Keywords: Everybody’s Man, Brostitute, African Folktales, Femi, Alero, Web Novel, Nigerian, A Fablingverse Story, Origin Story, Jackal Tales, Fabling, Pam, Free Short Stories
Femi groaned as he slouched on Alero’s couch. He hated how her newfound happiness was making him feel. He looked at his phone screen and saw three missed calls from his mother. He had almost forgotten that he had a mother. He dialled her number.
“Hello.” He said. “I just saw your call, you’re still awake?” he rolled his eyes. “Yes mum, I saw the time.”
He kicked off his shoe and laid back to sleep. “I’ve been busy. That’s why.” This was why he hardly spoke with her, all she did was complain about him not being a good son. “I know it’s your birthday ma. I’ll come over.” He glanced at the clock. Alero and Chidi had still not entered.
“I should come with Alero. Why?” he asked.
Femi got up from the couch and walked to the window to look. “I’ll tell her.”
He did not see them. “This Saturday is fine by me. I’ll check with Alero.” He kept checking for them. He saw a passed out Dixon, then he saw Chidi’s car, and it was moving. He knew that movement, it was a movement inspired by a concurrent movement inside the car. The back and forth of sex happening.
His stomach turned. His head spun. His chest burned. He forgot he was on a call.
“It’s nothing mum. I have to go, See you on Saturday.” He cut the call.
He was confused. They were having sex. Chidi was fucking Alero. Chidi was fucking fucking Alero. He was furious. He knew it would happen, but he thought he would get prep time. He pulled open her freezer and grabbed a bottle of vodka and drowned it. And the bottle drowned his tears, stopping them from flowing. Then he slid down the fridge door. He knew how he felt. He had felt that way once, he felt like something was taken away from him. It was twenty-three years ago. He was seven, and he had just been violated. He could not talk to anybody, tell them what he had been through, he had to suffer it alone.
The alcohol had started working immediately and he fell forward. He could see his little self in the shower, scrubbing till he bled and crying his lungs out. Then the puke came, the consequence of drowning in alcohol. He scurried off the ground and rushed to her bathroom to let out the poison, still holding back his tears.
As the alcohol came out with his lunch, so did his sense. “But she does not belong to you. The voice in his head said.” It was present even though he was in Alero’s apartment.
“You’ve been parasitising off her emotions.” It said as another bout of vomit poured into the toilet. “She has a life. She should have one. And so should you.”
Femi began to pant, the vomit seemed to stop coming out. “Why are you trying to sound reasonable?” He asked the voice.
“Reasonable. That’s how you see it.” It laughed. “What are you trying to achieve by tying her down with sympathy?”
No, the vomit was not done coming out. “Fuck off.” He dismissed the voice. And it actually left.
He tried to force out any more vomit left in his system, but it was really gone now.
He got up and cleaned up. But was exhausted now and instead of heading to his apartment, he crashed on Alero’s bed. “I’ll let her go,” he said before falling asleep.