NEW ERA

2 years later.

A shove off my pride, a ladder to the rooftop, a water tank containing about 6000 liters of water, some chairs that other apartment members used to sit on—what a good place this was! I am currently on the roof top checking on passer buys and cars passing. It is some six floored storey building, so you can imagine how far I am. It's around six o'clock in the evening, the perfect time to watch the sun set in this new arena, the so-called United Kingdom. I always come here to clear my head, maybe have some time to interact with my past, and at least make peace with it because, as far as I know, some people might never forgive me. I was introduced to the rooftop by some dude I met, a white guy who seemed cool. You know, I had the notion that black pigment-colored individuals have a history of racism and discrimination. In real sense, I was quite welcomed well; however, I realized how different we all are. Back in my country, classes seemed okay without any colors other than albinism, a skin disorder. That individual was the first friend I made when I arrived; obviously, Auntie Mary was here, who is today the reason for my obscenity with some people. Honestly, I have enjoyed my time here, from the first lecture, which was philosophy, to having the opportunity to interact with distinct individuals divided by continents. I had joined some poetry competitions and podcasts with other people. Introduced some of our Kenyan pop music to the people, and they formidably loved it, especially because the drill was compatible with that of the UK.

Bragging about my country is not just a want but a need with most having the notion of places filled with poverty and health issues. However, the media is to blame, for showing poverty reigned areas over the rich hence Africa as a whole being labeled. In addition, I have joined the Black Lives Matter association after one guy was sodomized; maybe it was an obsession with the acts of Dahmer. I've tried dating, but I don't think most guys reach the notion of perfection that I desire from a guy. I don't like remembering much of Leniey. After I left for the United Kingdom, he never texted or called me. I always see him posting some thirst traps status on Instagram, the only place he did not block me. Jake had told me that he had turned into some fuckboy. "He is a scum bag angel. He has fucked every girl who shows interest in him." Were the words Jake had told me. Honestly, I had broken him; I never said goodbye, and additionally, never told him where I was going. I just texted him some goodbyes. Okay, I was hurt too, but telling him goodbye would be an eye-opener for me, and I wanted so much to live in the past hoping that I would come back. They had already graduated, obviously, two years down the line. I was also in my final year. I have already written and published one book, "The River Along," which is a very great move for someone like me. Writing has always been my passion, and I have always wished to convey to my audience what I solemnly imagine.

My literature professor always says that poets are the hardest to find love, writers are the hardest to feel love, and artists are the hardest to draw love. These words solemnly leave me in the wonder zone. If I am a writer and I can do poetry and I can perfectly draw, where do I lie? However, despite my heart being blocked by something I can't explain, I have been on various dates with distinct people at the school. Yesterday I was with the secretary general of the school. He seemed quite cool; this is why I am sitting here right now. I'm debating whether or not to date him. He's quite amusing, obviously tall (you know I have something for heights), light skin, but his hair is some mixture of African American and white. He is good-looking; hazel eyes and black hair which he has shortened, and lastly a great football fan. Being a Manchester united fan, he lately gave me an idea of leaving to London for the Manchester derby, am not a football fan but maybe being with him might end up influencing my likes. Conversely, something about him brings me back to Leniey; the way he looks at me as if I were his only focus, the way he calls my name when I zone out, the way he walks side by side with me..,, well, this, is what gets me scared. When I start comparing the current guy offering a date with my previous situation ship. It scares me in that it might feel like making a comparison but not something out of love.

Side thoughts: maybe I should give it a shot. If it works, God bless; if it doesn't, well, it wasn't meant for that. A call startles me; it is from him that guy— the secretary general. "Hello, hey Angel! Am at your apartment, where are you at? I thought you told me you were staying home today?" he states. "Oh yeah, I'm on the rooftop; just climb up the stairs to the roof, left side at a corner." With that, he hangs up. He is always a one-time caller, a truly lazy texter; he can leave someone on read for almost a week and then hit you with "How was class? Or you up?' He is some weirdo, just like Leiney was. The way he was always nervous around me, sh*t, am thinking about him again; am I over him? He's knocking down some ladies; maybe his body count is now over his age, and here I am thinking of him with his dick being my one timer body count; Holy crap, he's lucky. It wasn't even a relationship; there was some tension, and then, bang, his dick was inside me. "There you are." That voice startles me. His name is Kelvin; I forgot to even introduce him. He comes straight and hugs me. This guy's got some confidence. "I was looking for you at the apartment," he says (in a teasing tone). "I thought you had lied to me. (Looking down the apartment walls to the road nearby) Damn, this place is so high, Angel. When I was a kid, I always dreamed of jumping like Superman or Batman. (Laughing) crazy, fucking childhood…." The guy talks. Honestly speaking, Kelv talks as much as a hundred words in a minute. He would sometimes realize that he has talked so much then suddenly asks, "Ooh, aren't you talking?' Honestly, I am an extrovert, but this guy is an excessive one; maybe that's how he managed to win the secretary general's seat. Maybe this time I am listening like Leniey did when we were conversing. I watch him speak and realize the earrings on his ears make him look more handsome. The expensive watch on his wrist, how well the suit he is wearing is straightened with it shoving his ankles, and some white socks appearing inside the black leather shoes he's wearing honestly, he is a model; with his modesty, he would look good in any clothes. "How long will you analyze my wares?" (Teasing) Just ask. How do I look? Tell me if am elegant, simple, wealthy, confident, or powerful. Do I stand a chance of being your boyfriend? I am serious (laughing)." He always laughs when tensed or nervous, not like Leniey, who had this dead face and stared at you like an idiot or looked and walked away without saying anything.

