Julia
If she was honest, she was a little worried about the fact that one of the most exciting things about book club was seeing him. More than a little concerned. Her face broke into a huge smile that she couldn’t contain when she saw him. Her only saving grace was he wasn’t looking in her direction, sparing her all manner of embarrassment. Julia schooled her expression into something more respectable when she got closer to their little circle.
Someone spotted her and they all turned to face her, she watched him smile and felt the warmth of it spread all over her. She hugged the girls and offered her hand to the guys. Someone said they’d been waiting for one more person to start, and now that she was here, they could begin.
They took their places on the grass in a loose circle.
“Hey,” Arthur said, sitting next to her, smiling even though she’d just greeted him along with everyone else. “How’ve you been?”
“Good,” She sighed, reconsidering. She smiled weakly. “Meh. More okay than good.”
He nodded, “Sorry, hope this coming week is better.” He said in a rush, turning his attention to the day’s leader as she called the meeting to attention.
They spent the next hour and twenty minutes discussing their latest read, Know My Name by Chanel Miller. They only read books by African authors but had made an exception that November in honour of 16 Days of Activism. Chanel’s was one of the most highly recommended books by a victim of sexual assault. Usually, the mood was boisterous, with arguments flying back and forth, and people talking over each other in excitement. Today, it was sombre, muted, people, talking about crying and crying and crying while reading the book.
As the discussion progressed, she wished they’d separated into men and women. She wanted to hear the girls speak, unfiltered, not measuring their words to protect the feelings of the men in their company. She’d talk to the girls, and see if they could set something up just for them after this.
She rubbed her arms to ward off the sudden chill as the sun set. He tapped her arm, handing her his long-sleeved shirt. She wanted to tell him she had a sweater in her bag, instead, she took it with a smile and slipped it on, trying not to be obvious as she took in his scent. The leader of the day called the meeting to a close, and they started sharing out the different snacks everyone had brought as the conversation flowed.
“What stood out for you?” She asked as they munched biscuits on the outer edges of the rest of the group.
He paused for a moment. “I think how something so seemingly small can change everything for someone. What he did at first seemed…” Like, I registered it was terrible, horrendous I just never could have guessed it would change her entire life, her personality.” He was choosing his words carefully. “I guess part of me at first was like, it was just fingering like it was horrible and indefensible obviously but it seemed small compared to what could have happened but the way it messed up her entire life… I wasn’t ready for that. That surprised me. Then you factor in the millions of women dealing with all these different harms from men, small and big. Actually, there’s nothing small about the ways men hurt women. It was a real eye-opener. How about you?”
She nodded, considering his response. “I guess more than anything, it reminded me how safety is an illusion for women and all the systems we have in place exist to protect the powerful, whether they’re men or rich or white. There’s just no winning.”
Julia could tell he was at a loss of what to say, fought the impulse to jump in and diffuse the tension, and eased his discomfort.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah. I got that too. Easily one of the worst realizations.”
She nodded.
“Guys, come look at this,” one man said, gesturing at them to join the main circle.
They stood around the circle, eyes glued on the phone playing the clip that had been making the rounds that week, a leaked video of a prominent politician speaking about how he would have handled the youth-led protests that had swept over the nation in the past month.
“I would have killed more,” the man on screen swore, eyes wide open, veins popping. “They are complaining about a few dozen dead, I would have littered the streets with all their bodies. Ungrateful, immature children who think they can tell us how to run the country. They will know sisi si mama zao. We’re not their mothers. Hiyo utoto wapelekee kwao.”
“Fuck these politicians, wallahi.” Julia cussed and others mimicked the sentiments.
Arthur
Arthur was happy for his sister, he really was. A PhD in Linguistics was nothing to scoff at. It was just that he found it difficult to sustain any positive emotions when his father was present. The photographer had singled him out twice for not smiling and so now he was occupied with the task of faking a smile that didn’t look too fake or worse, creepy. He cast his gaze wide, taking in the beautiful campus and telling himself to smile at all that natural beauty. Soon their photo session at the library steps was done. Thank God.
They spent the rest of the afternoon working on their London tour itinerary as they ate at a cosy Italian restaurant that his sister said she’d been dying to try out. His father was, as expected, not impressed by it. He liked things big, ostentatious, loud. He only acquiesced because they were celebrating her. Any other day he would not even have wasted time listening to their ideas.
Arthur dug into his obscenely delicious Italian pasta, the war between the pleasure and his discomfort fierce. He decided he wouldn’t go with them on the London tour. He’d have to come up with a lie for each day and would have to face his sister’s disappointment. She’d understand though. It was nothing new. He wasn’t good at enjoying the pleasures high society afforded these days. He didn’t want to drag out that internal struggle. His insides couldn’t handle that constant triggering of his irritable bowel syndrome.
