Written by Evi Idoghor
It was the end of May 2014, and it was his birthday. Fisayo was preparing for some training tests, and I prayed fervently that he passed, because if he failed, he wouldn't be in the mood to celebrate his birthday. So, when he called to tell me the good news, I was overjoyed to start planning the beach party that he and some other celebrants (including my friend Ada) had discussed.
We set a date for the beach day and began planning the event. Me and Ada went to the grocery store the Friday before the party to get the food. We had planned to leave early Saturday morning for his apartment, where we would do all the cooking. But when I felt sick, I called Fisayo to come pick me up Friday night instead. He also stated that he wasn't feeling well, so he couldn't make the 30-minute drive down. “Okay, no problem, I hope you feel better.” Was my response to him. Later that night, he called to say he was in Lafayette and that I should pick him up from his friend's house in the morning before heading to his apartment. I was thinking to myself, didn't you say you were sick? I however, agreed to his request.
Then early the next morning, he texted me, saying that he had gone back home. After me and Ada arrived at his apartment about an hour later, we emptied the car, and went to his place. I began knocking on the door, and the door swung open after a few minutes. Fisayo wore no smile on his face when he yelled, “why are you banging on the door?!? Didn’t I tell you that I had a headache?” Any excitement I had to see him that morning waned, as I uttered no word and walked into the apartment, with Ada exchanging pleasantries with him. I then started prepping the ingredients for the food, Ada helped me for some time before leaving to her boyfriend’s place.
After she had gone, Fisayo's roommate came out of his room to greet me, and he pulled out his bluetooth speaker, asking if we could listen to some music. I handed him my phone, and he immediately started playing one of Celine Dion's hit songs. That simplified the cooking process and relieved any heaviness in my heart. His roommate kept asking if I needed anything, but I was fine. Fisayo stormed out of his room just then to turn down the music. He did this several times because his roommate always turned up the volume after he left. The last time he came out of his room, his roommate went off on him. “Guy wetin dey worry you! Someone is here cooking for your party and you can’t even help or even say thank you!”
I left them to sort out their wahala, while I continued singing and cooking. Then I went into the room, got ready, and off to the beach we went. During our car ride, he said, “I have made up my mind about you,” in a harsh tone. My heart began trembling – what was he displeased about again? Our sex life was great, I sacrificed to cook for his party, I mean if he wanted anything else, I would have given it, so what else was the problem?
After a while, things began to improve for me and Fisayo. We started spending more time together, and he even told me he loved me, which sent me into outer space. After one of such weekends, he left my house, and I went to visit Stacey. While I was there, he called me and asked where I was. “I am at Stacey’s house,” I replied. “Go somewhere private, I want to talk to you.” I thought nothing of it as we already spent a fantastic weekend together. I went into Stacey’s room, and then he said, “was there a time you had an infection?”
“ahn ahn, why?” The question threw me off. He said, “answer the question! If you like, lie about it." I went on to tell him about a time when I had UTI, not knowing where his rage was coming from. I also expressed my concern about his reaction, which is why I kept the information from him and treated myself quietly. It was my first UTI, and I had no idea what had caused it.
He was furious. “You’d rather talk to your friends about what is going on with you than you telling me?”
Perplexed, I asked, "How did you find out?” He ignored and went on saying, “my mother has had UTI! My sister has had UTI! It is not a big deal! Now, you have put me at risk!”
I was speechless. “I was feeling a little bit sick and went to the hospital, and they said I had a certain STD, so I started thinking about how I would have gotten it, then I remembered that you had UTI.” That's when it dawned on me that he had been reading my messages. I didn't have a password on my phone at the time.
“How does UTI cause this STD?” I asked. “I don’t know, just go and get checked out.” He said.
“Fisayo, I don’t have an STD, I have already racked up a $1000 bill for going to the ER a day before your birthday party, and they ran all the tests. If I had this STD, they would have seen it.”
