What if We Rewrite the Stars?

...it's up to you, and it's up to me

1

This was what happiness meant. ‘Happiness,’ because she couldn’t call it joy. Only Jesus gave joy. So, to describe what she felt at the moment, she settled for ‘beyond happy.’ Toyosi was beyond happy. Her insides flushed as she ran over all the wedding details with her mum and two sisters. The wedding wasn’t still for another six months, but if there was anything her family had learned from her late father, it was the essence of over-preparation.  She’d been waiting for these moments for a little over three years. Picking a venue. Getting a dress. Going through the list of invites. The list of things to do was endless, but it excited her. Since she met Femi, she knew she wanted that Yoruba Demon forever.

That faithful day, the rain had no plan of wrapping up its parade any sooner. From behind the thick lenses of her eyewear, she saw no way to continue her journey towards the Faculty headquarters popularly called White House, but would time wait for her? She needed to be at the Faculty building in the next ten minutes if she had any hope of getting the Dean to sign this letter permitting her to borrow equipment from the Faculty lab. The uncertainty of what to do left her anxious, her legs doing cute alternate jumps where she stood. She peered at her wristwatch again; time was flying by at the speed of light. In no time, she took to the only panacea she knew, music. Plugging her ears, her eyes closed to the tenderness of Zac Efron’s voice as he preceded the bloom of the tranquil music of ”Rewrite the stars.” The soothing music drowned out the noise of rain hitting the roof above her. And for a moment, everything felt right. Everything felt whole. No yells from her terrible supervisor. No undergraduate practical sessions to tend to. No greenhouse plants to monitor and measure. Just her. Music. And rain. But, like everything else on the OAU campus, her heels began to stress her. She shifted slightly in the five inches high shoes, definitely looking forward to when she’d get to fling them in whatever direction once she entered her room. Then, his voice hovered somewhere very distant in the background before she could cuss out the words “these pretty damned heels.” Unplugging her ears gently, she turned to look at the fleshy disturbance to her rare moment of peace. There he was, a tall, not-spectacularly looking man. Her person doesn’t find six-foot-tall men spectacular. Especially those with a ripped body frame hugging tightly to the insides of their round-necked shirts while holding an umbrella dripping water on her. To make her impression of him worse, he asked a question different from what he had earlier said to her plugged ears,

“Who wears heels on a Friday on the OAU campus?”

“Maybe someone looking for an official meeting with the busy Dean of Science,” she replied curtly, trying as much as she could to infuse enough rudeness that’d tell him she didn’t appreciate being disturbed just when Zendaya’s verse was coloring into her subconscious.

Femi backed up, realizing that his umbrella had been wrongly placed in this scene. The left side of his mouth pulled in the direction of his ear in an ‘oops.’ “Apologies, I didn’t mean to intrude. I just wanted to be friendly. And I’m certainly not trying to flirt or make a move on you. I know that’s going to be hard to believe anyway.”

“Yes, it is. This is the OAU campus. Every tall, six-packed guy thinks he has the right to walk up to any lady and tell her how beautiful she looked and how he NEEDS her number.”

“I get you. We guys can be assholes sometimes. But this isn’t one of those times. I just wanted to call your attention to the exposure of your handbag. It’s open, and you’re already engrossed in your music; any random person can pick your wallet, and you won’t know.”

Toyosi’s mind went to the year before, her first year as a Masters’ student. Then, her wallet containing fifty thousand naira was stolen because she forgot to zip her bag. For a moment, his reply to her accusation of the behavior of OAU men caught her unawares. Then the feeling of guilt seeped into her consciousness. Maybe she had been unnecessarily harsh. Maybe. But how was she supposed to know? So, she turned in the direction she was faced before he came around. As expected, she was no longer in the mood to listen to her music. A few seconds passed, and she wondered why he was still standing behind her, humming and tapping his foot in rhythm to whatever music was now playing in his earpiece. He spoke as though he read her mind, or maybe he saw when her head swerved slightly to have a side-eye view of his presence.

