ODIASE

It is ironic how beginnings often come in retrospect. I was taking a lazy run when this one hit me, as if conjured up by the effortlessness of it. The warm morning breeze awakened buried memories I thought I had left behind. I remember my tight NYSC khaki pants and pulling on it, uncomfortable with the news I was about to share, but encouraged by the words “a problem shared is one half solved”. Odiase looked at me expectantly with care in his eyes, same eyes I always saw a particular sadness in.

I had moved from Port Harcourt with little to nothing but unrealistic optimism. Lagos swiftly reminded me how wrong I was as later that same night I found myself in the four small walls of a jagged motel. The boyfriend I wanted to surprise with my presence ended up surprising me with his absence. I cried that night, turning from side to side on that dirty bed that reeked of alcohol and something else I couldn’t name, realizing dreams and wishes alone aren’t enough. We broke up soon after, no surprise there.

In retrospect, years can teach you something today can’t. He still watched me expectantly. I looked elsewhere, unable to form the words but they came out anyway, “I don’t have enough money to make my rent”, I said. As if half relieved it wasn’t something else, he told me not to worry. He wrote a check casually and escorted me to the bank to cash it. I was so sure the check would bounce or something worse, he was older than I was but still young in general. It didn’t. It couldn’t be this easy. No argument, no lecture, just care and thoughtfulness. I remember realizing to my enjoyment that men do take care of the people they care about. 

I had only known him two weeks, but he seemed to have known me even longer. What he lacked in joviality he had plenty of in warmth. And I took him for granted. 

He was 7 years older than I was at the time, I was 22. Good-looking but not in the way I was used to. In fact he was almost quite the opposite of what I liked in a man but he was so warm and kind that I wanted to ignore all of it. Instead I started ignoring him. You see I was too young and immature to know how to handle the person that he was. I got upset about his brooding nature, questioned him about the calls he received, all the while looking for an out. I did the most. He left the country soon after.

To love and be loved is the greatest gift of life. This was my genesis, the first man who showed me what it is to be loved. Not because he spent on me, but because of how he did it. I as much as whined about period pains and he’s at my door ready to take me to get ice-cream. Well that’s my love language. My high expectations stemmed from here. How do you go about expecting less when you’ve seen and you know more is possible?

As I completed the last leg of my 5km run, I knew I was going to write about him. I’m not sure where he is these days, I hope he’s alive and thriving. I hope you enjoyed this little welcome piece. If anything I hope you know how to handle love when you receive it.

With Love,

Deborah Nelson

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