“Still go to the hospital and let me know what the result is.” I sighed deeply. What kind of temptation is this one? After we spent a nice time together? I went back to the living room where I found Stacey and told her what happened. “Hmmm, if you have that STD, you will know. But to be on the safe side, just go and get checked out again.” Stacey was a nurse, so when I started experiencing UTI symptoms a day before the beach party, I told her, and she advised me to go to the hospital. And because it was late at night, I had to go to the emergency room at a hospital that didn't accept my insurance.
So I went to urgent care that day and explained to the doctors that I had no symptoms, but my partner wanted me to be tested. They carried out the test, and the doctor said, “I can’t see any traces of the STD, however, since he has it, and you both have been sexually active, I will still go ahead and prescribed an anti-biotics for you to take for 10 days, just in case it is lying dormant in you.” I called Stacey, who was now at Lola’s apartment. “Please go outside so I can talk to you.” When she stepped out, I told her that I tested negative for the STD, although the doctor still gave me medication. “Ah, thank God,” she replied, “because that STD is not a good one to have.”
The next call I put across was to Fisayo. He said, “are you sure they know what they are doing there? I will call and ask them for your results.” “Fisayo, you can’t do that, it is illegal for you to request someone’s medical records.” Then he warned me not to tell anyone about the STD.
That same day, we had planned to go bowling with all our friends, and I looked forward to it. But because of the STD wahala, Fisayo started to give me the cold shoulder. He refused to speak to me and did not return my calls. We still went bowling, but everything was strange, so much so our friends noticed the distance between us. After bowling, one of my out-of-town friends returned to my apartment, while I rode with Fisayo in his car.
The car ride was cold and eerie, and no one spoke to the other person. When we arrived at my apartment, he turned off the car, turned to face me, stretched out his right hand, and said, “give me your phone.” I was nervous. I handed it over to him, and he went straight to whatsapp and began scrolling. “Where is Stacey’s chat?”
“I deleted it,” was my response. He gave me back the phone and said, "you told her, didn't you?” Without giving me a chance to answer, he continued, “If you didn’t tell her, then why are her messages missing?” “I told her, but it wasn’t through text. By the way, why do you feel the need to go through my phone? Why did you think I told her? Are you just looking for reasons to fight me?”
"I had a feeling you'd tell her!" His hands slammed into the steering wheel. "I warned you, but you didn't listen!" My body began to tremble; I had never seen him so enraged before. "This is the end of our relationship!"
"Please, please, please, do not do this to me." I promise, I won't tell her anything else," I begged through tears, lowering my head on my lap. This was the first time he would see me break down.
"Get out of my car!" He screamed.
Immediately, I stepped out because I did not want a situation where a physical altercation would ensue. On reaching my apartment, I knocked, and my friend opened. “Fisayo just broke up with me.” “What do you mean?” She asked perplexed, “I just met him.” We talked about what happened, and as we were deep in conversation, there was a knock on my door. Whispering, I said, “go and see who it is.” She tiptoed to the door, and ran back, “its Fisayo.” I ran into my bedroom and sat up on my bed, “Go and let him in.”
Fisayo then came into my bedroom and shut the door behind him. Then he began whispering, "Please, when anyone asks you the reason for our breakup, don’t tell them its because of the STD. Find something else and tell them.” I was stunned, see me thinking he was coming to apologize for telling me to get out of his car.
“I am not going to lie for you Fisayo. If anyone should ask me, I will tell them the truth.”
“Please,” he put both palms together, “this is the last thing I am asking you to do for me.” I shook my head, “Fisayo, I can’t, I can’t lie for you, I am sorry.”
Catch up with previous parts below:
Twists and Thorns is a retelling of my first short story series published on this platform five years ago. On the 5th anniversary of this blog, I have decided to bring back story telling. Two parts will be published weekly in keeping with the video story series I will publish on Instagram. Buckle up, its going to be a great ride! I hope you enjoy this series.
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