The following day, he spent the day reading the book club’s current read, My Sister the Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite. It was a smooth, entertaining read, but it took him some time to get into it, his father’s throwaway remark wondering about what kind of man had such a weak stomach playing in his mind on repeat. He took drugs for his IBS and yet his father still thought it a personal moral failing on his part that he was sick. He hated that his father’s criticism bothered him, hated that he still secretly waited for his mother to speak up in his defense every time he pounced. She didn’t, and he stayed feeling like a little kid who couldn’t understand what was happening.
He was going to miss this month’s book club. He hated it. It would fall on this weekend while he was away, while he was supposed to be enjoying the joys of London. He especially hated the fact that he wouldn’t see her. He wasn’t prepared for how attached he had become to her, how much he looked forward to seeing her. She was fast becoming one of his favourite people, which he had not planned for when he started talking to her outside the group. They were just supposed to be friends, but the feelings blooming in him had left the mere friendship zone so far back, that he didn’t even know when it happened. All he knew was not a day passed when he didn’t think of her. Fondly.
“How hilarious is this author, though? Bet you’re rooting for the doctor to be killed.” He sent the text, then sat waiting like a schmuck for her to reply.
He smiled when he saw the text bubbles. She was typing! He wanted to pump his fist in the air and dance a jig, laziness just wouldn’t unshackle him from the bed where he lay.
“You know me. Misandry flows in my blood. All I’m singing is he had it coming.” She attached a video clip from an old Nigerian movie, the singer urging other women to kill their husbands. He’d seen the clip circulating online and had to admit it was a jam.
They talked about the book, switching to voice calls when texting was slowing down their fast arguments. By the time she hung up to go back to work, he missed her so much, and wanted so much to be in her company that he considered changing his ticket and coming up with some lie to explain his out-of-character behaviour to his family.
One Month Later
Julia
Julia lay in bed reading through their text chain, laughing at his meme selection. Yeah, something was definitely brewing here. She couldn’t remember the last time she had gone through some text chain between her and a guy trying to recapture the magic of their conversation. She’d missed him at the last book club, but she was going to see him today and she could barely contain her excitement. Yeah, she had it bad. Real bad, she conceded as she dragged herself out of bed to get ready.
She took a quick shower and was well on her way, bobbing to music on her phone in less than thirty minutes. She got there early, her face falling a little when she scanned the small group and missed his silhouette. He’d assured her he was coming through, and she held on to that, trusted him.
Something was off. The mood and body language of the group was all off. She walked to the huddle, wondering why they were whispering.
“I can’t believe he lied,” someone said
The woman next to her whispered, “Have you heard?”
Julia shook her head, reaching for the phone, the woman was handing her.
“That’s his dad,” the woman said as Julia’s eyes zeroed in on a smiling Arthur standing next to what must be his mother, sister and father. The man who had threatened to beat the president’s record by killing even more young protestors. Her knees weakened, her hand shaking as she handed the phone back.
“What?” she mouthed, no sound coming out.
“I know. He lied to us all.” The woman said aloud, causing the focus to shift to the two of them.
“Are you sure you didn’t know? You guys hang out together all the time.” Someone accused.
“Look at her face,” another jumped in, “that is the picture of gobsmacked right there.”
“Oh my God, he showed his face.” Someone said, and they all turned in unison.
Her eyes landed on him, his face drawn and serious. His eyes searched the group, stopping when they got to her. She stepped back behind the taller man next to her, hiding. She didn’t care if it was cowardly. She did not want to look at him and didn’t want him looking at her.
Arthur
Arthur’s chest fell when he saw her deliberately shielding herself from him. He desperately wanted her to believe him, needed her to believe him. He should have known his attention-seeking father would have posted the pictures online. He really had expected more, assumed that because tensions were so high as people criticized the expenses of the political class he’d not post pictures of his child graduating in London. He’d underestimated his father’s callousness, yet again.
“What the fuck Arthur, are you some kind of government spy?” Someone barked, drawing his attention.
“No.” He said simply. “Not a spy.”
“What else would a spy say?“ Someone supplied.
Someone laughed sarcastically, others snickered.
“I swear, I’m not lying. I’m not a spy. I just…”
“So, then what the fuck? You’ve been coming to book club for what two years, lying the whole time? For what if not spying for your dad?”
“Yes, he’s my father.” He emphasized father refuting the dad title. “That’s it. I’m not like him. I don’t agree with anything he does. I come to book club because I like reading books and enjoy talking about them with y’all.”
“You’re a liar,” someone spit out.
“I’m not. I didn’t talk about my father because I do not talk about him, ever. There was no lie, no one here talks about their parents.” He knew it was the wrong argument the moment the words left his mouth.
