Chapter 2. Olie is not Olie

"Hey, how do I look?" Akwa asked just as she finished preening herself from the mirror. 

Nanklin hesitated, taking a lucid observation from head to toe, and even asked her to turn around. 

"You spent how long? Five minutes with the mirror and you expect to look like Rihanna? Girl you gotta be kidding."

"What? What is wrong with this?" She asked reluctantly throwing her arms down her body. 

"Everything!" Nanklin got up. "No intense make up, just your above ankle, jean trouser, light T-shirt and powder."

"You left the wet lips and snickers out."

"Right," she threw her face away, folding arms. "You didn't even make your hair, just packed it horizontally up."

Akwa walked to her and held firm her shoulders and replied, "Look, I'm not going to see a boy, I'm paying Olie a visit. And from what I know of her, she wouldn't mind, plus she really appreciates my hair packed this way. She's just natural, so I think I look just perfect."

Nanklin smiled and they embraced each other. Then they went off the road to see Akwa off. 

It was Tuesday, Akwa had to abandon her lectures just to pay her friend a visit. The eagerness was there, the anxiousness and curiosity to finally quench the long awaited dream of meeting Olivia to come true. Even in the mini town service bus, she thought of how she would be like in flesh, the interactions, activities and mostly, the first reaction on sight. All these she cudgelled as an imagination running through her head, and she just couldn't control the widen lips she had on all along. 

Standing on the door steps of the mini flat building, she took a deep breath and just about to knock her phone chimed from an incoming text. It was from Olivia, telling her to walk in when she was at the location, revealing the door was opened. Aware of the liberty she vigorously walked in, however, she was really conscious of who she might meet other than Olivia, so humbled herself, from both appearance and movement.

She walked a little bit further and in the parlor was a young, dark skinned man standing. Dressed in an accurate men's fashion long sleeves red shirt, black plain trouser, and shoes. Face slightly hairy, more of a low cut, head filled with hair but trimmed by the side to fit the one on cheeks. She stared at him for a while with silence between them till he opened up with a 'hi'.

From her body response, one could hardly tell if she was carried away staring, or actually waited for him to greet first. Either way, she made it look completely unpredictable. 

"Hey, I'm looking for a friend, Olivia. She gave me this address."

He was mute, not like he didn't heard or understood her, but almost just like the way Akwa stared at him first, he was way down lost in the void. He stared at her with lips almost closed, hands in pocket, totally absent of all contrary activities but her. Could easily be classified under lust, but beyond his looks, clearly and definitely, she was the most beautiful thing the young man had ever seen. 

"Hello." she snapped her fingers. "Is she here or do I have the wrong address?"

He startled and it was clearly predictable where he was coming from. 

"Oh yes! I mean, y-you got the right address. B-but. . . But Olie isn't here."

Her nerves calmed and she was quite dissapointed. Quickly she thought of sitting and waiting, or maybe calling her instantly. 

"So, she's not gone far maybe I can wait or something?"

He took a few steps forward to her and replied, "What I mean to say is. Frankly speaking, there's no Olivia, just me."

She gave him a strange look and scoffed.

"Maybe I should call her myself," she said. 

She immediately dialled her number and the phone rang from his pocket. He removed it, turned the screen to her and showed her the name saved which displayed 'Miss Cute'.

That really looked like a bad joke or a bad dream, but yes, it was bad but definitely not a joke or dream. She took note of the seriousness on his face, hoping it could suddenly change and probably, he would laugh and say he was kidding. But dissapointedly to her, her hopes never came to pass, rather a change occurred, but not the one she had hoped for, he became somber. 

"You mean to tell me it's been you, that Olie is a boy, not a."

"A girl," he interjected. "No, I mean yes, I'm a boy not a girl." He further moved to touch her but she shifted back. "I know this is unfair and stupid of me, but please you have to hear me out, please, Miss Cute."

