UCHENNA ONYISHI

Ugonna kisses me now. He tells me he loves the way I love him.

I want him to tell me that he will not see the woman whose hair butter I still smell on his pillow again. That I was all he thought about when he was with her. And that he only indulged her because he thought I had given up on what he wanted us to have.

I want him to know that I forgave him before he asked for it, even though he has yet to ask for it. I want to tell him all these things, but he is half-asleep now. So I pick myself up from his bed and carry my thoughts and my heavy chest into his bathroom. I hurry. I do not want him to see what mourning him, not knowing when he would come back to me, has done to my body.

I slide into his rubber slippers. They are too big for me, but I do not mind. Everything about Ugonna has always been too big for me. He liked me that way. Overwhelmed.

The water is cold now, so I let it run against the wall until I am engulfed by hot steam. I turn the faucet a little to the left and direct the water rushing out of the shower head into my palms, gently pouring it between my thighs until red water runs down my legs and gathers around my feet, coloring the white tiles beneath me. They do not stay there for long. I watch them as they run down the drain in a dizzying spin.

I guide the steady beat of the lukewarm water across my face, letting it linger on my right cheek for a while. When I am done, I open his bathroom window to let out all the steam that has gathered on his walls and ceiling.

He is fully asleep now. Harmless. Underwhelming. Just how I like him. I settle into his bed and gently wiggle my way into his arms. The evening sun is falling below the frame of his bedroom window. I wait for it to disappear. This time, yesterday, I was on my way here. There was no orange sun to commemorate meeting Ugonna again. Just a community of clouds loudly discussing the rain, while my eyes celebrated seeing the inside of his home for the first time since I ended things with him.

The sun is gone now. Ugonna shifts his weight, and I do the same so I can breathe. I feel myself falling asleep so I close my eyes. I notice a butterfly hanging upside down by the window, her pale turquoise wings as still as an old widow’s home. I can tell she is not from around here. She stares at me, and I stare back. I wonder how she got in here. Ugonna never leaves his doors and windows open. I walk over to check on her, but each step I take feels like a step away, so I begin to run towards her. The faster I run, the further away I get. I stop running. I look around the room and see myself on the bed with Ugonna. The me on the bed looks like she is fighting for air. Ugonna’s arm is around my neck. I try to walk over to move his arm, but each step feels like a step away from myself. I try to run, but that only pulls me further away.

A heavy fear wraps itself around me. I spin around in search of something to grab hold of and find myself standing next to the butterfly. Her wings flutter slightly. In a panic, heavy air forces its way into my lungs, and my lungs push back. I attempt two careful steps toward the glass window. I slide it open to let the butterfly out, and a sudden gust of wind blasts through, knocking me down. The butterfly too. She flaps her wings and circles the floor next to me in a seizure. I try to pick her up, but her wings turn to dust. I get up and shut the window. My chest swells and collapses even more as I struggle for air. I place my left palm on my chest and try to settle my heart so it does not get away from me. A severe pain takes a heavy jab at my chest and I fall back to the ground. I feel myself shutting down. A total darkness.

Ugonna kisses me now. He tells me I have been out for a little more than a couple of hours. He asks if I am too tired to eat, but I am sore between my legs and do not want to make the trip to the kitchen. I ask him to pick me up and take me to the parlor.

He places my risotto on the coffee table, turns off the air conditioner, picks up the TV remote, and settles into the sofa.

“City is playing Tottenham today,” he says excited. “The guys will pick me up after the game.” I say nothing.

“You want me to wake you up before leaving?” he asks.

“If you feel like it,” I say.

I want to tell him to stay with me, that I am afraid of what will happen if he leaves again, but this would irritate him. Instead, I wrap myself up in the blue knit blanket a friend got him for his birthday and let my head fall into his lap.

I shut my eyes. Tightly, this time.