'Just for Nacks' by Edwin Madu

“I just met this Lois babe. She is fine man.” I remember telling him because I am not very versed in the art of getting the ladies, it is my way of asking how to go about it. She is one of the cool girls and I am unfamiliar with the process of ‘stepping to’ girls.

I somehow always end up being the best friend. Slow Guy is what they called me, what they call me.

I was enamored by her. I had seen him around with a lot of girls; he was the man. I had come to get what I could from him. I did not want to be exactly like him, so when he spoke I had my proverbial jar of salt beside me, dousing every point he made with saline before taking it in. He was the textbook bad boy; good looking with a lithe frame, sailor’s tongue.

He walked like one leg was shorter than the other. It was his fifth year in school, he was doing a four-year course. It was a mixture of anger and jealousy that soaked my brain when he said he had hit it; it was her, her vagina.

“You don nack Lois? How now?” I asked in pidgin, it was the preferred language when having conversations of this sort, it helped hide my pain. Saying “You have had sex with Lois?” did not quite cut it; I would probably cry.

He told me “many times”. He again told me all her friends that he had nacked and how many times for each. It was very detailed. I took in every word; I had forgotten my salt jar.

Wow was all I said, with wide eyes and unhinged jaws. What my mind carried was a lot more; a lot heavier than it, like an ant with its food.

What scared me was how Edidiong said it with a look of “Forget that tin”. The same way he would tell you that he played the guitar. The same way he would say it if you looked surprised; doesn’t everyone? Another thing that scared me was how a part of me glossed over Edidiong’s obvious issues being the man-whore that he was; proudly if I might add.

A part of me made to judge these girls, the ones he had nacked. Somehow I disregarded his comment that it was all “just for nacks” and was more concerned with “What kind of girls are these sef?” Girls I barely knew.

The other part of me, the one that might just make it to heaven, was shocked. I was raised better, I was taught better, boys should not always be boys, an author I love says we should all be feminists; was I not a feminist? This was a war fought constantly. This war between my two parts.

I walked away a few minutes later, I had to finish my project. I like Lade now, both parts of me do. For the sake of the part of me that might go to hell, I won’t tell Edidiong about her.

Edwin Ikenna Madu is a Nigerian writer born and based in Lagos. He writes short fiction, non-fiction, poetry, reviews, features, and articles. His short stories and poetry have been featured in the following: Naijastories, African Writer, Arts And Africa, Brittle Paper, The Kalahari Review, Jalada Languages Anthology, AFREADA, The Jeli and Per Contra. Read other awesome stories from his blog and follow him on Twitter @DwinTheStoic

ALSO READ: 'The Broad Street Inferno' by Edwin Madu