Workings of a Teenage Heart

The sun hung low in the sky, a yolk bleeding gold and orange onto the corrugated roofs of our compound. The air smelled of ripe mangoes and distant charcoal smoke, heavy with the languor of a typical afternoon. Uduak and I were perched on the dwarf fence that separated our backyard from the communal parking lot, where banana stems tangled with wild cassava. We had made the spot our fortress, a throne from which we surveyed the world beyond.

"Looks like we have a new neighbor," Uduak said, her voice sticky with mischief, the kind of tone she used when we planned our pranks on the compound’s younger children. I was halfway through a tangerine, the juice bitter-sweet on my tongue. I tossed the last peel to the ground, not bothering to look up.

"What?" I muttered.

She nudged me, finger outstretched. I raised my head, eyes following the invisible compass. Beyond the tangle of banana stems, the three-wheeled truck groaned as it coughed up furniture, bags, and boxes. It was the kind of haphazard unloading that signaled the arrival of a new tenant. A man whose back strained under the weight of a mattress, a woman balancing a baby on her hip while barking orders, and her—

The girl who made my heart stutter.

My first impression of Blessing was of light. It was divine. She was kuli kuli colored, with a glow that mocked the sunset. Her hair was plaited into long cornrows, swinging like pendulums as she bent to lift a stool. Beneath the loose top she wore, her chest was rounder and fuller than Uduak’s, which was only just beginning to bud. Blessing’s waist curved like the bend of a question mark, flaring into hips that swayed as she moved. I was gone. The words of our biology teacher, Mr. Semaediong, drifted back to me—"Adolescence is a time of confusion"—but there was no confusion here. I was certain I wanted her.

Uduak’s eyes flicked to mine, a sly smile teasing her lips. "Don’t tell me your pim pim is already awake."

I looked away, heat creeping up my neck. Uduak had always been brash, her bluntness hiding the tenderness we rarely acknowledged. We’d grown up together, bathed in the same metal basin until modesty split us apart. We’d shared the same bed, our whispers mingling with the chirping of crickets as we spoke of ghosts, dreams, and the future. There were nights I’d brushed against her, my body reacting in ways I didn’t understand. But whatever feelings I had were like tiny buds crushed before they could bloom—stomped out by familiarity.

Blessing was different. New. Dangerous.

Determined to make an impression, I slid off the fence and dusted the back of my kappa shorts with my palms. My Manchester United jersey, faded from too many washes, hung loosely over my thin frame. I adjusted my durag and stretched a hand to Uduak.

"Oya, let’s go see our new neighbors."

Smirking, she took my hand. "You just want to see her up close."

Though I secretly enjoyed that she knew me too well, I didn’t give her the satisfaction of a response.

We wove through the tangle of banana leaves and emerged into the open space, where the new family was untangling their lives from the clutter of boxes. The elders traded greetings—names exchanged, relationships mapped out. Our friend Casmir was there, too, quietly watching as Uduak and I approached Blessing.

"Hi," I croaked. My voice sounded as if it were trapped in a waterlogged pot. Uduak smothered a laugh, but the coughs betrayed her.

Blessing’s eyes were large, liquid pools of something that reminded me of warm milk. Her smile was slow, languid, curving up like the crescent moon. "Hello," she said. Her voice was honey and spice.

My heart thudded. "Errm, I am Joseph. And uhm, welcome."

"And I'm Uduak. But you can call me Udy for short," Uduak chimed in, elbowing me out of the way.

"My name’s Blessing. But you can call me Bhee with the h, for short," she replied, eyes glimmering with amusement. I was transfixed. It was a smile that could melt iron.

"Well, erm, Blessing—"

"Junior!"

I cringed. My mother’s voice carried like the crack of a whip. Embarrassment burned through me. I hated that name, the moniker of childhood clinging to me like a stubborn stain.

"Yes, Mummy! I’m coming!"

Uduak grinned wickedly. "Mummy’s boy. Better run fast before you receive the beating of your life."

I shot her a murderous glare. Blessing giggled, a sound that burrowed into my chest. I shuffled away, leaving the girls to their banter. Even as I obeyed my mother’s call, their laughter tangled behind me like a thread I was too cowardly to follow.

Days passed, and I schemed. I plastered on my best swagger, an exaggerated indifference borrowed from Nollywood actors. I was forming a big boy. But Blessing remained elusive, a dream just beyond my reach. Every glimpse of her stirred the ache in my chest, the gnawing hunger that only seemed to worsen.

I lost count of days sneaking peeps through the small hole in the bathroom door while Blessing took her bath, taking to my heels at the slightest sound. Being in a communal compound, we all shared one bathroom and comfort room at the back of the building. Most days while taking my bath, I'd rub the soap lather on my palm against my "pim pim," or at night while inside my bedroom with the door shut, I'd masturbate with Vaseline as I fantasized about myself inside Blessing, later wiping myself clean of the shame and disgust that followed with tissue papers that I hid alongside the pile of my dirty laundry.

One day, Uduak called me a pervert on seeing the front of my knickers grow a mound when Blessing bent, her behind like a peach emoji, while rinsing the clothes she was washing before hanging them on the lines at the corner of the compound to dry. Uduak said there was no difference between me and Casmir.

Casmir was my guy—bright-skinned, soft-featured, and beautiful in a way that made girls’ heads swivel. He had a way with words, a disarming charm. He was the kind of boy Uduak hated; she called him a sissy, a "mummy’s boy" with all the disdain she could muster. He had always had a thing for Uduak, but Uduak turned him down every time he would ask her out, saying he wasn't man enough. I wondered what it meant to her for someone to be man enough, though.

To me, Casmir was cool, and I told him about Blessing one lazy Saturday, as the sun sank into the horizon. I pleaded for his help in winning her over. Unlike me, he was good with words and women. He agreed with a lazy smile, tapping my back in reassurance.

"Don’t worry, my guy. Na small challenge sha. She go be your own. Just relax."

But the days that followed told a different story. Casmir and Blessing’s banter became flirtation. They laughed together, the soft sound weaving a cocoon that shut me out. Nothing pained me more than this. When I questioned him, he gave me the same tired line—"Still dey work am for you, my guy. You know this kind matters, you no gads rush am."

I should have known. Casmir was the guy you didn’t trust your girl with. But I was young, desperate, and stupid. A “mummy’s boy.”

One evening, returning from the borehole where I went to fetch water with Uduak escorting me, my heart got broken like fallen louvres. Uduak watched me spiral after she confirmed that Casmir was seeing Blessing. Casmir had done me dirty, and I had lost my chance with Blessing forever. The pain doubled when she told me she’d caught both of them making out in the backyard of our house the day we were all together and Blessing took an excuse to go have a piss, Casmir following. My heart splintered at this news, shards of rage and humiliation driving deep. I tasted bile.

As I pushed the wheelbarrow laden with jerrycans, Uduak continued gossiping, seeming blissfully unaware that her words were gutting me. My fists clenched around the hands of the wheelbarrow, and my knuckles strained. All I could think of was smashing Casmir’s face in and watching him bleed. Uduak bet I wouldn’t do it. And I bet I would.