“I’ve never said this out loud before,” Ejiro whispered, “but each time I think about how I don’t want to go back home—each time I so much as think of telling my mum—I end up feeling so—so guilty that I just freeze up.”
Obiora had felt a little alarmed. “Is she—?” he began, then stopped, not knowing how to phrase himself. He didn’t want to be indelicate.
Ejiro seemed to understand where he was coming from, because he shook his head almost violently. “Don’t—I know how it seems—but it’s not—she’s not abusive or anything. That’s not why I—I mean, she’s never hit us, not once.”
Obiora could feel his heart breaking. “Abuse doesn’t have to be physical, Ejiro.”
Ejiro didn’t seem ready to hear it. “I just don’t want to abandon her. That’s it.”
“Why do you think not going home means you’re abandoning her?” Obiora prodded gently. “You can always visit—or she can come visit you.”
Ejiro had looked down at the space between them. “You don’t understand. All her life, she’s done everything alone. Ever since my father died, despite being completely shut out from her family, despite all the obstacles she faced—a single mother in Nigeria—she did her best for me and Ajiri. Without her … I don’t know where I’d be.” The words sounded slightly stilted, rehearsed—like Ejiro had said those exact words to himself over and over again until they became a mantra. “This is the one thing she’s asked of me. One thing. Surely I can do just one thing?”
Even that didn’t sound like Ejiro talking—it sounded like his mother talking through him.
It sounded very much like emotional manipulation. But Obiora didn’t know enough about the situation to make a judgement.
Instead, he tried again to be delicate. “I understand where you’re coming from, Ejiro. But all those things she did, she did for you. Those are the things our parents are supposed to do; want the best for us. Love us. Care for us.” Ejiro was shaking his head, like he’d heard it all before. From his twin, most likely, since he’d mentioned arguing about this exact topic with her before. Obiora switched tactics. “Do you think she’d be happy if she knew you were only doing this out of some misplaced sense of guilt?”
Ejiro had paused, then remained quiet. Obiora had let him. He probably needed some time for it to sink in.
Obiora ended up reflecting on his own words, and felt them smack him in the face like running face-first into a brick wall.
Christ. Obiora was a fucking hypocrite. When it seemed like Ejiro wasn’t going to say anything further, he decided to speak.
“Know what I’ve never said out loud before?” he whispered, his heartbeat racing madly in his chest. “Since we’re being honest and all.”
Ejiro rolled his eyes, but his expression was fond. He looked grateful that the focus was no longer on him. “What?”
“I want to leave my job.” The words came out in a rush. Obiora couldn’t quite meet Ejiro’s eyes. Even then, millions of miles away from home and his father’s ears, Obiora felt flooded with guilt at the admission. Fuck. Maybe he could understand Ejiro a little better. “It’s not … horrible, per se.” Obiora exhaled aggressively. “Okay, that’s a lie.”
Ejiro laughed a little, a soft intimate sound in the darkness. “So, why don’t you? Leave, I mean.”
Obiora had to swallow a few times to get the words out. He was suddenly grateful for the faux intimacy of the darkness, because—even though his and Ejiro’s eyes had adjusted already, and they could see each other clearly—he could pretend he was alone when he spoke again.
“When Ada died,” he began thickly, “I was … lost. My father was the one who brought me out of the worst of my depression and self-imposed isolation. He gave me a job at his firm. Going through the motions, obeying his orders, being the best—it became like therapy to me. Because of him, I was able to find myself again.”
“Aw, Obiora,” Ejiro cooed, the empathy in his voice making Obiora feel warm all over. “Let me guess,” he continued, sweetly amused. “You feel like you’ll be betraying his kindness—or something along those lines—if you decide to just up and leave.”
“Got it in one.” Obiora laughed, some of the heaviness leaving his chest. “Like, my guy is already writing the future of the company with me and my brothers’ names on it. Woe betide me if I end up breaking his heart.”
Ejiro laughed lightly. “Well. Now you see where I’m coming from,” he said smugly.
“I guess,” Obiora hedged.
Ejiro hit him with one of the pillows. Obiora laughed.
“I don’t think your dad would want you to feel guilty, Obiora,” Ejiro said softly. “He did this—he gave you the job because he cared about you, not because he wanted you to owe him for it.”
Obiora raised a pointed eyebrow. “You’re preaching to the choir, Ejiro.”
Ejiro blushed guiltily. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. I hear you. What would you do, then?” he asked, smoothly changing the subject. “If you quit your job today, what would you do?”
“Oh,” Obiora said, pulse suddenly fluttering. “Yet another thing I’ve never admitted out loud.”
“Oh? I must be special then, eh?” Ejiro waggled his eyebrows.
Obiora’s heart did something devastating. Who was this suddenly flirtatious Ejiro, and where had he been hiding? “I will slap you.”
