Block me

Jake doesn’t sleep that night. Not because he’s heartbroken — because his brain won’t shut up. He keeps seeing Mom’s face when Amaka showed the phone. Not angry. Just tired. Like she aged ten years in two seconds.

He hates that more than shouting.

At 6am he gets up, washes his face in the bucket. Water’s cold. His knuckles still hurt from punching the wall two days ago. He looks at his hand and thinks: _I’m disgusting._

He turns the phone on. Rihanna didn’t text again. Just _Thank you._ That’s worse. He wanted her to beg or fight or something. Not _thank you_ like he gave her a favor.

He types: _We can’t talk again._

Deletes it.

Types: _You should block me._

Deletes it.

Finally sends: _Don’t text Mom again._

She replies after like five minutes: _I won’t._

Then nothing else.

He goes to work. Oga shouts because he forgot to tighten a bolt. Customer comes back yelling. Oga docks his pay for the day. Jake just nods. "Sorry sir." He used to argue. Now he doesn’t care.

David finds him at lunch eating bread on the curb.

"You look like shit."

"Thanks."

"Serious. You dey sick?"

Jake tears the bread. Doesn’t answer.

David sighs. "Na woman."

Jake laughs once, ugly. "Yeah."

"Who? That one from your street?"

Jake looks at him. "Drop it."

David puts his hands up. "Okay. But my sister go through the same thing. She dey like her cousin. You know wetin she do? She move to Benin. No phone, no nothing. Three years. Now she married, two kids. She say she still think about am sometimes but... e pass."

Jake stares at the road. Danfo beeping. Smoke.

"You think I should move?" he asks before he can stop himself.

David shrugs. "I think you should stop lying to yourself. Either you do am and live with am, or you cut am off proper. This half half go kill you."

Jake doesn’t answer. But it sticks.

---

Rihanna is not doing better.

She fails her Marketing test. First time ever. Lecturer calls her out — "Rihanna, you dey here?" She just packs her bag and leaves.

Ada follows her to the hostel. "What is wrong with you? Since you came back you dey different."

Rihanna wants to say it. The words are right there. _I’m in love with my brother and he said he feels it too and now I don’t know if I’m relieved or destroyed._

Instead she says, "Family problem."

Ada hugs her. "You go dey fine."

After Ada leaves, Rihanna opens Jake’s contact. Still unblocked. She stares at his picture — old, from like 2021, him in the mechanic shop, face oily, smiling stupidly at the camera.

She types: _Do you regret saying it?_

Deletes.

Types: _I don’t want you to leave Mom alone because of me._

Deletes.

Types: _I keep touching myself thinking about you and I hate myself after._

Deletes fast, heart slamming. She throws the phone on the bed like it burned her.

She goes to the bathroom and stands under the shower for twenty minutes. Water cold. She whispers, "I’m sick. I’m sick." Not like sad. Like actually mentally sick.

When she comes out her roommate is back. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

She lies down and stares at the ceiling. Same one since first year. Crack in the corner.

Her phone buzzes. Jake.

_You asked what I really want. I want you to stop hurting. And I want to stop thinking about your mouth when I’m trying to sleep. I don’t know how to do both._

She reads it three times. No poetry. Just him, tired and honest.

She types back: _Same._

Then before she can think: _I wish we met different. Like not like this._

He reads it. No reply for an hour.

Then: _Me too. But we didn’t. So we stop._

She types: _Okay._

He: _Okay._

They both know it’s a lie.

At 11pm Mom calls Rihanna. Voice small.

"Your brother no dey come home again. He say work plenty. You talk to am?"

Rihanna closes her eyes. "No ma."

"Tell am say I miss am. Tell am say food dey here."

"Okay ma."

She hangs up and texts Jake: _Mom said food dey house. She misses you._

He reads it. Replies: _I know._

Then: _Don’t tell her anything. Please._

Rihanna: _I won’t._

She puts the phone under her pillow and doesn’t check again.

In Yaba, Jake lies on his mattress listening to David snore on the floor. He thinks about going home tomorrow. Just to eat. See Mom. Leave before Rihanna calls.

He thinks about Rihanna in Ibadan, failing tests, probably crying.

He thinks about Amaka’s hand on his wrist: _I will kill you myself._

He thinks about touching Rihanna’s face that night on the balcony and not pulling away.

He rolls over and punches the pillow once.

No tap-tap.