Ugwuanyi Leo Anezichukwuihe

I wish he would stop staring at me for real.
All these years we’ve spent together in this room, being such fantastic companies, me in constant adoration of him; hebrimming with a ceaseless smile, never disapproving of anything I do. And I do a whole lot here. For instance, it was here, in this room, that I took my first sniff of meth, in the company of my friend, Jared. I don’t know where he is right now. I don’t know where anybody is, not even myself. I mean,I’m here, don’t get me wrong, but I figure there’s more to knowing where you are than just knowing where you’re currently sitting.
I wish we could go back to old times, normal times, when he just hung there on the wall, beaming at me. When I knew where my friends were, where I was. Not these days, when he just stares at me with this pitiful look, like I was on death row or something, just waiting to expire. And I didn’t know where my friends were.
No one bothers with me now. Oh, except my mom. Even though she wears this look, and talks weirdly to me.
“Do you want to eat? Do you like the temperature or should I turn off the AC?” You’d think I’m a freaking baby all over again. She comes into the room now, to take away the half empty plate. The jollof rice and plantain had tasted like carton and cement, but I can’t tell her that. It’s almost mean, and it’s not her fault you know. My taste buds have become quite funny with all the things they make me swallow. She won’t let me out the house, for ages now. She brings a white robed man to chant and sing incantations to me once every week. What I really hate is the noise, and the foul smelling incense. But I don’t feel different one bit. There are so many things happening in my head, including a deep, deep longing to just be dead.
My mom is walking out but stops to look at me. She follows the direction of my gaze.
“I think I’ll have this picture removed from your wall. You keep staring at it in a funny way. Is that who you’ve been talking to, Benjamin? This strange man with a handkerchief tied over his head.”
“Tupac.”
“Who?”
“Nothing.”
I stare up at Tupac, narrowing my eyes, to see if he noticed my embarrassment. We catch each other’s eyes; there’s a naughty look in his, like he’s about to burst into laughter, laugh me to derision.
Well, she can remove him if she wants. It was good while it lasted I think.
Ugwuanyi Leo Anezichukwuihe is a graduate of English from the University of Nigeria. His friends call him Sage, for no fault of his, apparently. He believes that the world could become a much better place if people read a little more fiction. Aside the crassness of Nigerian leaders and the attendant consequences, the other global phenomenon that saddens him is when Chelsea FC loses a football match.