After the rooftop, we went to grab some supper, during which he bought me some meat and some of his classic French fries. He is trying to take things slow. He seems to really like me, which I am not sure about, but he's really trying to impress me. He hasn't made a move on me since we met some days ago—I guess five days or something. He has been taking me out, calling me when he is available, and always being there when I need his help. I think I might finally forget that one guy, whom I assumed did some witchcraft on me to get me so attached to him. Right now, we are in my apartment listening to some Afro-pop music. He seems to like it so much, as now he is literally singing the lyrics stated in English and just vibing on the beats onto those he doesn't understand, when he suddenly asks, "Tell me something about your past, your ex? I hope it's not hard, but if you feel like its hard, it's okay. I can start first. My ex was an Australian Shawty; she was pretty with a nice body for my liking, but she liked spending too much. I once spent ten thousand pounds on her within an hour. She was always like, "Baby, I have this bag; it's classy; you know you are a model, and you should have a girlfriend who looks modest." And I would just send the cash like an idiot. I did love her though, but it was just some sort of obsession. I stopped giving her a lot of money, and she left, so then I knew she was there for the fame and money. So now it's your turn. Oh, wait, heartbreaks I was seriously heartbroken twice. Once back home in Georgia and right here in Birmingham, The nasty one was that in Georgia, it felt like someone had crashed me, but I healed, though some flashbacks can't be stopped, like wondering if they think of you and stuff. So now it's your turn. I am a fucking open book." I looked at him and, for the first time, lacked words to say. How would I say I was heartbroken by someone I did not even get to be in a relationship with? Or should I talk about my high school lover? That's pretty idiotic. That's when I realized he was listening when I started, "I, eh?... I've dated three guys; I was serious with none, I guess, but I was still heartbroken." I see him scorch his face as if asking how so, or digesting what I just said, when I continued, "Eeeh, I was heartbroken by one I did not have a chance to date." "That sucks." He stated and continued, "Who ended it? Or was it some betrayal sh*t?" I just shake my head and state, "One of us had to leave." "what? Damn, if you left without saying goodbye, I would kill you. That shit hurts, one of my relatives left like that; I still miss him, man; he was just a small boy; we were almost the same age; we used to play together, and one day I woke and found he had already left." Hearing him talk like that makes me realize the mistake I made. I loved Leniey, but I presume I had become selfish to lead him on and just leave without thinking about his feelings or how much he missed me. After the conversation, we started playing poker, and then later on, he was on the door, hugging me goodbye, before finally leaving.

Kelvin seems like the type of guy to wait for a lady to say 'I love you or can we date?" first. He is not the type to hit the nail hard and force one on the shin. It seems he wants to know me head-on before indulging in my business, which is heart affairs. I then headed to bed because the next day I had a seven o'clock literature class and waking early was never the norm for me.

My plan when I left home was to do literature, continue my master's in Creative writing, and then go back to finish my Psychology degree, hopefully. My parents have always been supportive of all the decisions I've made. This time I needed to live for myself and at least follow my passions and maybe one day be recognized as a profound author somewhere. Our literature class was more of a ted talk in which we were asked, in groups of two, to make podcasts and talk to different people via various social media platforms. My partner is a girl named Eva, she's a little apprehensive with language, and her communication can leave anyone longing. As for me, my communication cannot be rated; I don't know, but I am trying my best to read more set books and take part in content creation and spoken word as much as I can to expound on my communication and writing skills.

At noon I met Kelvin around the parking lounge, where he gesticulated his hand calling me. I did not hesitate to approach him since I wanted my fellow course mates to see I had some relationship with the school Secretary General. He's always a gentleman when it comes to treating ladies, well, how I presume. That's how he has treated me since the day we met. He gently opened the door for me and headed to the drivers sit, locked the seat belt and proceeded. Today, he is wearing a casually baggy white t-shirt with the name alive in caps at the back and black jeans trousers. When driving, he gives me the vibe of a chauffeur, which makes me laugh. Either, constantly shaking his head in rhyme to the song on speaker, sometimes clenching his fist when the car in front makes an unexpected turn or mistake. The drive was goaled on heading to some hotel with which we were served nicely.