“I know I have an umbrella, but I’m only waiting here ‘cos my friend is coming to pick me up.” he tried to get a hold of her eyes from behind. “So, no pressure. I can also move if you feel uncomfortable.”

Great. He just had to pile on her guilt, right? Nonsense.

“You don’t have to do that. I’d be leaving soon anyway,” Toyosi said, tucking her earpiece and phone in the bag, looking to plunge into the rain and soak the peach-colored blazer and skirt she wore. Great plan. One that was going to be worth it if the Dean gave her the equipment needed for the second phase of her research – if the lab works she did on this campus could be called that.

“You’ll enter the rain? Is your destination that urgent?”

“In fact, yes, it is, Mr…” she eyed him on cue that it was time to complete the sentence with his name.

“Femi.”

“Mr. Femi.” She emphasized, trumping any hope he might have for her to call him by his first name.

She motioned to get started with her rainy trip, but he proved, again, that he had a knack for bumping into her carefully laid out plan.

“Do you mind having my umbrella? I won’t be needing it getting into the car anyways.”

Toyosi’s instinct was to emphasize ‘no’ with an obviously forced, broad smile that’ll have her eyes squinted at the sides. But she decided to accept the favor she knew was ‘pretty privilege.’

“Thanks,” she said and grabbed the umbrella from his stretched-out arm. She didn’t think of him until she was called into the Dean’s office, and the scruffy-looking Prof. Ajibola said, “I didn’t know you knew Femi.”

She didn’t know Femi, which was evident in her first response. “Who’s Femi?” she asked the Dean meekly, scanning her brain through databases for every lecturer in her department, friends she had spoken to about her equipment need, faculty members she had met, etc. Not for a second did it occur to her that it was the nonsense man who gave her the umbrella till the Dean replied to her.

“Femi Agunloye from Anatomy. He said he was with you just now.” The Dean didn’t bother waiting for her response or confirm if she knew who he was talking about. “I wish you had brought him with you. He’s a smart young man and popular in Unilag, where he did his undergraduate studies. I was still hoping to get his supervisor to approve him escorting me to Unilag next week so that he can introduce me to his father. Professor Agunloye is such a hard man to meet. You must have heard of him, right?”

Toyosi was wondering what gibberish the Dean spewed till that last statement. ‘Father.’ ‘Professor Agunloye.’ ‘Unilag.’

“You mean the Professor Agunloye of the Chemistry Department at Unilag?”

“Yes. The one and only.”

The Dean chuckled as he waltzed toward a shelf on the opposite side of the room. Granting Femi a favor certainly meant the boy would be more open to repaying with an excursion to Lagos next week, or sometimes later. Calling in favors was the modus operandi in academia. “So, what was it that you needed from me?”

Toyosi had to stop her train of thoughts, answer him, and get on with why she was there. As the Dean later put pen to her paper and scribbled, her mind hypothesized and continued an evaluation into why the random man had called the Dean ahead on her behalf. Did she look pitiful? No. Rude was what she was to him. Was he trying to impress her? Doubtful. He didn’t even ask her name. Many more questions ensued and disappeared without answers.

But after that day, frequency illusion kicked in. The Biological Sciences building (B.O.O) and OAU, as a whole, shrunk with each meeting. Toyosi and Femi crossed paths more frequently. A series of subsequent B.O.O path-crosses. Several deliberate invites to discussions at OAU’s Motion Ground. Numerous hangouts at the school’s New Market. Seldom trips to Lagos during the remainder of their Masters' education. The happy moments. The baseless quarrels. The necessary altercations. The Post-Masters tech career kick-off for Toyosi. The academia-continua realities of Femi. A lot has happened leading up to these moments.

It’s been three years since that first meeting, and it remained one of the many beautiful memories they shared on their journey to matrimony. Now and then, to whoever cared to listen, Toyosi loved reminiscing about her journey of love with Femi. He didn’t turn out to be one of those devilish Yoruba Demons. It’s been heaven on earth with the Ondo State boy and forever didn’t seem like it’d be enough for her. But it was a start. That first meeting in B.O.O foyer; it looked like a scene straight out of a Ali Hazelwood novel. Academia. Smart hot male lead. Eventual love….

