Fiction | February Love Stories
Old Flame: A Queer Love Story
Two former lovers meet again, this time older and much wiser
Two black SUVs and a red Lexus pulled up into the crowded car park, immediately arresting our attention. Even the live band performance in the background screeched to a halt.
Necks craned in a single direction. Whispers floated about, wildly speculating about the identity of the newly arrived alumni.
When four men in black suits bolted out of the SUVs, swarming the Lexus, I knew exactly who it was. The whispers confirmed my suspicion.
The door of the Lexus opened. She stepped out in a petite black dress that hugged her in all the right places.
The air stilled, as though the fabric of time itself had shredded.
Zinnia…
Like everyone, I was completely enamored of her. But unlike everyone, it had nothing to do with her fame. My heart raced at the mere sight of her, just as it did when we were teenagers.
She’d always been a paragon of beauty, with bountiful curly hair and rich dark skin that put ebony to shame. Her brown eyes still held the same warmth and kindness that sent shivers down my spine. But the young innocence I was used to was now replaced by mature sophistication that held me captive.
After all these years, how was it possible that this woman still did things to my entire being?
We first met during our high school orientation and became friends instantly. When we learned that we were both in the same class, we got even closer. Our friendship grew stronger, and by our final year, it evolved into something far more powerful that I couldn’t quite understand.
But I guess everyone else understood what I didn’t. Why else would they disapprove of our innocent intimacy? I didn’t blame them though. In our purist society as a whole, and Christian high school in particular, whatever I felt for Zinnia was unholy. Forbidden.
“Do you love Zinnia?” My classmate, Harley, asked me once. I didn’t realize her question was a trap. But Zinnia, thank God for her wit, picked on the subtle hostility immediately.
“She loves me like a sister,” she said in her sweet yet firm voice. And with that, Harley knew she had been dismissed.
I would learn from Zinnia years later that her friends had advised her to stay away from me because I was trying to turn her into a lesbian. The only reason a tomboy would be close to a girly girl was because she just wanted to touch her inappropriately. But since they had no proof (because there was none), they couldn’t report us to the school authorities.
If only they knew that what Zinnia and I had transcended the physical plane.
I knew she loved me just as much as I loved her. It was all in her eyes and body language. The way she smiled at me with dazzling eyes, while tracing my skin with the tips of her fingers.
And yet, I only mustered the courage to confess my feelings to her in our early twenties. Before I could worry about how my confession would doom our friendship, she pressed her lips against mine, kissing me deeply, snuffing all doubts out of my mind.
Our very first kiss — a new chapter in our epic love story.
Attending two very different universities in different parts of the country, we practically had a long-distance relationship. Yet the threads of fate pulled us even closer, and distance was but a mirage.
But all good things must come to an end, I suppose. Afraid of the extreme homophobia in the country, Zinnia ended our relationship.
“At the end of the day, I’m expected to be with a man,” she said between sobs on the phone. “I don’t want to waste your time, okay?”
“Love, please…” My chest caved into the pits of my stomach, crushed by the weight of the fucking planet.
Years later, I would finally understand that Zinnia was no coward for breaking up with me. But at that moment, when my heart bled, I accused her of cowardly giving up on us.
Smothered by a myriad of intense emotions, I deleted her number. We never heard from each other again, even after we graduated from school into the chaos of the real world.
Though we grew apart, she always had a special place in my heart, hence impossible to completely block her out of my life. So naturally, I would see her on social media whenever I logged in to scroll my life away.
Her career flourished; I was stuck in an endless cycle of self-sabotage. She pursued her dreams; I was a prisoner of mine.
Of course, I was proud of her. However, her success constantly reminded me of my stagnation, my mediocrity.
Then a few years passed, and the call came. It was her. She was devastated that I had thrown away our friendship. I was the one whose heart got broken, yet my insides gnawed with guilt when I heard the sadness in her voice. She wanted to talk — in person this time.
I knew I would get hurt all over again.
But saying no to her had always been my greatest weakness. So I met her at her place.
Nothing could have prepared me for what she told me. She wanted me back? What? Why?
This couldn’t possibly be real. Surely it was some cruel prank to reopen the fresh wounds of my heart, right?
“I still love you, Olivia.” Words that made my world stop. How I had longed to hear those very words from her. “I want you back if you’d still have me.”
If I’d still have her? Was there even a question about that? Not once did I doubt my feelings for her. Not a day went by that I didn’t fantasize about us building a life together — an image branded to the crevices of my mind ever since we were love-struck teenagers.
My god, I never stopped wanting her — more than anything in the world.
