Bitter (Pet #0.5)

by Akwaeke Emezi

“I so glad yuh okay.”

When she came out, Blessing shaved her head and patted it dry with rose water before Bitter climbed into bed. “That’s enough from allyuh,” she said. “I good from here.” “You sure you gonna be okay?” Blessing asked. Bitter squeezed her hand. “Yuh done too much, even. Please go and rest.” As supportive as Blessing tried to be, she couldn’t hide the dark circles under her eyes and the sadness that had settled into the bones of her face. Alex looked worn out and close to fracture; all of them had paid a toll. They hugged Bitter and left, and Bitter pulled her covers over her head as soon as they were gone.

She stayed like that for the next few days, only leaving her bed to take perfunctory showers and eat once in a while. Blessing kept checking on her over text, and Bitter kept lying that she was doing great, insisting that her best friend stay cocooned with Alex. It would be better for Blessing that way, to be in the arms of the person who loved her. She didn’t need to be babysitting Bitter, and Bitter didn’t need anyone’s help. Her part in the revolution was done, bloody and complete.

“Sometimes we have to trust that the ones we love will find their way back to us,” Miss Virtue replied. Bitter glanced over at her. The air between them had changed ever since Miss Virtue split into stone.

Miss Virtue tilted her head. “It shouldn’t be the same. I made the choices I made to keep you in the dark, but we can all make different choices.” She gave another smile, this one tinged with sadness. “I broke your trust, Bitter. And the trust of the other students. I will spend as long as it takes to rebuild it.” Bitter nodded, a knot in her chest loosening up a bit.

Aloe was a shade darker than when he’d left, his skin smoothed out by the sun. “Can I come cuddle with you?” Bitter nodded, words too thick for her tongue. Aloe nudged off his shoes, then took off his jacket and climbed into the bed with her. She let out a deep breath as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He smelled like lemons and outside.

All Bitter wanted was the exact same thing she had wanted before—peace and quiet. Her friends around her. Aloe’s smile in her mornings. The only difference was that she now knew precisely how high the price of that was, how the costs could be bled out of you.

Bitter looked down at his face, his patient and gentle eyes, his gorgeous mouth. “I want to take care of you, Aloe. I want to give you somewhere safe and soft to rest, just like you does do for me.” Aloe leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose.

“I definitely needed to get away to the farm, and it helped me see that we have time now, you know? Like, I think I know how I want to help people, but I have time to figure it out. We have time to imagine whatever we want and make it real. That’s the Lucille we live in, that’s what we can give to ourselves and each other.”

“Bitter, you are my whole heart. I wish I could tell our kids everything about you one day.” She poked his ribs, even as her heart soared at how easily he made it sound like they would have decades together. “Doh you dare. We all agreed: none of this happened.” “Yeah, yeah. A new world, a clean start.” He tangled his fingers up with hers. Bitter had never been the one who said the romantic things in their relationship. That was always Aloe, the dreamer, the soft and hopeful one. But in these days, her feelings were clear and precise, and she was no longer afraid. “I’ll love you in any world,” she whispered. “I promise.”

Writing this book was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, what with the pandemic, escalating civil unrest, and a body that has become progressively more disabled over the past few years. I am endlessly grateful to every single person who fed my discipline throughout the years, because that rigor is what got me through. As always, I could not make this work without the community that holds me up.

To Katherine Agyemaa Agard, for literally typing for me, week after week, over Zoom sessions, when I lost the ability to write or use a keyboard. I can never tell you how much it meant.

To Ann Daramola, for loving this book, asking the best questions, and reminding me to send them back for Mr. Nelson. Thinking through books ...

To Gwendolyn Brooks, Assata Shakur, and Mariame Kaba, for your work and your words.

I hope these stories help.

akwaeke emezi is an honoree on the National Book Foundation’s “5 Under 35” list, a long-list nominee for the Carnegie Medal for Excellence, and a short-list nominee for the Center for Fiction’s First Novel Prize. Their first novel for young adults, Pet, was a National Book Award finalist and received numerous awards and accolades, including a Stonewall Honor, a Walter Honor, and an Otherwise Award Honor, after debuting with five starred reviews. Their adult debut, Freshwater, received rave reviews from the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, the New Yorker, and the Los Angeles Times. Their sophomore adult novel, The Death of Vivek Oji, was an instant New York Times bestseller. Their most recent book is Dear Senthuran: A Black Spirit Memoir.