“Yeah. Yeah. We know. You don’t have to go into all the other mushy and steamy details. You’ve told your story a thousand and one times.” Ariyiike butt in as she folded one of the sample materials back into the polythene bag from whence it came.

“How are we even sure she’s not been adding some lines from all the romance novels she reads into this story?” Toyosi’s other sister, the youngest one, joked, risking a chase from her sister.

“Ariyiike, why are you saying she shouldn’t go into the steamy details? You girls are old enough, and I want all these gossips, please. Old age is boring.” Toyosi’s mum said.

“Ha! Mummy, first, it’s not called gossip when the subject of discussion is sitting in front of you. Second, if Toyosi goes into her love story, a book will show forth, and we won’t decide on the cloth for the wedding on time. I have an article to finish writing, please” As much as Bimpe, the youngest sister, loved being with her family, working so hard to support herself without calling for help was very important to her.

“Soon, it’ll be your turn to wed, and Ariyiike will tell you she’s choosing cutting materials over your preparation. Watch and see.” mother replied, groaning to a stand. Arthritis is hell.

The shuffles, plastic bag rustles, and fabric showcases continued, but Toyosi’s mind had drifted. She peered at the wall clock. Femi was supposed to be here. Friday date night was non-negotiable. It’s been a tradition since their journey began, with the intention of continuing through family development. Her eyes bore witness to her mind’s yearnings and squinted.

“Bimpe, can you please switch the light off?”

“Is your eyes still troubling you?” Ariyiike asked her soon-to-be-bride little sister.

“When has it not troubled me?” Toyosi replied with a chuckle but quickly stringed further words to dismiss any cause for worry. Today was a day that’d been full of laughter; she wasn’t going to let her myopia and photophobia pour sand in her garri.

While Bimpe switched on a dimmer light in the living room and subsequently went to join her mother in the kitchen, Toyosi took time to reassure her older sister that she was okay. An air of brilliance and sophisticated iridescence descended on the room as Femi pushed the front door in. His charming smile tailing his ‘Helloooo.’ His voice sauntered around Toyosi’s head, and she didn’t even need to get a crispy clear view of who came in before joy leaped her from the sofa and into the waiting arms of the handsome man who always made her twenty-six years old self feel like a baby. Right there in his arm, she ignored her sister's presence and reached for the only cure to her migraine. His lower lip was tender, unclad, unlike the upper lip clothed in a mustache that joins his beard. Her arms wrapped around his neck, leveraging the hold to climb him to her toes. She sank further into him, and he engulfed her into a firm yet subtle fold. As the fusion of mouths continued, Toyosi swirled so Femi’s back could be towards her sister. She knew he wanted to glide over her ass with his un-callused palm gently, but didn’t because of her sister. Her mind spoke to his. He knew why she swirled. Ignoring the chuckling, mocking coughs of Ariyiike in the background, Femi sat his hand on the curvature of her behind. Not doing too much. After all, this was his in-law’s place. But there was a caught.

“Why didn’t you all tell me that my parlor is now your hotel room?” Mother’s voice echoed from somewhere upstairs, her voice carrying a hefty dose of amusement.

The shameless couple split instantly, with smiles and giggles. Toyosi thought her mother was in the kitchen; when did she go up the stairs?

“You just can’t wait till that day. You have to show me that my daughter is now your other body. Right?” Mother queried as she descended the stairs. “Just go, take her with you. Don’t start doing rough plays on my hallowed sofa.”

“You know your daughter, mummy. He knows he’s not getting into the cookie jar until the deal is signed.” Toyosi tried to defend.

“Does he now?” Bimpe was asking, inviting the wrath of her sister’s glare and clenched teeth. Shut the F up!

