There are many back roads that break off from the larger main road; muddy, undeveloped and unlevelled, and this is where you go to meet him. The houses here are often small and traditional, harking back to a forgotten time, as if the world moved on and left them there. The paint is old and peeling from the wood, and the houses are separated from the earth by cement blocks fixed into the ground. They look cared for, but no matter how hard you peer into the windows, you see no sign of life. You are the only person walking on the road, and there are no goats or cats or dogs. Weeds sprout up everywhere, from under an abandoned car, around the electricity poles, and along the street; filmy green moss grows on cement blocks. If the road is not grassy, it is because the earth is much too muddy and rocky.

You have your head to the ground and your back hunched. As if you are trying to disappear into the earth or do not want your face too visible to anyone peeking from behind a curtain. You have a million and one reasons why you should turn back. Meeting like this is dangerous. You have no idea what awaits you. It could be a setup. Still, your legs move forward, heeding a command of their own. Your knees buckle and you stumble. You walk on for a while like an ataxic until you regain your bearing. The road is getting narrower. It is littered with pieces of broken rock that are not actually rock, but concrete that reveal that this road was not always in this state of disrepair. The last house is around the corner, and vegetation has colonized the rest of the land. Weeds and climbing plants reign there, and that is where you see him. He is reclining against an old, beat-up, silver jeep. His hair is styled into little dreadlocks and he is wearing faded dirty jean shorts. He is shirtless and you appreciate his smooth chest. He waves to you and you walk over to him.

‘Hey.’
‘Hey.’
‘You don’t really talk much, huh?’
‘Yeah…’

You sit side by side in the car and he starts it. The ride is bumpy, and there is no true road, just a path through dense vegetation large enough for a car to pass through. He tells you his name, his real name but you reply with the fake one you always use. You say nothing. You wonder what to do. You wonder if you should say something.

‘You don’t really talk much, huh? Are you shy?’

You smile and nod your head. ‘A little.’

‘You don’t need to be shy or nervous with me, I’m a really cool guy.’

You nod your head and wonder if he expects you to say something, to challenge him or remark that he seems like a cool guy. You feel him spy a look at you before turning his attention back to the road. You do not say anything. He asks you a few questions about yourself, and you try your best to answer as vaguely as possible. Often, you have to repeat yourself or speak louder. After a while, you ask him the same questions. He talks a lot and you are not really interested in specifics.

‘Damn, you’re really nervous. You know we could not do this if you want. Say the word and I’ll take you home.’

‘No, I’m fine.’

You wonder if you should tell him to take you home. You study him and wonder if he would truly take you home. He turns onto a larger, tarred road then stops.

‘I live just there.’

You wait for him to turn off the engine before you open the door. You linger, waiting for him to come over and walk you to the house across the road. You go on ahead but when you get to the building you slow down so that he overtakes you. His apartment is smaller than it seemed outside, and even smaller because it is cluttered with oversized furniture, barrels, clothes and cardboard boxes. It is two tiny rooms. One is where you are standing in, the bedroom, the living room, and the kitchen. The other room is the bathroom. It too is cluttered.

‘You want anything to eat? Drink?’

‘No, I’m fine.’

‘You sure? Anything? Water? Orange juice?’

You are about to say water but then change your mind and say orange juice. He pours some juice into a glass for you and you accept it and take a big gulp even though you suspect the glass is unwashed and you are not really thirsty. He does not waste time, and you follow his lead. He tries to kiss you but you turn away from him. You say that his breath smells of alcohol but you know that is not why. A cockroach flies from the wall to the cupboard. You sit unclothed on his bed and he joins you. You try to kiss him but you almost gag because he emits a slightly fishy smell. Instead you say you do not know what to do and you let him take the lead. You stare into the bathroom as he moves over you. The shower is hidden behind a piece of fabric strung up on a pipe. You do not feel anything yet you moan all the same. He asks you if you like it and you nod because you cannot bring yourself to say yes. You lay feeling nothing until he is through. He asks if you’re fine and you say yes before heading to the bathroom to clean yourself.

In the car, you say nothing. You notice a spider dash across the dashboard and you curse yourself. He looks at you and says you are cold and emotionless. You laugh, unexpectedly, and deep down you know he is right; you have to be. He says your laughter was the only time he got a reaction from you and you express surprise before turning to look out the window. You tell him to drop you off a street away from your house so that you will walk home.

‘Will there be a next time?’

‘I didn’t think there would be a next time.’

‘Will I see you again?’

You pause for a while. You say:
‘Maybe. Probably.’

You watch him drive away and you know it is not true. He will never see you again.

About Dan Ajamo

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