CHAPTER SEVEN

VINNY

Under the soft glow of amber lights, the city outside seems to fade into the background, leaving only the comforting hum of Marcus’ cheap apartment with some Afro beats gently soothing the air with danceable molecules. I lean against the pool table(of course Marcus has a pool table in his house, go figure), cue in hand, watching Marcus with a contemplative gaze; my foot gently tapping in rhythm. The neon lights from the overhead light fixture paint his face in shifting hues, adding an otherworldly quality to his easy grin. Why is he so effortlessly handsome? I note with a disturbing acknowledgment that I would definitely crush on him if I were gay. (Stop your judgement, the thought only occurred in my head since I am from the office and the topic of LGBTQ+ seems a necessity as oxygen for lobbyists all over the world. Ooh yea, I am a social worker, I will tell you more on that later.)

"You're overthinking it, Vin," Marcus call out, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "It's just pool, not rocket science."

I chuckle, shifting my weight as I line up my shot. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one dealing with a geometry crisis here." I say flashing with embarrassment at my secret admission. (Also, I am 100% straight and in love with Eve, don’t go making assumptions, it was only a thought!)

The click of the cue ball against the striped ball echo in the room, followed by the satisfying sound of it rolling into the corner pocket. I straighten, a grin tugging at my lips. "See? Crisis averted." Nothing like male sporty showmanship.

Marcus chuckles, pushing off the bar to saunter over. "Alright, Mr. Pool Shark. How about we raise the stakes?"

I arch an eyebrow, intrigued. "I'm listening."

"If I win, you're finally going to talk to me. Really talk. No dodging," Marcus proposes, his tone serious beneath the playful banter. I knew this was bound to happen, especially with all the secrets floating around. I clear my throat, guilt wearing me like a cheap cologne, choking me with anxiety. I am not about to confess about Eve, not even to my best friend, not yet anyway.

"And if I win?" I counter, curiosity piqued.

"I will run the Nairobi Marathon in a chicken costume. Your choice of color," Marcus declared, mischief dancing in his eyes. (Mater Heart Run, to be accurate.)

I laugh, the sound filling the room. "Deal. But I'm holding you to that."

As the game progresses, Marcus's playful demeanor contrasts with my own focused precision. The click and clatter of the balls fill the air, punctuated by occasional banter and friendly jibes. It was a familiar dance, one that spoke of years of friendship and shared experiences. The interesting thing is the difference of personality and temperament between us. Marcus has always been the easy-going, likeable guy and I adopted the wallflower approach in social interactions.

I fondly remember when he approached me in one Chinese restaurant lower middle-class families with kids loved frequenting on Sundays. I was alone playing some seven-year-old game and he just stuck on me like a blood-sucking parasite, I wished him away but the power of the mind didn’t get the message and still hasn’t. We became friends from those Sunday meet-ups and I have grown to accept him as part of my life. We have shared toys, love crushes, schooling pressure and now grown-up sex confessions and drunken escapades.

Anyway, back to the present,

Beneath the surface, there is an unspoken tension, a weight that hangs between us like a shadow. Marcus is right—I have been distant, more so than usual. Ever since Eve... I shake my head, pushing the thought aside. Now isn't the time to dwell on the delicious activities I have been doing behind his back.

"You know, Neema's worried about you," Marcus says suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. Piercing the playfulness and staling the upbeat music still in the background.

I still, the cue slipping from my fingers. "Is she now?" I reply, trying to keep my voice casual. What happened to the bet?

Christ, for a goofball, Marcus surprises me with his introspective nature and tender regard he always carries for his friends. In this case, my girlfriend. Maybe I will ask about the intimate moment I caught between them at Eve’s last month.

Marcus nods, his expression serious. "We all are, actually. You've been distant. More than usual." Meaning how I never speak about losing my sister to sui,,,, I can’t ,, I don’t want to think about that now.

I hesitate, the weight of Marcus's words settling over me like a heavy blanket. "It's just..." I start, then stop, struggling to find the right words. "I am going through an existential crisis"

Marcus waits patiently, his gaze steady.

"I see things differently lately, like the abstinence vow, the tension between Blake and Neema, she was a little harsh on Blake for a minor fuck-up" I finally admit, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I don’t know, I feel thrown off by the energy in the group. I really want Blake to fit in and you know why."