He ordered some of his specialties which he forces me to try out. If the product was some snakes or snails not profound in my homeland I don't know but, the food was delicious, which left me yearning for more. Afterward, we drove to the Bear Adventure, a place I always heard but never visited meaning, this would be my first time here. It's a typical place, with both indoor and outdoor works and a shove of free climbing; I never knew he was good at arrow shooting and archery. He is quite possessive though, for instance, the crazy part is some guy tried talking to me while we were at the counter, and he jostled him off, almost thrashing the hell out of him, and stated: "hey, bro, live a life but not with this." Saying this, he just walked off. Afterward, we took a roll in view of the games; he was excited to have me try bungee jumping, but I am pretty off with heights; my brief scary moment was when I climbed a tree back home, second during merry-go-rounds, my heart would pound hard as if my death date had arrived. However, I loved his company during the whole exploration. For the first time, I felt alive in the United Kingdom, the way he looked at me as if I were the only thing compelling him into action. For the first time, I felt a change, a good kind of change, and an urge for freedom and love. When he danced with the kids who had come to the park, the way he waved at me from afar and talked to different people showed a sense of dominance and leadership. He was different, and this time, I never seized to compare him; he was another human from a different world.

"Hey, are you enjoying? You seem lost." With some sort of worry, he asked, "I hope you love it here; seeing these people makes me happy; one day I'll be happy to see the people of Georgia this happy." He ended when I asked a kind of silly question, "Why? Aren't they happy?" he answered, "Yea, they are, but life in the hood is complicated, this is the place I get to see kids of all colors happy. Home is quite separated. We agree there is no racism on the outside, but deep down, on the roots, on the ground, there is a lot to it more than media shows. Being an influence to the society makes you different, but that shy boy or girl is always stepped on. Always stepped on and I see it and crazy fact is that there is nothing you can do, bullies are all over. I want to become some conversion, an influence, a change, but the question is what change is there that can be changed." For the first time, I saw the world differently; listening to him, I saw how every person in a different place has a problem and does not know what to do about it. He continued that one day he wished to join the political society in the United States, but my question was, 'how did he make it here? Why not study back home?' I never had the chance to ask him those questions though, because he called upon a guy selling giant candies, paid him, and requested him to give them to some kids who were playing near us. His act of selflessness to the kids made me wonder why. Why was he so intimate with children? Despite being an open book, as he had stated earlier, I still found questions about him storming.

After the great adventure with which he had actually surprised me, he took me to my place, hugged me goodbye, and then left. He never showed concern about liking me, but I felt he did like me, he was either hiding or scared. I liked the way he made everything simple and how he was trying to take things slow. As I stated, he was a lazy texter, so most times, if it was Good morning, he would prefer to call me to know how my night was. For instance there was a time my goodnight text was still on read and he just called 'ooh, I am sorry, didn't mean it, I thought I replied, am quite busy, computer science shit and whatever.' Sometimes I don't care what kind of expertise he is venturing on, I just want him to at least reply, but now, he calls approximately five times a day, doesn't matter what time, and honestly, I love it.

I hate being a weirdo in front of Kelv. By weirdo, I mean being over reactive, but sometimes I find out he enjoys me being like that. Three weeks have passed since our encounter, and we've had so many night outs, dates, movie nights, lazy sleepovers, and cozy adventures. For the first time, I learned how to skate, watched a live football match and for the first time, I felt warm and real, I knew I was falling. Currently, we are driving home from his friend's birthday party. He packs the car carefully at the side of the road near our apartment and then walks me to my apartment. The little champagne is still banging my head, and I am sure a terrible hangover will follow tomorrow. As I open the lock, he tenderly touches my hand and looks direct and straight at me. He wants to talk but cannot; just a gallop escapes his throat; I can see his look with the dimming hallway blue light. His gaze leaves my eyes towards my lips. I know what shall follow, some kiss maybe, I guess. I know he wants to kiss me as much, I close my eyes, waiting for the kiss, waiting for his face to press on mine, but finally, he lightly rubs my lips with his thumb and then kisses my cheek. Goodnight, Angel, he speaks near my ear, which sends a cold chill down my body. I slightly open my eyes, with the fatal change of events. He then lowers his face and kisses my forehead, then leaves. 'Why the fuck can't he just kiss me. Does he think I'll rape him or what?' are the questions left on my mind. I enter my room and sleep like an aimless fallen tree. The champagne really got a hold of me. A fucking lightweight, I am.