I EAT FRESHERS FOR BREAKFAST

Asmat.

I remember she always smelled of lavender. I told her that nobody ever buys lavender perfume. We only use it as air freshener.

But she never changed her fragrance.

And now, every time I caught whiff of lavender, I can’t help but think of her. Even right now in the four corners of the Ebeano supermarket I shopped in, she was all I could think about.

I also can’t help but swallow the guilt that stayed stuck in my throat for all these years since I left her behind in the university. The first and last place I saw her.

When I met Asmat, I assumed she was a Hausa or Yoruba Muslim. Her name likened to Asmau or Halimat.

But she was from Bayelsa.

She was an Eckist.

She didn’t believe in Jesus or Prophet Mohammed. She considered herself a soul traveler. It was probably why my soul felt high when I was around her. She had probably stolen my soul to heaven and back because this girl drove me crazy.

It was until days later that I found out she was a cannibal. Not Asmat herself. Her name— the tribe of Asmat people in Indonesia. She was no Indonesian but her Bayelsa parents thought it was creative to name her after such people.

Asmat was a Nursing student. A fresher in her 100-level. Diligent. Cautious. Disconnected from the social world. She only visited two places on the university campus. Her classroom and her hostel.

What attracted me to Asmat was one thing: she reminded me of my mother. Timid, patient and always smiling. Clumsy too. I liked my girls like that because you can tell they don’t have regard for themselves.

I liked a girl who was nervous. Who looked at anywhere but my eyes. Who stuttered a lot when speaking. They were the easiest to mould.

And Asmat was the exact thing this 400-level Computer Science bad boy needed to kick start the new school year.

“My name is Bayo.” I introduced myself to her one day.

“Oh, another Yoruba demon for us to avoid.” Her friend hissed. I don’t remember that bitch’s name, but all I knew was she smelled like expired roll-on.

“I’m Edo.” I corrected, my eyes fixated on Asmat. “My full name is Bayonne. And just like you, my parents googled a random place to name me.”

She didn’t respond. She only stared blankly at the empty space around me, wanting to be anywhere but here— speaking to me, or rather, me speaking to her.

I could tell she didn’t like boys. Not within her vicinity. She looked scared, but also curious. And that was what made me hang around— that curiosity in her eyes. I wanted to take her into a world that she had never dreamed of.

They say every girl loves a bad boy. Not because of the sweetness of our mouths, or the charmingness of our confidence. But because the world told them to. The movies told them it was exciting. The books they read had given them a life map even before they took their first trip. The world was at our feet and our flaws were covered by the oceans of our aura.

It was only a matter of time for me to leave footprints on Asmat’s sanity.

But first, I had to find out what Asmat liked.

Come to find out it was another bad boy. Gu Jun-pyo. Some random tall dude with bathing sponge hair in a kdrama she loves called Boys Before Flowers.

Come to think of it, that nigga was everything I represented. Tall, rich, popular, nonchalant, always got things my way, and somewhat dumb. But that was where Asmat was to come in. To teach me how to study and balance my laziness with her diligence. The ying to my yang.

I found Asmat’s third hide-out. The library. She looked terrified when I sat next to her. And I enjoyed it.

My friends say I eat freshers for breakfast. A hunter. Always on the hunt for something new—and raw.

Asmat stopped coming to the library because of me. And I found her other hide-out. The clinic.

She almost passed out when she saw me.

“Why are you always following me?” She asked in frustration.

“I like you, and I want you to be my girlfriend.”

It was as simple as that.

“I came to school to study, not make friends.”

I laughed.

“How many years is nursing again? 5? 6? So you want to go that long without kissing a boy? See, there’s a reason they call you freshers. You’re new. You’re exciting. You’re here to experiment. Leave all that studies for when you reach 300 level. By the time you reach 400 level, you think any boy go look your side? You be old cargo by then.” I banged the table and stood up. “Better think about what you’re going to miss out.”

By the time I met Asmat again in the canteen, she didn’t flinch or run away as she always did. This time, she looked me in the eye and the curiosity had grown in them— for me. It was the second most satisfying feeling in the world. The first? Was everything I was going to do to this girl.

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