But…
“I still care about you, Zinnia.” I struggled to find the right words to make this as painless as possible. “I really do, but I’m sorry. We can’t get back together.” Seeing the light die in her eyes broke my heart all over again. I quickly added, “I hope you find happiness though. I know there’s someone out there for you. Someone who will love and cherish you for as long as you live, because you truly deserve it. Unfortunately, that person can’t be me. I’ve already moved on. I’m sorry. But we can still be friends.”
We maintained a cordial relationship, occasionally texting each other and sharing memes here and there. But as we both got busier with our lives, we finally fell out of touch, estranged once more.
It was the last I saw or heard of her unless seeing her billboards and hearing her songs everywhere counted.
I didn’t think I would see her again until today at our high school reunion.
Her gaze lingered on me briefly, speaking to me with a thousand unspoken words. She ran her fingers through her hair, smiled, and then turned away to the stage as her name was announced to a thunderous applause.
I thought I had psychologically prepared myself to see her. I was so full of shit. The only reason I came to the reunion was because Sophie dragged me here herself.
Sophie and I weren’t close in high school. However, since we went to the same university and sat in the same class, we soon became friends. Somehow she had figured out that Zinnia and I had a history. I tried to deny it at first, fearing that she would out my ex, subjugating her to public ridicule.
But I was wrong. She was a beacon of support. “I’m sorry she broke up with you,” Sophie said, years after I had finally told her about the details of our relationship. “But maybe you should understand where she was coming from. You know how it is in this country, right?”
I did. And with time, I accepted that maybe Zinnia wasn’t a coward for breaking up with me after all. But that didn’t make it hurt less, of course.
The familiar melody of melancholy whisked me out of my thoughts, transporting me to an enchanting world where Zinnia’s siren voice reigned supreme.
Old Flame. Her biggest hit ever.
As our gazes locked, my heart pounded with every strum of the guitar. The world disappeared, and all I saw was her — the only woman I’d ever loved — singing for me.
Each line struck me in the gut, cutting me in places I never even knew existed. It was too painful — this ache in my heart. I quickly grabbed a glass of white wine from the passing server and downed it one gulp. God, I needed some air. My first time making it to my high school reunion and it was a fucking disaster.
I bumped into someone as soon as I turned around. It was Sophie, with a sad smile plastered on her face. She could always see right through me. I hated it when she did that.
“What?”
“Are you okay?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I’m good.”
“Then why are you leaving?” She folded her arms, challenging me to refute. It would be futile to do so. She was a clinical psychologist — I didn’t stand a chance. When I said nothing, Sophie sighed. “Liv, you can’t keep running away from her.”
I raised a brow, ready to challenge her this time. “What are you talking about? I’ve never run away from her. We’re not even together.”
“Oh yeah? Then why don’t you tell her the truth? She deserves to know.”
“What truth?” I knew what. It was easier to pretend I didn’t.
Sophie touched my shoulder gently. “Talk to her, Liv. I’m not saying you should get back together or whatever. But you need closure. Both of you. It’s the only way you can truly be at peace. But the choice is ultimately yours.”
Sophie was right. To let go of my trauma, I needed to talk to my former lover. My old flame.
When the crowd erupted in cheers and applause, I knew Zinnia’s performance was over. She bowed to the audience and got off the stage while still staring at me. As if my legs had a mind of their own, I dragged myself towards her direction. At first, I thought her bodyguards would stop me. But they parted out of my way instead.
Wordlessly, Zinnia invited me to follow her to one of the few empty gazebos away from the main premises.
We stared silently at each other for a while, basking in our presence. I wanted to commit everything about her to memory. How the hell did I convince myself that I was over this woman?
“That was a beautiful performance,” I finally broke the silence. “Zinnia.” I cringed internally. I was so used to calling her pet names like love, beautiful, and gorgeous. Zinnia didn’t quite roll on the tongue like that. But I reminded myself that I’d lost the right to call her anything other than that.
She ran her fingers through her hair. “Thank you.”
The song… was it about me? Maybe not. But I’ve always wanted to know. Still, it felt quite inappropriate to ask.
“You and Sophie,” she interrupted my thoughts, “you seem close.” She tried to make it sound casual, but her eyes betrayed her emotions.
“We are.” I wasn’t trying to hurt her, but there was no point in hiding anything. “We were course mates in the university.”
She nodded
Silence.
The strong urge to clarify myself overwhelmed me. “Sophie and I are just friends.”
“I’m sorry, Olivia. This is none of my business. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Then I grinned.
Her mortified expression morphed into amusement. “What?”
“Olivia?” I chuckled. “No one’s called me that in years.” Except for the few people who knew me way back in my preteens.