"Don't call me that, ever," she pointed a finger to his face. "You're ridiculous, foolish and a jerk. What the hell am I still doing here talking to you anyway? Go to hell, Olie," she hastily made for the door. 

"Please, stop!" he raised his voice and she stopped. "Please, just hear what I have to say it's worth it. I promise you if you see it ain't worth your time you can leave anytime and never turn back. Please just, just come back and hear my own side of the story, I beg you. I promise to tell you everything, nothing but the truth. Please, I mean you nothing bad, please."

She stared outside, still holding open the door, then back at him. Probably battling between decisions. After a while, she shot the door walking slowly back to him. 

"You're right, you owe me a hell lot of explanation, a good one."

He moved away, granting her way to the parlor where she sat on a couch and him on another. 

"How about you start with your name, that's if you really have one," she unpleasantly raised. 

"My name is Jason James, from Benue State also, Tiv ethnic group. Before I started schooling here I stayed in Benue, but now, this is my home. And like I told you, I'm studying theatre arts here, I'm a writer an."

"Blah, blah, blah." she waddled her shoulders. "Right now, I really don't care who you are or what you do, cus I'm pretty sure we won't have any business after here. All I'm interested in is the explanation, why, what were you thinking, fooling me for a year and half, the ulterior motive behind your illegal act. That's what I want to know. 

He heaved a slight sigh and began, "I'm gonna tell you about me, everything, what led to it and why. Please, just don't interrupt and understand me. 

"Growing up I was so fragile, I knew nothing of what really was going on out there. Within me I was filled with imaginations and pipe dreams, I thought everything was easy, especially love. But one honest touch, everything changed. Love, I fell in love at a very tender age, fourteen. I didn't know how but it wasn't just some kid being desperate at the sight of a beautiful girl. I was in love with her but she wasn't, and with every attempt deflected I loved her more. Along I had friends, lots of them, they all loved me and me same. It took years, about five to six years, within we became close but never in a relationship, maybe we were, but as long as I can remember it was just for twenty four hours. I remember when we were out, on a New Year festival day, she said something. That first we were enemies, then partially friends, then friends, then best friends. At that point I asked her about what next, she said she doesn't know. We later on had fights, severally but resolved. And with everything that happened to me, I was heartbroken, but kept going, I sometimes counsel people's relationships, mend them, a time when I was more of myself. A short while later I became jealous, angry, what's wrong with me, I couldn't find what I desired, love, I couldn't be with the person I love, but I help others do that. What was in for me? Started seeing it as unfair. I went rogue, I changed, not like before, I wouldn't say sorry even if I was wrong. I thought that was me being strong, but it turned out it was my weakness. I lost them all, friends, true friends, I kicked them all out and before I could realize, I was all alone, the void was unbearable, I couldn't get them back. I felt pain of loneliness, I didn't know what to do. By then, I'd already gotten rid of my facebook account, and I began to miss them, no numbers to call, nothing, so created that account in disguise to add them up and at least chat with them again, without them knowing, and that was when I met you."

She exhaled, staring at him with her unpredictable look again, whether remorseful or not, but just normal. 

"Yet, you shouldn't have done that. Impersonating is wrong, honestly, there's no justification for what you did. And let me ask you, whose pictures were you using?"

 "A friend," he nervously answered. 

"Does she know?"

"Yes, I asked her first. Sorry."

"I don't even know what to say right now, Aswer you messed up real bad, I'm dissapointed in you."

"I understand how you feel about this, but I want you to know something, I wanted to tell you before now but I was scared you'd shut me out for good. I never wanted what we had going on to stop, I know it was kinda fake, but for me it isn't, I tried to be sincere as possible, other than my gender and the girlish stuffs. When I started chatting with you, I felt good and better, your words and phrases, encouragement and honesty. And everything you told me about yourself, your life and family, sorry but I wasn't taking advantage but I was touched, I felt bad. All I've ever wanted hence was to help out, be there, especially seeing how talented also you were, a writer with passion just like me."

