Love and relationship were mostly for the arch angels, the senior students that we, the junior students, worshipped and perhaps lived to please. It was common for junior students like me to fetch water in buckets for the senior students without having any hope of provision for myself. We either bathed with a quarter-full bucket of water or not at all. Our clothes were mostly unclean since we hardly used water on our bodies. The lucky ones among us had some seniors we called "school pops" that oftentimes we gave our provisions (this we had in excess as our parents would ensure we had enough, though we were bullied out of them by the seniors). in exchange for protection from other seniors or punishments.
Thankfully, I had a school pop who mostly used me for personal gains but, a few times, protected me from being punished. My life as a junior student in high school was such that I lived as though I was scared of letting the world know I existed. The boarding house was a pre-adulthood class where students learned to survive hardship, and for some, they never returned the following terms. During these difficult moments, love and relationships were viewed as sacred, as only a few junior students dared to be associated with the opposite gender, either as friends or as lovers.
At the age of 15, a penultimate period of my transition to senior class marked my first love attempt as I yielded voluntarily to the constant hormones that flooded my puberty stage, rendering me confused, cautious, and maybe jealous of one particular female classmate, Jadesola. Jadesola was almost my height, chocolate-skin color, with accentuated features of puberty that oftentimes drove me to nuts, for her smiles accompanied by prominent dimples quickly sent shivers of jealousy and lust through my spine. At this phase of my transition, both into the teenage and senior classes, I had begun to take more seriously my manly features and dressings.
School activities like sports, sanitation, or laboratory practical sessions were such that I longed to interact with and get close to Jadesola. A few of my classmates had begun to call me Jadesola in the hostel since they knew I longed for her and showed interest in her, despite not having made my intention known to her yet.
"Aren't you going for the break?" I asked Jadesola during an opportune time when I noticed she stayed back in the classroom. I was excited within myself that I would get to spend a few moments with her, but for whatever reason she was not going out to observe the break period. My heart beat hard against my chest with every sound that excited my mouth, summoning courage from the world of the unknown.
"Not today, James; I have some assignments to tidy up." Jadesola replied with a smile and voice that made me fall more in love with her. I wondered if she knew I was lovestruck by her beautiful charm and physique, but I resisted any direct approach for fear of rejection and humiliation. We chatted for a little while before I excused her from concentrating on her assignment, preferring to do it alone.
One tactic I employed to get close to Jadesola but had little results was constantly borrowing things from her, such as notebooks, biros, pencils, erasers, etc. Another was to send small notes to those we loved, not necessarily as declarations of intent but perhaps to pass on information we did not want others to know about. Nonetheless, I made my decision, "I would write her a love note," which I eventually did, but the outcome was rather unpalatable. I sent a junior student to deliver the small, pieced love note that contained the expression of my undiluted heart feelings for her, savored with promises of commitment and public displays of affection.
I anxiously awaited a response from Jadesola, but 24 hours later, there were no signs of any letter, and her body language defeated any consensus to uphold any mutual feelings. Whispers soon began to deliver messages I did not request, only for me to realize the gossip was about the contents of my note.
"Frederick!" I thundered, calling out the junior student I had asked to deliver my love note.
"I'm sorry, sir. Senior Beatrice collected the note while I was on my way to deliver it." Frederick replied with a pleading face. I knew what the problem was immediately. Senior Beatrice was my two-year-old senior, a finalist, and confronting her was an insubordination that would not be forgiven by my other senior students. I knew my letter never got to Jadesola; instead, I was made a laughing stock. I was sad and ashamed of myself, but I knew I had to face the gossip and shame as my love note had become the talk of thr school. A week later, Jadesola approached me after the incident.
"I'm sorry about what happened; there was nothing I could do about it." She said. This made me feel sober and ashamed of myself, but I appreciated her for not leaving me to bear the burden of humiliation alone. Perhaps the incident bonded Jadesola and me together, and at a point in senior high school, we pretended to be lovers in an attempt to shut down many speculations and rumors about us. This, however, was not sustainable, as we realized we wanted each other but were unwilling to commit mutually to that which beats in our individual hearts.
About 18 years later, though in different locations of the world, our love and friendship blossomed with an understanding that we were good only as friends and not as lovers.
