I met Jesujinde when I was in between lives. I had just left my parent’s house to live with friends in the spirit of collective hustle. And while I tried as much to pretend everything was going great, he was there to call me out of that bullshit.
He was the friend of a friend, and I only got to meet him by chance: there was a house party and I hated being the new girl, so I stayed indoors in my room while everyone else partied. He was avoiding peer pressure and sought the comfort of my room.
I took my eyes off the book I was reading to stare at the fine mumu who found his way into my room, staring at me with half a smile. The mumu that kept saying “sorry for barging in” but made no effort to leave.
I have no idea what happened to him after that. The book was more important. I don’t remember the book I was reading, but it was more important at the time. Months later, and we’ve come to become good friends. I’ve listened to him make stupid mistakes about boys and I’ve had my share of career advices which have pulled me in the right direction.
I’d like to believe I’ve come to know Jinde for the amazing human he is without finding the need to cross the friendly relationship lines. But that’s not entirely true.
It doesn’t make any sense, but here I am. When he talks about the men he wants, I flinch quietly. I hope my face doesn’t betray me, but I’m sure my eyes does. I don’t mean to be sad but I always am. Does he not see me enough, does he not rate me that well? What kind of woman must have scarred him before? Or did a man lead him down this path? I’ve spent months wondering about this but never acting on it.
Yesterday, Jinde called me. “It seems I’ll be relocating abroad next month. My company wants me to take up a position abroad.” I held my breath. This definitely is not good news, at least for me. How am I supposed to reply?
“Oh cool. Yay! Where?” I asked, half interested. If he sensed this, he didn’t say. “Nairobi, Kenya. That counts as abroad too na, sebi?” He said while laughing. I laughed too, but I didn’t, not really.
He said he’d be coming to see me after work today. I’m not sure what for. I mean, if it was another guy, I’d have waxed by now and choked myself in expensive cologne. But him, how do you say good bye to what you overestimate but still undervalues you, not because they don’t know your worth, but because they value you differently?
I keep staring at the pack of Cold Juice in my hand, ideas making their presentations in my head as I try to decide what to do next. Juice box… juice box… I smile, he does like this juice a lot. My eyes lit up, and then I smile.
I guess it’s up to me to save him. What would the world do without women? It’s always up to us to save lost men. Ignorance breeds immorality; if he knows better, he’d live better. I open the juice box and drop 500mg of zolpidem and zaleplon each. As an after-thought, I drop 3 or 4 tablets of viagra in it too and shake thoroughly before putting it in the freezer.
Nothing wey cold juice and brezz no fit solve. It’s my turn to save him from himself.