The air from the partially rusty ceiling fan was soothing and the alomaco window at the right corner of the room had begun to let sunlight in. It was past 8am. I knew this because I had this weird gift of predicting the time from how far up the sun had risen.

I examined the room, taking in the changes that had been made since the last time I visited  my parents in Abuja. The framed Lucky Dube poster hanging beside the door that led to the toilet and the emerald tile floors I hated so much. I had told my dad I wanted them black but he had insisted on “adding more color to the room”.

“Adetola, stand up from that bed and get ready for church”, a voice from the other side of my room door called. It was my mother’s.

—-

“Janet”

My heart skipped a beat as I said her name. I watched as she ushered members in with her radiant smile that revealed the beautiful gap in her front teeth.

Janet was the first woman who had made me feel seen and comfortable in who I was. It had been love at first sight, three years ago when I ran into her at the yearly youths easter retreat in my church. She was the most beautiful person, with her big brown eyes and hips that swerved slightly with every step .

Her honey blonde hair that smelt like a mix of shea butter and rich Indian hemp oil, and her deep dark complexion that always set her apart from everyone else.

“How are you doing?. It’s been so long. You look amazing”, I said without letting her speak.

“Thank you Adetola. You look great as well. When did you get back?”

“Yesterday afternoon”.

“Babe come feed this pikin abeg”, a tall dark man in a pale lemon suit, carrying a little baby walked up to where we stood. 

The reality of Janet being married didn’t make sense to me. I knew she never wanted to be married. I didn’t understand what had changed. 

Janet excused herself and I stared as she walked away. The memories of our time together began flooding my thoughts. The time when she was all mine, and I, hers. 

When she would take me to the back of the church toilet and make me fondle her bosom before exposing herself to me. I recalled the first time she touched me till my eyes went all the way to the back of my head.

Or when she got me a bucket of Agbalumo for my birthday because I told her it was my favorite fruit. She knew how to do the little things and I had loved that about her.

Now the lover was only there when my eyes were closed. When I opened them, there was just Janet, the usher from church.

“Ade darling. I can see that you’re back from Abuja. This your dress is fine. See your fine shape. When will you bring a husband to come and show us?”

Aunty Binta, the only cool church elder complimented me, interrupting my session of reminisce.

“Soon ma, soon”, I smiled wryly.