“She goes, ‘Oh, you think I’m a fool like you? That’s the problem. You’ve always thought me that young girl that you could easily impress. I can bring up your children but not be part of your world.’ You know, the worst part is that even now they’re still kind of together? Nothing has changed. He’s still in Nigeria, still treats us like extracurricular. I just don’t know what they’ve worked out. All I know is that I felt like the ground shifted beneath me. I just shut down.”
The gust of breath Malakai released warmed my neck, and his arms tightened about me. It was a few moments before he spoke again.
“I clocked that so much of what I based my life on was bullshit. My relationship with Ama, my degree. All of it was to impress a man who was a liar. And I just . . . became really fucking sad. I couldn’t tell what was up or down anymore. Ama was sympathetic at first . . . actually closer to pitying. But it got frustrating for her, which I get. I mean, now I realize I was having a breakdown. I wasn’t going to class, didn’t want to go out. I wasn’t myself.
“When I told her that I was having doubts about my degree, she said I was dramatic, irresponsible, that she’d tried to be cool but this was the last straw. It wasn’t even really a breakup, it was like . . . two people finally being set free from something they didn’t know they were trapped in. After we split, I couldn’t figure out why I even wanted to stay at that uni. I spoke to Kofi and it looked like he was having the time of his life here. Plus, Whitewell had the perfect course for me.”
“And then you decided to come scatter tings.”
Malakai laughed, the sound rumbling through my body. “When I got here, I wanted to start over. I wanted to move somewhere with no expectations of me. When people have expectations you can disappoint them. I also . . . man, I don’t know how like my dad I really am. I have his smile, I have his eyes, who the fuck knows if I have his predisposition for being a cheating asshole? Like maybe if I was in a relationship long enough, I’d turn out like him? I thought it was better to avoid them altogether. I’ve seen how destructive it can be when you fuck up.
“Thinking about it, that’s probably part of what the film’s about. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I thought it was about understanding women, but . . . I think maybe I’m trying to figure out what relationships are? How they can work and if I’m cut out for a real one. Trying to build a playbook to avoid failure. Just in case.”
“Kai . . . you’re not a cheater and you can’t inherit a cheating gene. I just think you have to trust yourself to be who you are. And I think who you are is good.”
Malakai’s arms were still anchoring me to him, and they squeezed in response to my words. His voice was slightly more gruff when he spoke again. “I haven’t really talked about any of this stuff like this before. Thanks, Scotch. For—”
“What are fake girlfriends who are also real friends for?”
There was a snug, sweet beat, before his voice gently inquired, “How can you be so sure I’m not a cheater?”
I shrugged. “You don’t hide who you are, you’re open with it. I mean, yeah, you could have been clearer on some things . . . and you’re careful about how much of yourself you show sometimes, but who you are was never in question.”
Malakai was quiet for a while. “Were you cheated on?” he asked finally.
I found that once my truth tasted freedom it was harder to hold captive, particularly around Malakai. “Not exactly. I was the cheater.”
Shit. Shit. I wasn’t meant to say that. How did he do that? Mellow me enough for calcified secrets to soften and slip? Malakai said nothing, but his arms didn’t move from around my waist. My heart started pounding triple time against my chest, and my hands, holding on to Malakai’s arms, prickled. I let go of them, but he still didn’t let go of me.
“Talk to me, Scotch.”
After a few moments, my stiffened back relaxed into his chest. I let everything pour out.
I looked down at my thumbnails as they smoothed over the peachy, smooth paint of the other.
“Scotch.”
I shook my head and swiped at my streaming eyes with rough irritation. “No. No, don’t try to make me feel better, Kai. I don’t need you to do that. I hooked up with my best friend’s boyfriend—what kind of person does that? And then I ran away and hid. You were right when you called me a hypocrite. I think that’s why it stung so much. Like, who am I to give advice when I’m capable of that?”