Becomes Becoming: Day 5, 05 Nov 2012

The next morning, we took our time strolling from his house to the public transport. It was our last day together. The sky was clear for once. The coal factories had shut down for the day and given the city a brief reprieve from the smog. The sun blazed unfiltered on unfiltered but we barely noticed it as we tried to prolong the day. Chinese women walked swiftly by us, their fair skin protected by the sun-brellas (as I liked to call them). I laughed as I retold Dayo about the time a taxi driver rubbed my skin to see if my caramel color would come off.

“I would have told him off and not paid,” he spit out. He was obviously not amused.
“He was just curious. We both laughed and sang Christmas songs afterwards,” I said, still laughing.

“You’re not serious.”

“Yeah it was a long taxi ride. It took 2 hours to get to where I was going. Anyway, he wasn’t trying to be mean or racist or anything. Just curious,” I said, defending the no-name cabbie. Curiosity would be how I would sum up the Chinese reaction to me. All the miscellaneous pictures, long stares, rubbing of skin, and touching of hair were innocent of anything racist. It was their amusement in my differences that made me like most of the Chinese people I had met that summer.

“Maybe you’re just jaded from being here too long,” I finally said in a newfound sense of Chinese camaraderie.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, wanting to move on. He put his arm around me. “You know I don’t know if I can let you go,” he said, cocking his head towards me.

“I think you’ll manage.”

“Right now, I don’t see how I can.”

“Please! Don’t even act like this is going to be something for real. I just met you and we barely met each other and we already argued after 2 days.”

“Anyway, that wasn’t really a fight. And we made up so forget about that. I do know it’s going to be hard to forget about you.”

“Hmmm you might convince me to stay,” I said, blushing. I wasn’t joking either; I had never felt connected to someone so quickly before.

“Promise?”

“No,” I said shaking my head at the ridiculousness of the idea.

“You’re right,” he sighed. “My mother always told me never to let a girl fall unless I was ready to catch her.”

Again with the African proverbs, I thought to myself but I had to smile at the wisdom in it. I wonder if every Nigerian read Chinua Achebe growing up.

Rush hour was constant in Beijing. Unless it was the wee hours in the morning, it was best to travel with public transport or by bicycle. There were different types of congestion everywhere in Beijing: human, auto, bicycle. Nowhere was it worse than on the bus. It was as if the driver was getting paid by the number of people that could get on. That very well could have been the case but my lack of Mandarin kept me from validating my theory with the bus-travelling public. Complex conversations with non-native-English speakers didn’t transfer well and my Mandarin transferred even less. I had literally ridden my whole bus route on the last doorstep on the bus several times. Feeling the wind blowing through the cracks on the bus door as you tried not to push too hard against it was not the safest feeling. But that was Chinese traffic. For my last day, I wasn’t feeling nostalgic for the familiar tang of the bus crowd so we headed for the subway station. The train was crowded with the normal Friday traffic but there was enough room to freely stand.

The train pulled away while I was fumbling with my purse. I stumbled and started to fall but Dayo caught me.

“Watch it,” he warned, rumbling lightly in my ear, “you’ll fall.”

“You were there to catch me,” I murmured, smiling mischievously as I looked up at him, playing back his mother’s words to him.

“Nice!” he laughed.

We exited at my station. I rattled off all the places I needed to visit before I left: the tea shop; the Afghan restaurant, which had a simple but divine combination of bread and meat; to say goodbye to all my friends; and, finally, to pack.

“Is that cool?” I asked after rattling off the list.

“I’m all yours,” he said and took me by the hand.

“All day?”

“All day.”

As I took him with me to visit my friends, I kept noticing the admiring glances the women gave Dayo. It was vain, but I felt proud at having this Adonis walking along beside me. His head was a little on the Peanuts­-side but it balanced well with his plush lips and the wide smile that flashed his perfectly white teeth. And all of this was set on top of a strong back, muscled chest, and six foot plus body. And yes, his shoes were big. I wasn’t a beauty queen but I could hold my own. My face also suffered from Peanutitus but the crown of curly twists framed it well. My dark amber eyes were happy almonds sparkling over high cheekbones that often broke into a plush, bright smile. I guess what I’m trying to say is we looked damn good together.

