My Toxin

Chapter 12

The taxi pulled away from the pub, and I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window. The city lights blurred into streaks of orange and white, matching the whirlwind of thoughts racing through my mind. Marjorie's words replayed on an endless loop, each one striking a different chord of frustration, hurt, and guilt. Kemi's cold, calculated advice hadn't helped either. I needed space—not just from Marjorie but from everything. The air around me felt suffocating, and I knew if I didn't step away, I'd unravel completely.

As soon as I got home, I kicked off my shoes, grabbed a bottle of water, and flopped onto the sofa, staring at the ceiling. My phone sat on the coffee table, buzzing occasionally with notifications I didn't bother checking. After a while, I grabbed it, scrolled through my contacts, and stopped at Ayo's name. He'd been nagging me to come to Birmingham for what felt like forever, and I'd always put it off—too busy with university, Marjorie, or some other excuse. But now, I had no excuse. If ever there was a time to escape, it was now.

The phone rang twice before Ayo's unmistakably enthusiastic voice answered. "Yo, what you saying, Broski?"

I let out a small laugh despite myself. Ayo had that effect on people. "Thinking about coming to Birmingham this weekend. You free?"

"You know I'm free for you, man!" Ayo said, his excitement palpable. "Come through, I've been telling you to stop acting like a hermit. It's about time!"

The next morning, I packed a bag and hit the road. The further I drove from the city, the lighter I began to feel. The open roads stretched ahead of me, a welcome contrast to the confined spaces of my thoughts. The sun peeked through a thin layer of clouds, casting a warm glow over the rolling hills and scattered villages I passed. By the time I reached Birmingham, a small part of me already felt more at ease.

The Airbnb I booked was a charming two-bedroom flat in the city centre. It had high ceilings, large windows that let in plenty of light, and sleek, minimalist furniture. It felt clean and modern—exactly the change of scenery I needed. After dropping my bag in one of the bedrooms, I sent Ayo my location.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. "Of course, your posh ass rented an Airbnb," Ayo teased as soon as I answered. "What's wrong with my accom? Too humble for you?"

I chuckled, settling onto the plush sofa. "What, your sardine-sized student digs? You want us to share a bed, yeah?"

"Bro, you wish," Ayo shot back, laughing. "Alright, I'm on my way. Don't get too comfortable."

When Ayo arrived, his energy lit up the space. He pulled me into a tight handshake-turned-hug, grinning from ear to ear. "Welcome to Brum, my guy! Tonight, we're living it up. None of this brooding energy—leave all that behind."

True to his word, Ayo wasted no time organising a house party. By the evening, the flat was buzzing with people I'd never met, all of them radiating the carefree energy I desperately needed. The air smelled of spiced rum, citrusy cocktails, and perfume. The playlist—afrobeats, dancehall, and soca—blared through the speakers, and I found myself unconsciously nodding to the beat, even if I didn't recognise most of the songs.

Ayo didn't let me sulk in the corner for long. He grabbed my phone and tucked it into his pocket with a grin. "This night is about you having fun, bro. No distractions."

I reluctantly agreed, letting him drag me further into the fray.

Later in the evening, Ayo introduced me to Chanel, a light-skinned girl with perfectly coiled curls and a reserved demeanour.

"Broski, this is Chanel. Chanel, Alex. Both of you are killing the vibe—go upstairs and talk or something," Ayo joked, giving me a playful shove.

I rolled my eyes but played along, following Chanel up the narrow staircase. The music grew muffled as we reached the second floor and found a quieter room. A single lamp cast a warm glow over the space, and we sat opposite each other, the initial awkwardness palpable.

"So, Chanel," I began, attempting small talk. "How do you know Ayo?"

"He's in one of my classes," she replied flatly. "He insisted I come to this party."

I chuckled. "Yeah, that sounds like him."

Eventually, the conversation flowed more naturally, touching on university life and future plans. Somewhere along the line, I found myself opening up.

"I'm here to get away from some drama, honestly," I admitted. "There's this girl—Marjorie. She's... amazing, but things have been complicated lately."

Chanel's expression softened, her tone more understanding. "Complicated how?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "It feels like I'm always misunderstanding her. I'm trying to understand her world, her experiences as a Black woman, but it's overwhelming. I thought I knew her—her quirks, her habits—but there's this whole side of her I'm just starting to see."

Chanel nodded thoughtfully. "That's hard, but it sounds like you care enough to try. That's a start. Relationships, especially interracial ones, come with layers most people don't think about. My parents are in one, and even after decades, they're still navigating those challenges."

Her words hit me, grounding me in a way I hadn't expected. "Do you think it's possible to get it right?"

"Possible? Yes. Easy? No," she said with a small smile. "But if Marjorie's worth it, then it's worth the effort. Just... don't expect her to always teach you. Educate yourself, too. It'll mean a lot more."

I nodded, letting her words sink in. "Thanks, Chanel. I needed to hear that."

The night wound down with laughter and lighthearted moments. Chanel and I even had an impromptu dance-off to the muffled music downstairs, our awkward moves eventually giving way to genuine fun.

The next day, after clearing out the remaining party guests, Ayo dragged me to his barber shop. It was a lively space filled with loud banter, debates about football, and the hum of clippers. While Ayo got his haircut, I got pulled into a card game with some of the regulars—and lost £250 before I even realised what had happened.

When it was my turn in the chair, I trusted the barber completely, and the result was worth it. The sharp lines and clean fade transformed my appearance.

"Is that you, yeah?" Ayo teased, grinning as we left the shop. "Marjorie won't be able to keep her hands off my bro!"

By Sunday evening, I felt like a new man—literally and figuratively. As Ayo and I did our signature handshake, I thanked him.

"Anytime, Broski," he said, smirking. "But I still think Chanel's the better match. You're a simp, man."

I laughed, flipping him off as I got into my car. The drive back home was peaceful, the sunset painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson. For the first time in weeks, I felt clear-headed.

I wasn't ready to give up on Marjorie, but I understood now that loving her meant more than just being there—it meant growing, learning, and putting in the effort to truly understand her.

As I pulled into my parking space, I exhaled deeply, a sense of purpose settling over me. I was ready to face whatever came next.