“Because our parents are not fucking threatening to kill other people’s kids. That’s a stupid comparison and you know it.”
He raised his arms in surrender. “You’re right. Okay, you’re right. That’s a terrible argument. It’s embarrassing, okay? I am ashamed that he’s my father, so I don’t talk about him.”
“You just eat taxpayers’ salary in London.” Someone said. Supportive murmurs accompanied the comment.
“No one chooses their parents and I didn’t get to choose mine. I live on my own, pay my own bills, paid for my own flight to London. I’m not going to deny that I’ve benefited from what are stolen public funds that have caused untold harm to other people, I won’t deny that. I’ll just say that as soon as I could free myself from being a part of the looting, I did. I know there are a million ways I still benefit from it, but I swear to God, I try to limit it as much as I can. I don’t take money from him. I try.” He finished feeling suddenly exhausted and drained.
No one said anything, and he looked up hoping to find Julia’s eyes. She was still hidden behind the tall man.
“I like book club. I like you guys. Please don’t kick me out. But, if you feel you must, I get it. I understand. I’ll leave the group, let you guys discuss it, then you can let me know what you decide one way or another. You were real friends, and I hope you see that I didn’t mean any harm. I just wanted you to meet me, get to know the real me, not my father’s progeny and all the baggage that comes with that.”
He turned to leave, the walk to the park entrance feeling like it was forever away.
“I think we can decide now,” Someone pipped.
He turned to face them.
“Nah, face the other side. We’ll have a tiny vote, then let you know.”
He turned back facing the exit as some of his favourite people decided whether to keep associating with him. His heart was racing so fast, the only reason he wasn’t bent in two trying to catch his breath was because he didn’t want to look dramatic, look like he was playing on their feelings. They already had just cause to distrust him. He didn’t need to add to it.
“Okay, how many people are okay with having the vote now?” The person asked.
“Cool, okay. Simple majority as usual. How many people are in favour of him staying in the group?”
“Cool. Alright. Arthur, you can turn.”
Arthur turned, hands clenched behind him.
He looked for her in the crowd and exhaled softly when his eyes locked with hers.
“You can stay,” The woman who led the vote announced.
The little group gave him forgiving, accepting smiles that went straight to his tear ducts. He fought the tears valiantly if he said so himself. “Thanks,” he said as a couple of people hugged him.
“Alright, let’s get into the book. We can do the first half today and finish the rest next month.” The day’s leader said as people took their places on the ground.
Julia was seated almost directly opposite him. This was the first time in months that they were not seated together. He paid no attention to the discussion, instead playing out different scenarios in his head.
As soon as the leader called for a break and people started moving in on the snacks, he rushed to her side.
“Can we talk? Please?” He whispered, trying to attract as little attention as people.
“Okay, let’s walk.” She said, pointing at a tiny path. They disappeared into the tiny path as people behind them haggled over snacks.
She stopped where they could still see their little group without being directly seen by them.
“I am sorry that I didn’t tell you about my father. It’s just not something I talk about ever, for obvious reasons. But if you need me to elaborate, well, I guess I hate his guts, I hate the fact that we’re related, I know better than most how horrible a human being he really is and so I want no association with him. I went to London to celebrate my sister’s graduation. I just… I don’t know what to say to help you understand. It’s a crazy place to be in to….”
She raised her hands, stopping him. “You’re rambling.”
She smiled and for the first time, he felt like his feet were planted on terra firma and he wasn’t just spinning out.
“I get it, I guess.”
“Thank God,” he breathed out, stepping close, intending to hug her but stopping himself. “Thank you.”
“Sorry you have such an objectively wicked dad,” she said, giving him a hug.
He held her tight, revelling in the contact. “Father.” He corrected.
“Okay,” she maintained the hug, and he made no effort to step away.
“Can I take you on a date?” He asked.
“Yeah,” she said to his neck.
“When I saw those pictures trending online, I was sure this was going to be one of the worst days of my life.”
She pulled away. “You knew before you got here?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you?”
She shook her head. “No. I saw it here. Why’d you come while everything was still so raw? Why didn’t you wait until like next month?”
“No way I’d survive a month of not knowing if I still had my friends if I still had you.” He said, caressing her cheek.
“This could have really gone sideways,” she said.
“I know,” he said, smiling. “Look how it went, though. Still have my friends, I’m dating you.”
“Going out on one date, I’ll let you know how it goes after that date.”
“Noted. I will knock your socks off.”
“Is that right?”
“That’s right. Just you wait and see.” He said, looking into her eyes, hoping to telegraph how serious he was about her, about cherishing her. He’d just have to show her, he determined.
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