Chapter Two.
The Past.
Tiaraoluwa.

When your life is built on a foundation of lies, it needs constant maintenance. Lies always need to be backed up by many more and everyone will agree that it is such a hassle. However, living my false self seems the easiest thing to do. Well, when you exclude the rare moments my mother unknowingly interfered with my fables.

When people don't know where you are truly from, it is quite easy for them to make assumptions about your background. Imagine wearing fanciful clothes to church every Sunday? Or going to one of the best and most expensive private schools in your locality? It's a big deal. Lots of people become envious and can only assume one thing; you're from a wealthy family.

However, once people got closer they began putting two and two together. For instance no one ever saw us (myself and family) drive off in our car but Keke maruwa. But you know me, I had cooked up fallacies to fill the plot hole so no one asked questions about my wealthy status except Solomon who knew the real me.

The first time we met was at the pre-teenagers' church at RCCG. He was new to the environment and had walked in with a look of annoyance and confusion. There was only one seat left and it happened be next to me. We didn't really talk. He had just asked a few questions and told me he had an older brother and a younger sister and I told him the same. We had laughed at the fact that the age gap between his brother and my sister was a year which by the way was the same with us and his younger sister and my younger brother.

Somehow, we happened to be neighbours and our mothers became best of friends so I distanced myself from him by avoiding conversations. I hated the relationship between our mothers more than anything in the world because that made him know my family was anything but rich. His parents drove us to church and from church on Sundays and soon enough we became regulars at their house on Sunday evenings. Once they'd visited our house and it had been the most awkward situation ever.

I had leaned on the wall watching Solomon as he looked around the living room. His eyes had wandered from the poor metal door to the cheap ceramic tiles, then settled on the space above the TV. stand. He had looked at the battered settee that he was sharing with his brother and then we'd locked eyes. For some reason, all I could feel was the judgement. I had averted my gaze and had met with his brother's. I had seen on that face the look of irritation at the environment. The only people who had not seemed to mind the poor environment had been their mother and sister. My fingers had twitched uncomfortably; my throat had become tight. I don't know why, but my eyes had threatened to betray my will not to cry. Was it because I had felt insecure? Or was it jealousy at the stark comparison between our standards of living?

I had also met their father who was always in and out of the country. I did not like him because he had the arrogance of a rich man who took pride in charity and a proud and immodest form of humility. I'm not sure if you understand what I mean but there's no better way I can explain it. Let me try putting it another way.

You know all those rich people who are overly generous but make you feel less than them because you aren't well off? They make it clear to you that... I don't know how to explain it. Simply put, their humility lacks humility.

Anyways, I had made all attempts to avoid Solomon and I had noticed Iwalewa, my sister had done the same with his brother, Andrew. Unlike my relationship with Solomon which had always been awkward due to my wounded pride, the relationship between my sister and Andrew was non existent. It was only between our mothers, my younger brother and his sister that there was nothing amiss.

I remember one Sunday we had visited their place for a movie night. His older brother had excused himself to study for a test while Solomon had snuck away silently. Halfway through the movie, his mother had noticed his absence and shouted had his native name but had gotten no response.

"Can one of you go upstairs and help me call Solomon?"

Immediately, mother shot Iwalewa a look. "You should go."

I knew it was going to happen. Mother did not want Iwalewa, who was more womanly than I was, to be up alone with two boys for even a minute irrespective of their upbringing.

I had no choice but to succumb so I had taken my time to prepare myself mentally as I had walked out of the living room that screamed elegance with its all-white decor. I had counted my steps up the magnificent stairs whose railings seemed to be made of actual gold.

After climbing the steps, I had found myself in a large expanse which could as well be an apartment. There was another dining table upstairs where Andrew sat with a controller in his hand and textbooks in his front. Solomon had been lying down on the couch in the sitting area, a controller also in his hands. The TV screen showed they were playing a football game.

"FIFA 2019?" I had asked subconsciously staring at the game. I had watched them battle against each other but one team seemed to be doing nothing anymore.

"You're losing concentration!" Andrew had said to his brother. "oh, what do you want?" He had looked irritated.

I had gasped lightly; my face hot as I realized Solomon had been staring at me for far too long. I had forgotten why I was there for a moment. "Um, your mom said I should call you," I had finally said.

"Ah okay," He had replied, dropping the controller. "How did you know it was FIFA 2019 by the way? The game only came out last month" He had asked as we walked down the stairs together.

"Because my family doesn't own a TV doesn't mean I-"

"Don't take it that way," He had said placing one hand on my shoulder. "It's just rare to see a girl who seems genuinely interested in football. And you always come stand at the balcony when my brother and I are playing football actually."

"Oh."

Throughout the rest of the movie, Solomon had started making attempts to hold conversations with me but I was uninterested. Something in me had just kept screaming- he pities you that's why until my mother had decided to subtly mention my prowess in art.

I don't know about yours, but a lot of parents love to gloat about their children's achievements to their friends - while they scream profanities like "why are you so useless?" at home.

Solomon saw an open door.

"Can Tiaraoluwa help me with my art project during the week? I don't know how to get creative with matchsticks. The one I did before looked very bad."

I wound up helping him. We had worked on the project together in silence keeping our eyes and most importantly our fingers away from each other. He asked me a few questions and we made small talk while I remained unethused. I can't really remember much but when I was about to leave one day we realized we had both been locked in by the security guard who was nowhere to be found and his brother couldn't find his own key.

Like you've probably guessed, we sort of bonded over it and we became as tight as the curls on my head. I never had any other friend like him except Kainye who was like Solomon in many ways but also very different. They had the same lively spirit; they had every thing in common except soccer. Kainye knew my life wasn't all roses and sunshine but he also didn't know how deep that went like Solomon did. Kainye and I were great friends always there for each other when things were tough but there was this line or boundary stopping us from actually confiding our deepest and darkest secrets. I knew a little about his parents; he barely knew of my problems. We kept it that way to avoid being uncomfortable around each other. The same way it was comfortable between him and Rita. I never told Solomon about the deep and dark side of my life- like my parents, but somehow he just knew. I had secrets I couldn't hide from him no matter how much I tried. Solomon also provided me with certain distractions Kainye never spared me. Somewhere along the line of our friendship- Solomon and I shared a romantic moment. It had started as a playful fight and then it had happened. A kiss that had led his hands up my shirt stopping just beneath breasts. He had taken my breath away.

It wasn't awkward like you'd actually think or even expect. We talked about it afterwards. I told him I was fine with just making out. He wasn't fine at first - for reasons I could not fathom but he told me it was better than nothing at all. He asked why and I told him the truth. It was a good distraction. A distraction I had never ever felt so satisfied with. It was better than art, calligraphy, soccer, singing or even showing some of my contortion skills to freak people out. Maybe it was because I was new to all of that but I never found a more satisfying distraction until much later.

We were young, still going through puberty but we used that to explore each other- although we never went as far as sex.

When he relocated to Abuja. A few days after, we had a huge fight. I met other boys; tried the same things I had don with Solomon; took things a bit further as I had grown up but it wasn't the same. Nothing could ever compare to what I had shared with Solomon.

The only thing left was pleasure.

I'd like to add that I wish everything ended with Solomon moving out of Lagos but much later when our time together had started to seem like a distant past, he appeared again in my life.