Every Shade Of Mayo

Two

(This chapter is dedicated to @MoroseWOrdss)

The noise from the bus was ravenous and loud, unlike the yellow Lagos bus Nigeria is mostly prized for, Rivers state had it's own color for public vehicles like this. They were all identical, the same run down moving piece of scrap metal in the color white and blue.

The traffic to work was pretty troublesome, it was way too early for this but there was no way around this since the state's acclaimed governor has decided to take upon himself building flyovers instead fixing up most of the terrible roads in the states. Sometimes I wondered if these leadership figures didn't have responsible advisers, well that's if they didn't decide to siphon the money allocated for that into their own pockets.

I click my tongue as my mind drifted into the territories of the political system of this country, A boundary I have always refused to cross. My rules were never to think too deeply into matters like this or engage in such conversation so I say a small prayer to God for not allowing me to land in a vehicle that had overzealous political enthusiasts.

I busy myself with searching my totebag for my phone, I precisely picked out this bag for today because it had a zip and it was deep enough for me to tell when someone else other than me decides to take tour inside it.

9:23AM, the time read and I sigh, hoping halfhearted that there would be some kind of movement soon. I subtly thank Twitter for updating me on the morning traffic unless I would've been stuck paying an Uber fee thrice the amount I spend on food during my lunch break.

It can be like that sometimes, I mean one day you are taking a private cab to work and the next day you're fighting for your life to get a seat on a germ ridden half standing vehicle that might probably lead to your death.

Well, today was one of those days, one of those days where I cherished every moment I had a chance to take a private cab because I was currently stuck between a bulky man who's fairly neat and an old man that could possibly be carrying a virus as to why he was coughing so sporadically and stunk of poor hygiene.

I tried as much as possible to not look in his direction each time he stuck his hand up his nose and picked it before going back to holding tightly on the head rest of the front seat. I could die from this.

This should be the least of my worries, what I'm supposed to be focused is how I would convince my boss that me taking two weeks sabbatical after the Christmas break we were given was for the good of the Firm and my productivity at work and not just the unavoidable urge to slack off and take time to myself.

I wouldn't have needed the extra break if I had ignored Celia's invitation to come spend Christmas with her. Because Celia is strong willed and very persistent, she found a way to make me come over for a Christmas reunion with her family but my then slow to understanding brain didn't pick up on the danger signs.

Being at that reunion meant having to converse with older people and family members I have been avoiding, it meant being persecuted all over again for my choice in life and my sexuality and above all, it meant I would be the same room as my mother whom I had barely held a full conversation with for more than twenty minutes face to face.

It's was nerve racking and painful to go through. Most especially when Celia claimed not to expect them to still be so judgmental and try to stand up for me most of the time but not failing to remind everyone that I was now single and I'm as interested in men as much as I'm interested in women. It stung, I felt the tears almost spring up as realization hit me that Celia, even though being best friends all our lives, still somewhat didn't completely accept my relations with the same gender.

I do understand she does fear for my well-being and she wants the best for me but at least she should not make it so vivid that she preferred me with the opposite gender. Sometimes I wished she worried less and accepted more, I think that was the same problem my mother had.

I ended up hiding in her parents storeroom, drinking red wine and trying to mute the sound of people all over the house.

That experience scarred me and I needed to heal from it, heal from the time I spent locked up alone in that musky storeroom, drinking and reminiscing on the time I spent with my ex whom I wasn't too sure I was over yet or would ever be over.

The honking of car horns brings me out of my train of thoughts and I'm being beckoned on in the rudest manner by the conductor to alight from their vehicle because we had finally gotten to the bus stop.

I rush out of the vehicle as fast as possible and almost forget to pay the bus fare only to remember when the rough hand of the conductor stops me and I start scrambling through my bag for change to give him as he rants about how people think they are smart and keeps trying to run off without paying the fee and how fuel price is too high for people to hitchhike.