Marcus nods in understanding. We have never spoken about it but from the moment I introduced Blake to the group, Marcus gave me a look, a knowing look... she looks just like…

I chuckled bitterly, I continue now feeling raw and willing to offload something. "Blake is... complicated. It's like looking into a mirror and not recognizing the reflection. She's a reminder of everything I've lost and everything I wish I could be. That makes me feel like I am lying to Neema, she hates Blake’s guts since she thinks I have feelings for her. But if I tell Neema the truth I will look like a creep."

Lord, I didn’t think I was holding all that in. Wow! On top of hiding my affair with Eve, I must reek of suspicion.

Marcus approaches, a comforting hand on my shoulder. "But that's the thing, Vin. We're all a little broken. It's how we piece ourselves back together that counts."

I meet Marcus's gaze, the weight of his words sinking in. "I guess I'm just afraid of what happens when the pieces don't fit anymore." I mean it referencing the affair with Eve, but he doesn’t have to know that yet, this is enough.

"That's why you have us," Marcus says firmly. "To help you find the right pieces. To remind you that you're not alone in this, and if you want to have sex, just go ahead and do it mahn!" I feel a glowing sense of appreciation, knowing that, I am the only one who gets to see this side of Marcus; When he is human and sensible.

He would be a great partner to whoever tamed him. (Again, I am not saying that with any hidden feelings, Marcus really is a catch, if only he believed that himself.)

I nod, a sense of gratitude washing over me. "Thanks, man. I needed to hear that."

"Anytime," Marcus replies with a reassuring smile.

As the night drags on, filled with laughter, pointless conversations, and the occasional game of pool, I feel a sense of peace settle over me. Maybe Marcus is right. Maybe I am not as alone as I thought. I need to come clean with Neema and hope the group survives the ripple.

Boy’s night rocks!

As I bask in the glow of feeling a little better after feeling heavy for weeks, the apartment’s door swings open, welcoming a gust of cool night air and the arrival of a familiar face. Tariq, a mutual friend known for his infectious energy and impeccable timing, strolls in, carrying an old, battered guitar.

"Hope I'm not interrupting ladies," Tariq announces sarcastically, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he takes in the scene before him.

"Not at all, my friend, just in time for scissoring," Marcus replies, matching his playful banter; a welcoming smile on his face.

I raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Since when do you play?" carelessly pointing the old guitar with a pool ball.

Tariq laughs, setting the guitar down beside the ancient couch that Marcus refuses to get rid of. "Since forever. You guys just never asked." He winked, adding, "Thought tonight might be a good time to share some tunes. You know, add a soundtrack to our existential crises."

Marcus and I exchanged amused glances before nodding in agreement. Tariq had a way of turning any gathering into an event, and tonight was no exception. But I note by his looseness, he is from wooing a damsel somewhere. I notice his look as I am spotting the same looseness as I left Eve’s to come here.

As Tariq tunes his guitar, we mute the stereo and settle in the newer couches, food and drink in hand, the previous tension melting away in anticipation of the music. The first strum fills the apartment with a warm, melodious sound, Tariq's fingers moving expertly over the strings.

The songs vary from upbeat tracks that have had us tapping our feet and bobbing our heads, to mellow tunes that evoke a sense of nostalgia and reflection. Tariq's voice, raw and emotive, adds depth to the lyrics, weaving stories of love, loss, and hope.

During a particularly poignant song, Marcus catches my eye, a silent communication passing between us. It is moments like these, surrounded by friends and music, that reminds me of the beauty in vulnerability, the strength in sharing one's struggles. For a fleeting moment, I pounder on telling Marcus about Eve.

As Tariq's set came to an end, the room is filled with a comfortable silence, the kind that speaks of understanding and camaraderie. Tariq leans back, a satisfied grin on his face. "How's that for a chill-out session?"

"Perfect," I respond, sincerely. "Thanks, Tariq."

"Yeah, man. You've got a gift," Marcus adds, clapping Tariq on the back.

Later, I leave with a lighter heart, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead. And for the first time in a long while, I feel like maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be okay.