She was quiet and only sat listening, obviously her rage had minimized and she seemed more of understanding than disagreeing. 

"But from the abyss of my heart, I'm so sorry, please forgive me and don't shut me out, I need you. Please," he added. 

"Well," she broke her mute. "From what you told me you have an interesting life, and it wouldn't hurt if I'm a part of it. But honestly, I must say it will be very difficult for me to trust you again."

"I will try to make a difference. Thanks for the shot, I really do appreciate."

"Oh!" He hyped. "You were coming so I prepared something for you, meal. Not that good but I hope you like you."

"It's fine, I'm good, really. I just want to be on my way."

"Please, don't say no," he held her hand. "All this stress just because you were coming, please."

She had no choice but to change her mind, being not any less aware how good he is with 'please' persuasive and was not going to give it up anytime soon. She could as well save both of them the stress and play along. 

"I hope you like it," he said after serving the meal. 

She observed the meal served in several dishes, fried rice with fried chicken, vegetable sliced in a plate and a bottle of salad cream just beside it. She at this moment clouded with negative thoughts towards the food and his kind gestures which accompanied it. The possibility of it being poisoned to make her vulnerable so he could gain access to her sexually, or maybe worse. This feeling was starting to freak her out and she instantly regretted why she would sheepishly visit a girl on the basis of social media intimacy. She actually began to think of herself a fool, making worse of everything, it turned out she was a boy all along and there could be no better reason to trust him. Still she zoomed it in another perspective, being it a bribe for his illegal acts, so she called it. Or, him trying to spot her weakness and exploit it which would mean she couldn't resist the gilded meal. 

"Is everything alright, Akwa?" He tapped her. 

"So, do you live here alone?" Not exactly what she really intended to ask, but anything to delay her from eating the food.

"Yes," he sat down at the other side of the table before them. "My grandfather lived here in Jos, it was his personal gift to me before he died. He knew I loved Jos so he left me this house, two bed rooms flat."

Himself wondered where had that question came from, what triggered it and what she was hoping to find at the end of the answer. Anyway, he didn't let it bother him much. 

Starved of the next question or topic to establish, she began to think of ways to revert her decision to eat the food earlier. Still finding none, she deliberately had to revisit her previous state and feign anger at the discovery of his true identity. Not like it was necessary, but she couldn't find a better reason to balance her anxiety of the already in place situation. 

"I think I should be on way. I've spent more time here than I should have," she said with a straight face. 

"But you haven't even touched your food, I made it for you," he peacefully protested. 

"I think I'll pass," she stood up, but staring at him in the face. "Olie!" she laid heavy emphasis of mockery. 

Without tagging around, she hastily made for the door and he went after her. At the door he stretched a plastic takeaway container in a polythene leather. 

"What's this?" She asked. 

"Sandwich, I toasted them specially for you. Since you wouldn't eat the food, at least you should take this one, it's really nice, you would love it, I assure you."

"You really don't know when to quit, do you?"

"Affirmative. Please."

She took it, not actually trying to make him not feel bad or because he insisted. But way before then, she had an itching urge at the sight of it, especially when it was displayed in one of the plates on the table. It was actually a win for her. 

He nevertheless reached his hand in the pocket and it kept stuck, not sure of what he is about to do is a good idea. Well, giving her money back for transportation would be nice, but what else would it imply of himself, or impression, and how would she feel or think if he actually offers her money? And what if he doesn't, after all, she wasn't going to expect transportation fare from a girl she thought she was visiting. Caught up on an edge of this decision, he just had to relax his mind on the last thought which settled it all. 

She too, didn't notice the hand which kept fondling in his pocket as he was in thoughts.

"Hey!" He called as she almost hit the street that passed before the house. "You are beautiful, prettier than you look in pictures."

She ignored, still feigning contempt. 

"Nanklin, guess what?" She raised Just after opening  the door of her room. "Olie is a guy!"

"What the f. . . No, Holy Molly!"