“I guess I’m not used to calling you Teiko. That’s the name you write under, right? Teiko Tetteh?”
“Yes.” My eyes suddenly widened. “How did you know that?”
“I’ve read all your books, Olivia. All thirteen of them.”
“Oh…”
She laughed, probably amused by my stupefied gaze.
“So should I call you Teiko then? Or Liv?”
“You can call me whatever you want, Zinnia.”
She bit her lower lip slightly, and I swear my heart somersaulted. The longing in her eyes weakened my knees. She wanted me just as much as I wanted her, I was certain. It was all in her eyes. The same way she gazed at me when we were lovers.
All I had to do was tell her the truth — why I rejected her even though I still loved her. Yet, I dared not broach the subject. What was wrong with me? My books were full of characters who took action despite their fears. But I was a total coward. Was I always so full of shit then? Had I fooled myself into thinking that I had grown more courageous and confident over the years?
Zinnia sighed. “I um… I should go, Olivia it was nice seeing you again though.”
She turned to leave. It was now or never. I grabbed her hand softly. “Please don’t go.”
She paused, staring at my hand, then at my face with puzzlement.
I let go of her immediately. But Zinnia didn’t walk away. Not anymore. This time her soft gaze demanded an explanation.
“The song,” I managed to string out, “Old Flame…”
“Yes.” She nodded. “It’s about you. About us.”
I paused. “I’m sorry. For hurting you.”
“Hey,” she rubbed my bicep, sending shivers down my spine. “I was the one who broke up with you, Olivia. I had no right to think I could just waltz back into your life when you’d already moved on.”
“I never moved on.” The words poured out faster and louder than I had intended. Zinnia gaped, eyes wide open. Then in a softer, slower tone, I repeated, “I never moved on, Zinnia.”
A long pause ensued before Zinnia broke the silence. “You said you didn’t want me back. That you’d moved on.”
“I did.” I nodded. “It was a lie.”
“Why?”
Why? For years I asked myself the same question. If I never stopped loving her, my first and only love, why did I ruin the one chance of getting her back? Deep down, I’d always known why. But it took me until recently to finally make my peace with it and stop hating myself so much for my choice.
“I didn’t want you to hate me,” I confessed.
“What? I could never-”
The dam finally broke inside me. “Zinnia, when you asked me to come back, I was a loser. You didn’t know it yet. But I struggled to make ends meet. My writing career was total shit. And I was drowning in a ton of bad habits. I hated my life so much. If I had agreed to be with you, my negative energy would surely have corrupted my love for you. It scared me, Zinnia, imagining a future where you resented me. I didn’t want that for us.”
“My goodness, Olivia, I loved you so much. I would have supported you through your hard times.”
“But that’s the problem. You care too much about people.” I smiled bitterly. “I’ve seen how people take advantage of your empathy. Draining you. I could never do the same to you. Maybe things would have turned out better between us. But there was also a good chance you would hate me. I wasn’t going to take that chance. To me, it was much better having you as an old lover who I’m still friends with than as the shitty partner you hate.”
“You’ve been living with this burden all along?”
I nodded. “I swear I never stopped thinking about you. I tried. But I couldn’t.”
“What are you saying?” she whispered, not for a second taking her eyes off me.
“I’m saying that I’m still in love with you, Zinnia. I always have. I know it’s been years and you probably no longer feel the same way. Or maybe you’ve already found someone great. Either way, I just want you to know the truth before we go our separate ways. That’s all. I’m tired of lying to myself. To you. And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”
I didn’t expect us to get back together. But telling her the truth filled me with inner peace. Hopefully, all those nightmares would stop.
“I never found someone great,” she said in a small voice.
I raised a brow. That was hard to believe. Zinnia was God’s gift to humanity. Surely she had her fair share of exceptional suitors, no?
She shook her head. “Not one person loved me as purely as you did.”
“If it makes you feel better, I had the same experience.”
She chuckled, and coyly said, “I’m still single.”
“Same.” This was it. The perfect opportunity to get her back. But one thing still nagged at the back of my mind. It had traumatized me all these years, and I needed to get it out of the way. “Do you remember why you broke up with me back in uni?”
“I’ll never forget it,” said she. “I feared what people would think if they knew about us.”
I nodded. “Do you still feel the same way?”
Without hesitation, she said no. “I’m tired of pretending too, Olivia. I couldn’t care less if people know I’m in love with a woman… with you. Let them do their worst.”
I took her hand and caressed her soft palm. “Well, they’d have to get through me first, love.”
And then we smiled at each other.
Torshie Torto writes fiction, creative nonfiction, and everything in between. Get her stories in your inbox. If you love her work, do buy her a coffee. Thank you.
