Finding Efe

Dear Efe,

It's been one long year. One torturous year filled with longing and missing and disappointment. I have been seeking and searching but I can't find you anywhere. I can't see you in anyone.

Every Friday evening, I sit at the place we first met. The park where we sat with our backs to each other. I was worried about getting my academic project done. You were behind me, your laptop opened on your laps, your airpods in your ears. The air was fresh with the scent of vanilla and a cool breeze was stirring the fallen leaves from the ground. The sun was gradually making its descent and the sky was painted with shades and hues of orange. I vividly remember this day because till now, it counts as the best day of my life.

I was taking a break from my project when I heard you groan and say to yourself, “Don't tell me these airpods are low.” I looked back and your afro stared me in the face. The scent of coconut oil wafting from your hair. I stared at it before tapping your shoulder. You stiffened under my touch before turning to face me. Your face was a few inches from mine. That lovely brown color of your eyes will always taunt me in waking hours and in my sleep. I will never forget the flecks of gold in your eyes, or your button nose or your pert lips that always looked like they were pulled down in a slight scowl. I will always remember that tiny beauty mark above your lips.

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Edited by me

Your face grabbed all my attention and it made me forget why I had tapped you. You raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at me and I cleared my throat. “Sorry, ummm, I thought you might be in need of a power bank. So, we could share mine.”

You stared at me for a while and this made me nervous, making my hands sweat. Then your lips raised into a smile. It was the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. It was full of warmth and light and life. It made your face glow. “Thank you so much, thank you.” You packed your things and came to sit beside me. That was when I realized the scent of vanilla came from you. In later months to come, I will find myself buying vanilla scented mists, and craving vanilla flavored ice cream just because it reminded me of you.

I pushed the powerbank towards you and you plugged your pods. You clicked on your phone and a song started filtering from your speakers. When I would ask you the name of the song later, you would tell me it was ‘Romeo and Juliet’ by Johnny Drille. You would be the one to trigger my love for his songs. You opened your laptop and continued typing. I tried to focus on my project at hand but your presence, your heady scent and your humming distracted me. They sent my thoughts into disarray.

Time flew by and dusk was already setting in. And that was when you asked me.

“Do you like happy endings or sad endings in books and movies?”

I pointed to myself, “You are talking to me?”

“Yes, of course. You are the only one here.” You chuckled. That sound sent my heart racing again.

“Ohh. I umm… I like sad endings.”

“Why?”

“It just kinda portrays life how it truly is. That it is mostly not all about happy endings.”

“Hmmm, thank you. I love sad endings too. Just because they give me a reason to cry.” You closed your laptop and put it in your bag, then stretched your hand to me. “I’m Efe.”

I took your hands in mine, squeezing lightly. “Ola.”

“Nice to meet you, Ola. Thanks for your help, you are a lifesaver. Well, it is late already and I have to be on my way.” You stood up and looked at me expectantly. I wondered what you wanted me to say. “Aren't you going home too?” You asked.

“I am. I am.” I stood up abruptly and put my books in my bag. “We could head to the bus stop together.” I continued.

“Yes, we could.” You added and we left together. The walk to the bus stop was full of questions and the need to know. The night was filled with curiosity. This curiosity started the journey to friendship and then to love. I describe this day to you because I wish you would see yourself the way I saw you.

You were writing your first novel and you had come to the ending of it. That was why you asked me if I liked happy or sad endings. We exchanged contacts and we started sending each other loads of texts. We went on dates, at the park, ice cream shop, library, and restaurants. Those months were filled with happiness and joy, different from what I had known.

But I wish you had told me. I wish I had known you were dying slowly. I don't know why you hid it from me. Maybe, because you wanted to just be free. Maybe, you didn't want me to look at you in pity. Maybe, you didn't want me to think you were fragile. All I know is, I stopped seeing you anymore. All I got was infrequent texts from you. I asked what was wrong and you gave vague replies. You told me you had traveled and wouldn't be back for a while. Then, even the texts stopped coming in and that was when my heart broke into pieces. I found myself almost incapable of smiling or finding joy in anything. I texted you even when you didn't reply. I reached out to you on all your socials but you had deactivated them. I asked your friends and acquaintances. They told me the same thing you had told me, that you had traveled. Nobody knew where exactly.

Then one day, my phone buzzed and your voice came through. Not the one I knew. Not the voice of boisterous energy and laughter. This voice was weak and sounded wracked with illness. “Ola, I'm sorry.” You whispered

“Efe, where are you? Where have you been? What's wrong with you? Why couldn't anyone reach you?” All the pain I had been holding in gushed out.

“Ola, I can't really tell you much. I am just a little bit sick and I have been receiving treatment. I will be back soon. I just missed you so much and wanted to talk to you. It's dreary here.”

“Tell me where you are. I will come to you.”

“No, you can't come to see me. I can't let you. I promise I will be back soon. I need you to do something for me.” You were cut short as you started coughing. My heart wrenched at that sound. You sounded so in pain and I wanted to ease it.

“What's that?"

"I finished my novel before I fell sick. I am going to send it in an email to you. Please, make sure it gets published.”

“You will be back soon. You can publish it yourself, Efe.”

“No, I want you to do it for me. I want you to do the honors. Please. It will make me happy. Promise to do it.”

“Okay, I will do it for you, I promise. Please, just come back soon.”

“Thank you. Now, I can be at ease. I love you so much, Ola. Thanks for making my last year on earth beautiful. Thanks for the strength. Thank you. Thank..” and then I heard that awful beeping noise of life draining away. My phone fell from my hands as it dawned on me. You were dead. Everywhere became silent and I couldn't feel anything. During the time of your funeral, I was like that, like a robot, incapable of feeling. I wished I had told you how beautiful you were the first day I met you.

I looked for you everywhere after your death. At the park, in the ice cream shop. I looked for you whenever the sun was about to start its descent. I looked for you in the scent of vanilla. I looked for your face in a sea of strangers, wishing I could just see a glimpse of my favorite thing, your smile. I searched for you in the beauty marks on people's faces and in the afro on people's heads. Though I didn't see you in all your entirety, I caught glimpses of you everywhere I looked. But, nobody would ever match up to you.

Dear Efe, your book is now a bestseller here in Nigeria and abroad too. You did it. I made your last wish come true. I hope you are happy and smiling as we are worlds apart. I hope you are looking down on me and reading this letter as I write it to you. Dear Efe, I miss you sorely. And I will always love you.

Yours with so much grief,
Ola.