moment, their hands brushed together and it might have just been her outpouring hormones but there was a tingle.

She didn’t want this.

And the way he stared made her uncomfortable.

Yet, she was quick to collect the money. A thousand naira, that was worth much then, not now anyways.

“I—“ She stuttered. “I don’t have any change” She looked from her bag, hefting coins. Somehow she’d managed to give them all out, leaving her with a few thousand naira notes. “It’s okay” The man said.

“You can keep it” She seemed like a charity case to him. Fiyin hated that but she was left with no choice as she watched him drive a bit forward.

Then he came to a halt again. Her insides that were once squealing at the extra cash had quenched, as he reversed. “Where are you going?” He peered from his windows as she looked around.

She didn’t know where she was, which was obvious and she couldn’t pinpoint a particular name. “Where are you, going?” He rephrased and she blurted out. “Abule-Egba” All the warnings about not engaging strangers, all going down the drain.

“Come on” There was nothing subtle about the way he tapped his seat. “I’ll take you there. I’m headed there myself” Fiyin held unto the tray and walked sheepishly as the door fell wide open. She was unsure of this, and later on, she would wish she listened to her gut feeling. It had never failed her.

She sat in, as the windows went up. And the locks too. Placing the tray between her legs, she peered out of the window, avoiding the awkward silence.

The car was as cold as what she imagined the United States felt like. And she let it soothe her tight joints. Beads of sweat dried to her skin as she relaxed in the passengers’ seat. “So—“ He said, desperate to break the silence with small talk.

Fiyin hummed, too relaxed to utter a response. For that second, she had forgotten the tumultuous pain that her stomach was in as she focused on the roadside. “What’s your story?” The man asked.

“I’m Andrew by the way” The name traditionally registered in her brain as— “Uncle Andrew” Which she echoed with a nod and he chuckled.

“No” She shook his head as their eyes locked into each other like how it does now with Ola. But that time, tension filled the enclosed car. “Just Andrew”

His voice fell into a whisper as he pushed a lump down his throat. His adam’s apple lowering down a bit. And so did his eyes, to her lips. And then down to her thighs. She clenched her laps, instinctively.

And he chuckled once again. “Sorry?” He said.

“It’s— it’s just you’re very beautiful” He admitted and there it was, another compliment that melted her heart. Her lips twirled in a smile as color rushed to her cheeks. She was at her worse, looked her worst and felt her worst. And there she was—

—still being told she was beautiful. For God’s sake, she didn’t even try today. Her hair was a mess, she still wore her uniform, which screamed she was underage but he didn’t care as he groped her thighs with his large veined hands, initiating something.

Fiyin gasped, taken by surprise as he slowly parked the car. What was happening? And why was she numb? She knew how to take a compliment, but not this. There was a stench of smoke that came from his car as he plunged a cigarette between his pale lips. He blew out with a sigh, and it flashed before her eyes. He was just like her father, but different.

If that made any sense.

She budged then, at the smell of the smoke and he took off his hands. “I want to go home” She said, her voice in a whisper as he chuckled, again. He was used to that, a deep, iced laughter that showed his teeth. Her eyes darted to the back at a suitcase.

She was scared to flinch, to make a noise as his hands brushed the side of her cheeks. She turned crimson in a second and felt cold. Then his arms slowly went down to where they once were.

Her thighs.

She was just, sixteen. And he looked way older.

She didn’t want this, she wanted to flee with her tray but the chances she would get away are slim.

The doors were locked. The tinted windows too.

He adjusted in his seat as tears crept into her eyes. He shushed. “It’s okay” Came an assuring whisper as she clenched her thighs with his palms between them

“I—“ She pushed a lump down her throat.

“I’m on my period” She said, and the chuckle that came next showed he didn’t seem to mind. “I want to go home” She said. “I just wanted to go home—“

He pushed further as her head slumped forward and her eyes closed. That was all she remembered, or maybe all she chose to remember, quenching it in the back of her mind like how Obi did, his sexuality.

She was assaulted, and she lost a piece of herself that day. Never telling a word to anyone, she didn’t even acknowledge it herself. All she remembered after was being dropped by the side of the roads—

—was that she made it home and he handed her an envelope while he buckled his belt. It was money, it felt like it. “What is this?” She managed to ask, her mouth sore. And her lips, chapped. “I don’t know”

“Just use it to take care of yourself” He gestured at her hair and her clothing with his arms. Then she knew, that compliment was a lie. “Thank y—“ The car zoomed off as Fiyin staggered towards her home. Obi, of course had no idea of this story.

But he knew that after that day, Fiyin seemed to see men. She was robbed of one other thing in this life.

Something she cherished the most. This was unlike the good food, and good parents that she was also robbed off.

This was her virginity, so what was there to savor?

She was doomed to this life from the very beginning, she thought as she stared at the envelope of cash. Ten thousand naira, was what she sold herself for. Not willingly, but it was a price indeed.

And with that, all she thought about was how she was going to cash it in for her textbooks and also get enough food supplies to make her father dinner.

An actual dinner.

From that fall night of two years back, Fiyin had changed. She was forced to. To Obi, he just knew she met with men who complimented her. And bought her fancy clothes, and gave her money. For shoes, her hair. She was there, atop the table.

Never letting anyone see past the radiance, that was just a broken girl in need of help. She never told Obi to stay away, or that she didn’t want to be friends. It was just after a long summer of realizing they had barely spoken to each other that drew them apart. The summer after, what had happened.

If only he knew.

If only, she told him.

They looked through the glassed cafeteria doors where once again, she’d met eyes with Ola. And Obi squeezed his shoulders. “Fiyin’s changed—"

“Everything has, man.”

To be continued...

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