Lolu's Story
The night looked promising, and Beatrice had assured you that you wouldn't have to start any conversation. "The night will sort itself, Jàre," she said while applying her lip gloss for the hundredth time. She didn't look you in the eyes though, she never did, not since the night you both will rather forget. This is the first night you are leaving the house after that night. You'd rather crawl under your pillow and die, but your parents are already giving you looks of pity.
You decide that one night wouldn't kill you or change anything; you are doing this for your parents because you owe it to Folu to live a little. You are wearing the black dress that she swears shows your chest, seeing as you barely have breasts. Beatrice had always been the outgoing and friendly one, the direct opposite of what you were before and after Folu. Sighing, you choose the only black and "fun" shoes you own; you want to feel less dressed by wearing something you own.
The party was already ongoing when you arrived, and Beatrice insisted on being fashionably late. You are still tongue-tied and shocked by the number of people mermaid-man Austin managed to gather within a short time. You remember the first time you met Austin. He was the principal's errand boy of the week—and unfortunately, your tour guide. Then, he was a tall boy with full hair and a gummy smile. You were briefly attracted to him until he started talking, and you decided you should judge a book by its cover. He showed you the halls, the gym, your class, and even the toilets; if you were not so sapiosexual, you would have liked to see him later. You are grateful you didn't, though, because he looks thirty years older now and smells like fish.
You try to make small talk, but all people want to talk about is when the hospital will release Folu's body. You smile and tell them that you were not legally married to him, so they wouldn't release him to you. You look around for Beatrice, but she is nowhere near you. You sigh and take the seat nearest to the door; this way, when Beatrice finds you, you can quickly escape the party.
It feels good to be among people, and you wonder why you've kept yourself indoors for a week. Granted, there'd be rumors about Folu and the violent way he died, but you've never been one to care for rumors. You just didn't want to go back to that evening when you lost the resolve to live. The night before that evening was the best day of our lives. Folu had just gotten a promotion at work and was finally getting enough money to complete the studio you both had always wanted. He had gotten home earlier than usual to make dinner and light candles.
You both joked about how he was always trying to burn something down. You both had the wine he was keeping for the wedding night. You protested, but he dimpled you, and you immediately forgave him. You made him promise to buy a more expensive bottle of wine just for that night. He was always the carefree and fun one. He was the kind of man you'd want to spend eternity with, and he made you laugh. Your friends always said he made you less stiff.
You met Folu the same day you met Austin. He was the really handsome social prefect who showed you how to handle the beaker in the chemistry lab. When everything was scary and irritating, he made you feel like you could do anything. He even managed to win self-righteous, prim, and proper aunt Margaret whom no one has ever seen her ankles.
There were times when you thought he was just too good to be true, times when you would break things off with him just because his love was overwhelming and you needed time to breathe. And even if you never admitted it to him, he was your “first” everything. He made you so proud that you sometimes felt so small compared to him. He made you so happy that you felt depressed and suicidal during your first breakup. He was everything to you, and now he was gone.
He was gone, and he left you with nothing; his parents made sure of that. Since you were not legally married to him, you couldn't lay any claim to even his favorite shirt or his favorite cologne. You had nothing to hold on to, nothing to remind you of his scent, his laughter, and sometimes his tears. Your last memory of him was something you'd rather forget. The accident had occurred late at night, so no one discovered the body until the next afternoon.
According to the doctors, his head had been crushed so badly that you couldn't recognize him. The truck driver had hit him and reversed twice on his head before he ran away. It made you more angry than sad. He didn't even die the way he wanted; he always said he'd die holding his most revered collection of Cary Grant's movies. That's why, regardless of the looks and sniggers from his old and bitter aunts, you snuck the entire collection into his casket.
A tap on your shoulder brings you back to the party. You look up to see Austin looking down at you with concern, and you smile at him to let him know you are fine. He is looking everywhere except at you when he asks if you wouldn't mind playing the piano on the podium. You let your eyes follow his eyes, and you see Beatrice trying to act subtly, but you know she was the one who suggested it.
Deciding not to let people look at you with pity, you take the hand Austin was offering and climb the stage. The piano looked like a dream with its soft blue cover and the newly painted keys. You sigh softly and settle down on the black stool. The only song in your head is the piece Folu had sworn would be played when you walk down the aisle. It's the only song you've tolerated since his death. You have played it so many times that you just let your fingers play from memory. You look around the room and you notice everyone dancing slowly and some like no one was watching.
You suddenly remember a night like this during one of the dinner parties at Mummy "Fragrance's" mansion. Someone had asked if people who were dead could really watch us from above. You remember that Folu had looked so serious that you were almost certain he knew he was about to die. He had insisted that you promise to not lose yourself if he died. You had laughed it off, saying you had rubbed off on him seeing as he was being so serious. You smile and increase the speed of the piece you are playing.
You know that almost half of the people dancing and laughing right now, have lost someone and in some cases people that were special to them. They had thrown tantrums and grieved in their own way, yet they were here laughing without a care in the world. It has been a year since Folu died, and you just knew that it was time to move on and be a woman he would be proud of because where his story ends, yours must begin.
