“It’s about that guy, isn’t it?” he says after a moment.
I look up, and a wave of emotions hits me, a rush of blood to the head.
“I just want to be accepted, okay! Accepted for who I am. How I look. What I believe in. I shouldn’t have to compromise myself. Including my bloody virginity. You accept me for who I am. Take it or leave it. I’m tired of changing myself.”
Donovan stares at me. My chest is heaving.
“Sorry.” I glance away. “I—I don’t know what came over me.”
“Don’t apologize,” he says. “Don’t be sorry for who you are. Or what you believe in. No woman should ever feel like they have to compromise themselves, and especially not you. Now, I don’t know what went down with you and this friend of yours, but the person you’re meant to be with will treat you like a queen.”
For some reason, this makes another tear fall. And then another.
“Aww, come on. Yinks.” He pulls me into him. I cry into his shoulders.
“I feel like I’m losing myself, Don.”
He tightens his grip, burying his chin in my hair.
“I feel like I’m losing myself, and I don’t know how to get myself back.”
What brings Yinka here today?
MONDAY
DONOVAN
Hope today goes well x
JOANNA
We’re so proud of you. x
Jacqui isn’t what I expected. Neither is the room we’re sitting in, with its warm lighting, turquoise sofa and yucca plant in the corner. On the table beside me is a glass of water and a Brita jug. Jacqui is sitting opposite me, her hair in braids, shoulders wrapped in a shawl. She’s wearing trainers—Retro New Balance with orange shoelaces.
“Now,” she says, adjusting her notepad lying on her lap. We’ve just run through the terms and conditions—things I have to commit to, like doing my “homework,” which frankly sounds a bit terrifying. “What brings Yinka here today?” She smiles.
I blow out my cheeks and touch my hair, digging my fingers through the coils. “Gosh, where do I even start?”
“Anywhere that is comfortable for you,” she replies, and I glance down at her feet. Unlike mine, they’re perfectly still.
It seemed like a good idea at the time, taking down the number of Donovan’s counselor. But now that I’m here, I’m not too sure. I can’t tell Jacqui about my Post-it note plan. The squats, the pounded yam diet—I’m cringing even just thinking about it. And as a fellow dark-skinned woman, I cannot tell Jacqui that I nearly bought a range of lightening products.
So instead, I say, “Is it so wrong to want love?”
Jacqui gives me a nod, which I’m guessing means, “Tell me more.”
“I want my happily ever after,” I say, and I surprise myself with my defensive tone. “Sorry, I . . .” I breathe out. “I just have this fear. This fear that I’ll never—” I break off, not wanting to say it aloud. “I want to find love and get married one day. Yeah, I know, it’s the twenty-first century, so this makes me a bad feminist, right?”
I reach for my glass of water, needing to hold on to something. I already know what Jacqui is going to say. She’ll tell me all the reasons why marriage doesn’t equate to happiness, as though I don’t already know this.
So when Jacqui shakes her head, no, my brows shoot up in surprise.
“I don’t think it does,” she says sagely. “It just shows that you’re human. And as humans, we have an intrinsic need to find and maintain relationships. So no, Yinka, there’s nothing wrong in wanting these things. But you mentioned the word ‘fear.’ Tell me, is that a fear of yours? That you’ll never find love or get married?”
My mouth parts. I feel as though I’ve walked into a trap that I didn’t even know I had a role in making. I sense that Jacqui realizes this too, as she relaxes back in her chair.
“Maybe we should start with this?” she says. “The catalyst that perpetuated this fear. For many people it’s more than one thing, but let’s start with the first thing that comes to your mind.”
Without needing to think, I say, “Femi. My ex-boyfriend.”
I’ve never been a loquacious person, but once I start talking it’s hard to stop. It’s as though someone has reached into a bathtub and pulled out the plug, and now all the murky, dirty water is whirling beyond my control. I tell Jacqui that ever since I was young, I’ve been an overachiever. That this served me well in my education and career, and so, naturally, I had faith that I’d find love and marry one day too. So when I got with Femi—sweet, ambitious, handsome Femi—he didn’t just solidify my plans, he boosted my confidence. My life was all going as I’d hoped it would. Then all of a sudden, he didn’t want to be with me.
“I met his beautiful new fiancée recently and I was like, ah-hah!” I raise a finger. “So that’s why you left. You wanted someone better. Someone lighter—” I break off, then continue hastily. “And now I’m convinced there must be something wrong with me. Is there something wrong with me? Sorry, you’re the one supposed to be asking the questions.”
Jacqui finishes the note she’s scribbling. “Don’t apologize,” she says, and there’s a twinkle in her eye. “Remember, there’s no right or wrong way of expressing yourself.” She tilts her head. “It sounds as though you went through some heartbreak, huh?”
I nod several times.
“From what I’m hearing, you’re feeling hopeless. Your ex-boyfriend has managed to meet someone and you haven’t. That’s what brought about this fear, isn’t it? But Yinka, tell me. What if you never find love or get married? How would you ultimately be?”
The very thought is excruciating. “I would like to say I would be happy because finding love doesn’t define who I am.” Aunty Blessing flashes to mind. “But honestly, Jacqui, I would be disappointed. Then there’s dealing with my family and friends. I don’t want to be the one everyone feels sorry for.”
Jacqui does another of her “go on” nods, but my throat is tingling. I don’t want to elaborate. Then after an immense silence, she says, “You know, it may be that it’s not so much fearing being alone, as fearing you’re not good enough,” and I feel as though she is holding up a mirror.
“A person who doesn’t believe in themselves may think that they are not worthy of love,” she carries on, and I knock back my water to stop my gathering tears from leaking out. “Yinka, I want to help you confront your underlying fears head-on. The goal here is for you to be happy as a single woman now while retaining your faith that you’ll find love because you deserve it. In other words, to embrace the present and not fear the future. Does that make sense?”
Unable to speak, I give a weak nod. And when she glances down, I wipe the corner of my eye.
“Now, if you don’t mind,” she says, looking up again, “I want to touch on something you said earlier. When you mentioned Femi’s new fiancée, I was intrigued by the words you used.”
I take a long glug of my water as Jacqui refers to her notes again, hoping she’s not going to ask what I think she’s going to ask . . .