My Toxin

Chapter 8

A week had passed since that night with Marjorie. We both seemed to have silently agreed to act as though nothing had happened. It wasn't because of regret—I could see in her eyes that she didn't regret it. But addressing it meant opening the door to another argument, and neither of us was ready for that. I understood Marjorie well enough to know that if she felt cornered, her sharp words could cut deeper than any blade. So, I gave her the space she'd asked for, retreating into my studies and distractions while the real world continued on relentlessly.

Marjorie had recently joined a group project for one of her law modules and hadn't stopped talking about a new friend she'd made—Kemi. The way she spoke about Kemi was different, almost reverent. Kemi was bold, unapologetically opinionated, and deeply passionate about Black Lives Matter and social activism. When Marjorie invited me to an open mic night where Kemi was performing, I hesitated. It wasn't my scene, but for Marjorie's sake, I agreed to go.

The pub was warm and dimly lit, with an intimate atmosphere that made it easy to hear every murmur and clink of glasses. A small stage at the far end was illuminated by a single spotlight, casting a golden glow on Kemi as she stepped up to the microphone.

"Everyone, please welcome Kemi," the host announced, stepping aside as she adjusted the mic.

Kemi began reciting her poem, her voice commanding and raw, each word cutting through the quiet room with precision:

"In the corridors of learning, I walk alone,
A sea of faces, but none of my own.
The colour of my skin, a mark to some,
A reason for whispers, a reason to shun.

I stand tall, with head held high,
Yet inside, I fight the urge to cry.
They say, 'We're all equal,' but it's a lie,
For in their eyes, I'm just the other guy.

Their jokes and slurs, they think I don't hear,
But each word cuts deep, each glance a spear.
In classrooms of privilege, I hold my ground,
Determined to rise, not to be bound.

For every door they close, I'll find another way,
In the face of their hate, I'll seize the day.
I'll be the voice they can't ignore,
A force for change, forever more."*

The applause was thunderous. The room, previously quiet and contemplative, erupted in appreciation for Kemi's strength and vulnerability. Marjorie's pride was unmistakable as she clapped enthusiastically, and even I couldn't help but be impressed.

"That was incredible, Kemi," Marjorie gushed when we joined her at a table afterward. "You're so talented."

"Thanks, Marjie," Kemi replied warmly, using a nickname that grated on me more than it should.

"Your performance was really powerful," I added, trying to sound genuine despite my discomfort.

Kemi's polite but distant nod told me all I needed to know—she wasn't a fan of mine.

As the conversation turned to deeper topics over drinks, the tension between Kemi and me came to the surface.

"I just don't think interracial relationships can work," Kemi said bluntly, her gaze sharp as it settled on me. "A white person can never fully understand what it's like to live as a Black person. Love doesn't erase systemic racism."

I clenched my jaw but kept my voice steady. "I understand where you're coming from, but I believe love can bridge those gaps. It's about mutual respect and learning from each other."

"Learning doesn't make you an expert," she shot back. "Sympathy isn't the same as empathy, Alex. And let's be honest, most white people aren't willing to dig that deep."

Marjorie shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting between us. "Let's not turn this into a debate," she said softly, her tone almost pleading.

I forced a smile. "Of course."

The rest of the night was awkward at best. Kemi's disapproval of our relationship was palpable, and while Marjorie seemed unfazed on the surface, I could tell it weighed on her.

A few days later, an invitation from my grandparents arrived for my grandmother's birthday party in Knightsbridge. It was a formal event, and I hadn't seen them in months. I decided to invite Marjorie—it felt like the perfect way to create some distance between her and Kemi, at least for an evening.

"Hey, Marjorie," I said, handing her the elegant card. "My grandparents are hosting a birthday party this weekend. I'd love for you to come. Your parents will be there too."

Her face lit up. "I'd love to, Alex. It sounds wonderful."

The party was as lavish as I expected. My grandparents had always been known for their grand soirées. Guests milled about in designer outfits, glasses of champagne in hand, while soft classical music played in the background.

Marjorie looked stunning in a white floral dress. The corset-style top accentuated her waist, and the flowing skirt added an ethereal quality to her presence. She moved through the crowd with ease, drawing compliments and admiration wherever she went.

From the balcony, I watched her sitting with my mum, the two of them deep in conversation. My mum had formed a close bond with Marjorie, a stark contrast to the distant relationship Marjorie had with her own mother. It was a dynamic that warmed me—seeing Marjorie find a maternal figure who supported her so openly.

But my peace didn't last long.

"Alex," a familiar voice interrupted. I turned to see Eleanor, my ex, approaching with her signature confident smile.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my tone clipped.

"My parents are friends with your grandparents," she said with a shrug, her smile unrelenting. "I couldn't miss this."

I nodded curtly, already looking for a way to leave the conversation.

"I've been thinking about us," she said suddenly, her voice softening. "We had something special, Alex. I miss it—I miss you."

"Eleanor, we've been through this. It's over. Stop trying to interfere in my life," I said firmly, my patience wearing thin.

She opened her mouth to argue, but I walked away before she could get another word in.

As I re-entered the party, my eyes immediately sought out Marjorie. I found her laughing with a group of guests, her face radiant and carefree. Just seeing her grounded me, and I took a deep breath, letting my tension melt away.

I moved through the crowd toward her, determined to focus on the one person who truly mattered.