At some point, I stop crying, not because I’ve accepted my fate. I think my body simply gets tired, there’s only so much panic one person can produce.
I am still sitting on the floor beside the bed, the expensive carpet beneath me is wet from my tears. I don’t know how long I’ve been there.
Ten minutes?
Thirty?
An hour?
I genuinely have no idea, time feels strange. I just know that my eyes hurt, my head hurts, and my entire future looks like it has packed its bags and left me.
I take a deep breath, then another. I need to stand up, I need to find my phone and I need to call somebody.
The police.
An ambulance.
Jesus Himself.
Anybody.
Slowly, I pick myself up from the floor, my legs are shaky. I wipe my face with the sleeve of the oversized shirt I’m wearing, the shirt suddenly feels ridiculous. One minute ago, it felt romantic, now it feels like evidence.
I look around, trying to remember where I left my phone, then my eyes land on him again.
Mofe.
Still lying there, still too still and suddenly, fresh tears fill my eyes. Honestly, this boy has finished my life. Completely.
I look at him and another sob escapes my throat…“Why now?” I whisper, as if he’s going to answer me, as if dead people reply. I wipe my face again, then I stare at him and that’s when it happens. A movement…tiny…almost nothing.
I freeze.
No.
I blink, maybe my eyes are tired.
I stare harder.
Then I see it again.
His hand moves, I stop breathing.
No.
No, no, no.
I have officially lost my mind.
That’s it.
Shock has finished me, I am hallucinating.
I knew it.
This is how people break mentally and I have entered my own episode.
Then…His head moves.
I nearly collapse.
And slowly…very slowly…Mofe opens his eyes. He looks directly at me, smiles, stretches his arms and yawns. Yawns, as if he has just had the best sleep of his life.
I don’t move.
I don’t blink.
I don’t breathe.
He smiles again.
“Morning.”
I scream.
A proper scream, the kind of scream people hear in horror films.
I turn and run. I don’t know where I’m going, I just know I need to get away from whatever this is because dead people are not supposed to wake up.
I run out of the room.
I hear movement behind me.
Then footsteps.
Then…
“Tolani!”
I scream again.
I almost slip.
I run into the kitchen.
Strong hands grab my arm.
I turn around wildly.
He’s there.
Alive, breathing, standing and looking confused.
I scream again.
“Don’t touch me!”
I start hitting him.
Actually hitting him.
“You were dead!”
I push him.
“You were dead!”
Another push.
“I cried!”
Another push.
“I accepted prison!”
I hit his chest.
“I accepted that my parents would disown me!”
Another hit.
“I already started planning my funeral!”
At this point, I am crying again. He grabs my wrists gently.
“Tolani.”
“No!”
“Tolani.”
“No!”
“I am alive.”
“No!”
“I promise.”
“No!”
He actually starts laughing. I look at him in disbelief.
“This isn’t funny!”
“I’m sorry.”
“You died!”
“I didn’t die.”
“You absolutely died!”
“I didn’t.”
“You were cold!”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were not breathing!”
“I was.”
“You looked dead!”
He pauses.
“Okay… that one happens.”
I stare at him.
“What?”
He sighs, then rubs the back of his neck.
“I have a medical condition.”
I blink.
“What?”
“I have a condition.”
I blink again.
“What condition makes people look dead?”
He actually thinks about it, then says,
“A very inconvenient one.”
I almost cry again. He sees my face and immediately stops joking.
“No, seriously.”
He gently leads me to a chair, I sit because my legs have given up on life. He kneels in front of me.
“I have a sleep disorder.”
I stare at him.
“Sometimes when I’m deeply relaxed, my body slips into a state that’s… well… unusual.”
“Unusual?”
“Death-like.”
I blink.
“Death-like?”
He nods.
“My breathing becomes very shallow. My heartbeat slows down significantly.”
I continue staring.
“My family knows about it.”
“Your family knows you die occasionally?”
He laughs.
“I don’t.”
He quickly becomes serious again.
“I don’t die.”
“You absolutely did.”
“I promise I didn’t.”
I fold my arms, I don’t trust anything anymore.
He sighs.
“It doesn’t happen often. Usually only when I’m extremely relaxed.”
Then a mischievous smile appears on his face.
“Which means last night must’ve been very good.”
I continue staring.
He waits.
Nothing.
Not even a smile.
His own smile slowly disappears.
“Oh.”
I nod.
“Oh.”
“You’re still upset.”
“Upset?”
I nearly stand up.
“Upset?”
I point at him.
“I spent the last hour believing I killed one of the richest men in Lagos!”
I stand up.
“I cried so much I nearly dehydrated!”
I point at myself.
“I already imagined myself explaining this to my parents.”
I point at him again.
“I saw my graduation disappear.”
I point dramatically around the condo.
“I even said goodbye to this house!”
He bursts out laughing.
I glare at him.
He tries to stop.
Fails.
Then he notices I am genuinely traumatized.
The laughter dies.
He slowly stands.
“I’m sorry.”
I don’t answer.
“I really am.”
I don’t answer.
He reaches for my hand.
I pull it away.
He reaches again.
This time I let him hold it.
“I’m sorry.”
I sigh, I don’t even have energy to be angry anymore. Then he notices the coffee.
“Wait…”
He picks up the cup.
“You made coffee?”
I shrug.
“For me?”
I shrug again.
He takes a sip, then looks at me.
“This is actually good.”
I don’t know why, but hearing that makes me smile, just a little.
He notices.
“There she is.”
I quickly stop smiling, he laughs softly. Then, without saying anything, he pulls me into a hug.
I freeze, then slowly relax. I can hear his heartbeat, a very alive heartbeat. Thank God. I never thought I would be happy to hear somebody’s heartbeat.
I close my eyes, the last hour suddenly catches up with me.
The fear.
The crying.
The panic.
The relief.
Everything.
I start laughing, a strange laugh. The kind people laugh when they’ve survived something ridiculous. He starts laughing too, soon we’re both laughing. And I remember something.
An hour ago…
On this same floor…
I was praying.
Praying seriously.
I promised God many things. I said if He brought me out of this situation, I would focus only on my studies.
No more distractions.
No more rich boys.
No more romance.
I would be a good daughter.
A responsible student.
I even promised to graduate with distinction.
I promised everything.
Everything.
Now…
I’m standing in this beautiful kitchen, in this expensive condo, in the arms of a man I thought was dead almost an hour ago…and all I can think is…
How exactly do I explain to God that I would like to amend our agreement? Just slightly, because surely…surely…one more chance with Mofe can’t hurt. Can it?