I sat on my bed all alone, weeping my eyes out. I still couldn’t believe the tragic news. I dragged my tear-soaked bedsheets and wiped my eyes and nose with it, but that couldn’t stop my nose from running. I kept sniffing to hold back anymore catarrh.
The memories of him kept ringing a bell on my head! I had no choice than to write. I’m a writer and writing gives me peace, most notably when I write about myself. I stood up, opened my drawer, picked up a pen, and grabbed my diary.
Only a few pages where remaining but I still wanted to write:
My name is Gabriel, and I’m a twin with a girl. Her name is Gabriella. We are quite identical. We were born in a devoted Christian family where both parents are deacons until dad died when we were twelve years old.
My family was against gays. My religion, my friends, my pastor, and almost everyone around me was against it too. The church often reminded me how homosexuals would rot in hell for eternity!
I started noticing that I was attracted to guys when I was 17. I was the teenage choirmaster, young and vibrant. I didn’t describe myself. I will now. I’m 24 years old, tall, slim, slightly effeminate, fair in complexion and strikingly cute.
So noticing my weird feelings made me sick, since I knew everyone was against the abominable way of living. Anytime I crushed on a guy, and I would rebuke myself and fast for three days while praying fervently for God’s intervention. But nothing changed.
I kept my feelings a secret and refused to believe who I am. When I got an admission into Michael Okpara University, Umudike, I still preserved that churchy self of mine and I met David in the Student Campus Fellowship.
David was a charming dark guy, extremely generous when it comes to me and very stingy to others. You can imagine!
Everyone knew David to be a stingy guy (aka gum) and therefore saw it fruitless to ask him for anything.
I liked him as a brother, and we became close. I found out he wasn’t as religious as I was. He loved beer and had five girlfriends. Dave was three years older than me, and yet he treated me like I am a five-year-old. He would hold my hand any time we were crossing the main roads and would advise me to use the walk over any time he wasn’t around! I found it funny and crazy.
My sister gained admission into another science-based university, so I had to live alone. Dave asked me to move into his self- content. But I refused because I was afraid of his wealthy parents being against him sharing the lodge they paid for him alone as their only son. But the guy won’t take no for an answer.
I moved in and made sure I was helpful to him. I did everything at his house. Dave stopped buying food outside because he loved my cooking. He would ask me to sing for him, which I gladly did.
I was against one thing he does, which was bringing his babes to the house. I found it irritating, or maybe I was jealous after all. But why won’t I be jealous when his female friends were moaning and screaming like someone trapped in a burning house. I couldn’t help but imagine what his dick would look like (something I had never thought of before). I would fix a gaze at him anytime he was on his tight underwear or was coming out of the bathroom with a towel on his waist.
I knew I was running mad and deep inside me; I knew I have fallen in love with him. As usual, I packed a few of my things after seven days of fasting and rebuking the demons within me, and I left.
I went to squat with my female best friend, Ijeoma, who stayed off-campus. I couldn’t stand the sight of Dave. I was ashamed knowing that I love him when I couldn’t even tell if his character towards me was brotherly or if he genuinely loves me back.
Dave tried all he could to bring me back, but I unwillingly had to avoid him even at school. After a month of me avoiding him, Ijeoma told that Dave was ill.
“Have u seen him recently? She asked
“Nope. Why ask?
“Dave is now a shadow of himself,” she said “He seems to be losing something he cherished… maybe u should go see him be certain about what I said”
“I will,” I told her within a breath.
I went to Dave’s house the next day. His apartment was a shadow of its former self- very messy and unkempt. I went in and found Dave sitting alone while looking into space.
My heart melted. Indeed he has now resembled a scarecrow. I stood at the door, transfixed.
“Dave,” I called out to him when I found my voice.
He didn’t reply neither did he move. I called him again. This time he stared and smiled as tears ran down from one of his eyes. I immediately hugged him, and he held me so tight that I could feel his heartbeat from my chest.
“Why did you leave me?” he asked tearfully
Knowing fully well that I have no answer to his question I replied “I’m sorry “
“Please come back, please I’m sick, and I need you “he pleaded
“I’m back now. I’m here for you “I said while sobbing
“Don’t cry, please, I love you,” he said and kissed me. No doubts it was heavenly as I kissed him back.
Then I heard my pastor screaming in my head!
” You will rot in hell, you fag!!!”
And I replied to him, still in my thought. “Fuck you, you dirty asshole pastor, get lost from my head!!!”
We stopped kissing, and I sat close to him. “Bad guy, lover boy!” I said and hit his shoulder jokingly.
He smiled and called me a thief for stealing his heart.
Later on, he told how he fell in love with me at first sight- he was bisexual, mainly into girls, but he felt differently when he met me. He wanted to conceal his love for me by bringing girls home.
I later did everything, cleaned everywhere, and cooked. I also made sure he took his typhoid malaria drugs. After a week of returning, Dave got back to his real self, looking cuter and clean-shaven. We shared our love but didn’t have sex. He was loyal too.
When I was in my final year (by then Dave had graduated, but we were still very much together), I fell ill and was diagnosed with both kidney failures.
My family and church were devastated as the doctor said I need an urgent kidney transplant.
My twin couldn’t give up her kidney. Mum too, was scared to give me one of hers. Our pastor stopped visiting me when I asked him to give me his kidney as my family was afraid to. I resigned to die.
Dave was always by my side. He was the only one I refused telling to give me his kidney. He prayed with me and consoled me. He made me laugh despite my condition.
A week later, I remember being prepared for the theatre. I was curious, but the doctor refused to answer any of my questions. A nurse searched for my vein and injected a syringe of anesthesia into it. And I went off.
After a successful transplant, I noticed strange behaviors from my family, and this has nothing to do with being ashamed; they were hiding something from me.
Weeks went, and Dave never visited me. I was discharged yesterday, and my mum just told me that Dave died four days after giving me his kidney.
I’m so sorry Dave,
I caused your untimely death.
I will forever be grateful as long as I live.
Sleep in peace, my love.
Yours and always.
Support the writer by dropping your comments and sharing this post!
© No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission from the author.