Before any more questions could be asked, Toyosi grabbed her purse and dragged her man out of the house, to the amusement of her entire family. Making out in the car could have been the beginning to the end of their day, but Femi was talking about an ophthalmologist at the hospital beside the new apartment he secured in preparation for the big day. With a promise to spend the night at her place, after their date later in the night, Toyosi followed obediently. He knew she would disagree if he had told her about visiting a hospital earlier. The insides of the eye doctor’s office only served to reinforce the reason she didn’t want to be there. The smell of hospitals was wearing her out. So, her resolve was rather than going for checks, getting replacement lenses on her old prescription. Hopefully, she’d be out in no time once the old diagnosis reflects in the new tests Femi made her do.

The doctor-is-coming-back-from-laboratory pleasantries came and passed, and it was time for the crux of the matter.

“It’s worse than we think, Femi.” The doctor began, hands-on deck, eyes pacing between the bride and groom. “Had she been doing frequent tests on the eye, it’d have been discovered that her initial diagnosis of myopia and photophobia is wrong. Degenerative myopia. That’s what we’re dealing with here.”

Whatever it was, it sounded terrible. Femi knew it, but he kept calm. Toyosi swallowed hard as her long braided hair suddenly took on more weight.

“That’s bad?” Femi wished he didn’t ask.

“Yes, it is.” Dr. Chris paused, finally focusing his gaze on Toyosi. “There’s no cure known as of now. And ‘degenerative’ means it’d keep getting worse till…” a heavy heave sank the doctor’s ‘don’t be emotional’ resolve.

Toyosi resisted all urges to check all about this diagnosis on Google right there and then. Instead, she watched as the doctor’s expression conveyed more details of her burgeoning reality. The talks continued about how her symptoms of; sensitivity to light, blurred visions, headaches, difficulty recognizing faces, and a gray spot in her visual field all stemmed from this problem. Her lack of regular check-ups didn’t give room to discover that her myopia had a worsening progression. Lasik, anti-VEGF therapy, Photodynamic therapy, vitrectomy, nothing will work. Now, “it’s beyond repairs. The end of it is total blindness. I’m sorry, Ms. Toyosi.”

Ms. Toyosi. The current title on her name seemed to reverberate in the air. Ms. Ms. That’s what she was going to remain. Ms. Her mind ‘tranced.’ Her legs stood. Her world spun. Her man steadied her. Home. She needed to be home. But home did nothing to make this nightmare dissipate. She sat on her favorite sofa, eyes drilling holes in the opposite wall, mind thinking nothing. Blackness swallowed her whole world. She closed her eyes briefly to simulate how her life would be soon. Dark. Void. Gloomy. Tears rolled out from beneath her shut lids as she wondered how life changed within two hours. She could feel Femi beside her, his hands on her shoulders. But the magic had deserted those hands. His hands used to give her a calm effect that he was there. That he had her back. But now, she felt alone.

“We’ll beat this, babe,” Femi began. “We just need to rest tonight, and tomorrow we’d start finding solutions.”

He tried to be calm. But she could feel his fear. She could feel that he panicked, deep down in his belly. Blindness. Total loss of sight. These were the two words that populated the first, second, third, fourth, fifth…and nineteenth pages of the Google search result she got while they drove home.

“Six months. It’s six months to our wedding, Femi” Toyosi finally got her tired self to voice.

“Yes. I know. And we’ll still get married,” Femi said with conviction, kneeling in front of her.

Toyosi rose to her feet. Hysteric laughter bellowed out of her. Her hands flapped comically in the air. Shrieks rocketed out of her. Yells at nothing, and no one rummaged out of her belly. Tears bawled out of her existence. Her wig responded to her throw in any direction. Her footstool traveled towards the television she angrily sent it, accompanied by a roar of pain. Femi had never seen her like this. He rushed in, wrapping his hands around her in a firm grip. “I’m here, baby.”

“You are here?” Pain, amusement, and wonder mashed out of Toyosi in a peal of loud laughter. “How can there be any wedding when I’d be blind in six months or less?” Toyosi cried more. “Tell me, Femi. Will you marry me? Will your family allow you to marry me?”

.

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See you on Tuesday with Episode 2.

Meanwhile,