I was supposed to go out with Robin that night for our last night out together. I had not told her I was bringing Dayo so she was surprised to see him towering behind me when we met at the same club from 3 nights ago. Robin and I had switched. This time, I was the one bringing Dayo. I registered the shock on her face but also detected a “girl-we-need-to-talk” look as well. I felt a prick of ominousness; I knew things were too good to be true. When we got inside, I quickly sent Dayo to get us some drinks.

“Oh my god, you won’t believe what I found out about Dayo” she blurted out before he had barely walked away. I checked to see if he had heard anything. If he had, he didn’t show it because he kept walking calmly to the bar.

“What?” I asked apprehensively, not really wanting to tamper with the fantasy of the last 3 days. It was my last night here. Did I really want reality? I asked myself.

“He’s got a girlfriend!” she said triumphantly. Why does she seem happy about this? I asked myself. “I just found out yesterday. My girl told me that he’s got this Aussie chick,” she continued.

“Why didn’t you tell me when you found out?”

“I tried calling you but you didn’t pick up in your hotel,” she explained. I blushed slightly, remembering where I had been instead of my hotel.

I couldn’t respond. I didn’t know if I was more annoyed at her for ruining the fantasy on my last day or mad at him for not telling me. Does this really make me a hoe now? I wondered. I’d never been the other woman. I didn’t want to admit it but a part of me felt pride at being able to sweep away another girl’s man. Am I my sister’s keeper? I reminded myself.

“Yeah, I’m about to handle this,” I finally said decidedly as Dayo returned.

“We need to talk,” I commanded when he put down our drinks.

“Al-right,” he said slowly, drawing out each syllable. I couldn’t explain it but I could feel the threat in that one word and I questioned if I really wanted to have this conversation. Am I my sister’s keeper? I repeated to myself.

I motioned for him to follow me outside. I couldn’t help but notice Robin trying to hide a smirk as we walked away.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” I asked when we got outside.

“Yes,” he responded slowly. Somehow he managed to make it sound like two words. Again the implicit threat was there although he appeared calm.

“Really?” I asked in shock.

“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly, “I heard Robin say it as I walked away. She’s always meddling in someone’s business.” He shook his head dismissing her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked heatedly.

“You didn’t ask.” He said it so innocently that I forgot I was supposed to be mad at him.

It took me a second to reconnect the thread.

“Umm, why should I have to ask? You’re supposed to tell me,” I said, bewildered at whether he was being audacious or just truly did not know any better.

 “I didn’t know I needed to tell you. But yes, I have a girlfriend. It is long-distance and we have an arrangement,” he explained calmly. He never left my eyes and didn’t seem the slightest bit uncomfortable. It disarmed me.

Now I was just simply curious. “What type of arrangement?” I asked.

“Well I’m allowed to date but not allowed to fall in with someone. But I have to admit, you’re testing the limits of that arrangement.” I could feel the low rumble of his voice as he chuckled at the last statement. I could see he was in awe at how much he had fallen in over a matter of days.

I was still processing this arrangement and his awe at nearly breaking the arrangement when he took my hands, breaking my concentration at his physical touch.

“C’mon Chuckles, it’s our last day. I didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t let Robin’s meddling ruin the few hours we have left.”

I thought about it and all the righteousness I had felt briefly melted when I saw that smile. I reasoned that he technically wasn’t wrong since he had an “arrangement” and it was my last day and Robin was just a little too happy to tell me the bad news. Yeah, my sister can have him back tomorrow, he’s mine for today, I thought. I took his hand and started to head back to the club.

As we walked on the steps, I asked him, “Why did you call me Chuckles?” He just laughed and pulled me inside.

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The sun was just beginning to break day and my taxi was idling as we lugged the oversized suitcase down the lobby steps. Each tug of the bag grew heavier as we neared the time to say goodbye. I was amazed that I found myself attached to this person that didn’t exist in my life less than a week ago. My heard thudded along with the suitcase lumbering down the steps. I knew it wasn’t just the chemistry, the attraction, the sex. I felt lighter when he was there but tethered to him at the same time. We watched as the taxi driver stuffed the unwilling suitcase into the trunk. The trunk slammed with finality and we knew it was time for me to go.

I turned to look at him and found his eyes searching mine.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said.

“I know,” was all I could manage.

I reached up on my toes and hugged him deep. We held each other until we found what we were struggling to articulate. It was more than a hug; it was a communication of love. I kissed him goodbye and got in the cab, watching his frame grow farther away.