Wild West of the Heart
THIRTY-NINE

Mira was perfect.

Well, Michael Adebayo was. Not the natural kind of perfect but the kind that came from practice.

She felt she had to be just the right amount of a human. And of a person. Attain this fictional level of perfection, who could blame her, when it was how she was brought up.

Michael was born into a traditionally royal family, having a father that was linked to some title back at home, she didn't know what it was but it was because no one talked about it much but her great grandfather was a chief in Nigeria's colonial days and the future plan was that she, as well as her father and her whole family move back to Ondo.

Maybe to finally claim his rightful position on a throne. It was something no one bothered about that then and instead he put all of that energy into moulding Mira-

"Practice makes perfect" He'd yell across the field to her as she ran between hurdles and stumbling blocks. Her father would have a whistle in his hand, timing her every move. And each time, she didn't meet up, it was more time added for her. And as punishment, Mira might get flogged or have to sleep on the front porch till the next training. That way she was always kept grounded, knowing what was at stake-

she knew she couldn't fuck up.

Daniel wanted her to be a football star, or with that height maybe basketball. So he tried his best to build up her muscles and her pace. And make her as strong as a man. As strong as he was.

He'd look into her eyes and yell to her that the world wasn't very kind to men, and you needed to be a certain level of strong for you to keep going.

To keep pushing.

And for the first few years, Mira was living her father's dream. But then she turned ten, and she begun to figure out her love for ballet. She'd sneak out between her father's training with the stereo in her arms and she'd dance in the rain, flaunting the flexibility she gained from her father's practices.

She realized then, she wanted to be a dancer. And not some wonderkid soccer star.

She hated it, but she couldn't tell her father.

Because what if he does worse than flogging her? What if he kicks her out? And her mother wasn't exactly the kind to stand up to him or to anything.

It was just her, and Daniel.

But at least her mother knew from the moment she was born, that she was different. They both knew, it was why they tried so hard to change her.

Mira didn't realize she was a boy until she was like four years old, and the only memory she could recall was her teacher yelling at her to get out of the girl's bathroom. That, she was a boy.

The news came as heartbreaking, because Mira would often wear dresses and get excited over her mother's pair of heels. She loved makeup and wrappers, and all that glittering shit.

Her mother found her one day in a pair of her sinful red stilettos, and eventually she was told about how Mira was in school.

All she did was give her an hour long speech on why she needed to change. She didn't push as much as her husband, Daniel. Because what's the worst that could come out of having an effeminate son? But then Daniel found out.

And he took it upon himself to change her. And the more intensity he brought to her, the more she leaned to dancing to take her mind off everything. To free her soul, and the body she was trapped in. Some days, her father would have high esteemed guests coming and he'd have her up in a suit and boots, nothing too feminine because he was ashamed. Ashamed of Mira.

Ashamed of what they might say if she did as much as talk, or be too extra, which in retrospect was just being herself. It was why she spent most of her days at home, with the maid who she grew closer to by the day. And asides DaSilva and her other friends then, she didn't feel as though anyone really got her.

They all just wanted one thing. For her to change.

To be perfect, and fit into this unattainable standard society had laid down for boys. That they had to be muscular to be respected. That they had to bottle up all their emotions. To never cry nor be vulnerable. Because that was weakness. They had to be perfect.

Mira hated all of that bullshit.

And the older she grew, the more she saw through the cracks. And by the time she was eighteen, she dropped out of university and left the house with nothing but her favorite pair of heels and some chicken change. She wanted to live, and be free.

If you ask anyone, living on the streets in the 80s was tough, but if you ask Mira she'll tell you all about it. About how she was mugged on a daily basis and assaulted by the men she met by the roadside. It was one of the reasons she hated who she was, because of the men she grew up around.

One day, she got jumped in this little tent she had under the bridge by some drunk guys and she can vividly remember how they beat her, and broke her shit. Everyone hated her around there, because of the way she talked and dressed. For that year before she clocked twenty, Mira explored her innermost identity but none of it went well. She found an apartment, that she was able to pay for with a meagre income she got from working as a cashier in a local store. But then she got evicted as well by her catholic landlord because she was too much.

And that was her last straw, and what eventually pushed her back into the closet. To keep hiding in.

When she moved out of her parent's house, it was with the intention to replace herself, outside of her family's expectations. Or their need to be perfect. But then she was immediately showed the most brutal parts of the world and the state she lived in.

And she had to do it all by herself.

Her parents never called after she left, although they might have heard from prying neighbors that they'd seen her living in the streets.

They didn't reach out either way, and she had also lost touch with Dasilva as well, it was all when she had to sell of her phone to feed.

Life after eighteen was tumultuous for her. And countless of times, she'd actually walked up the beach and pictured herself going under. It's not as if the world would care, after what it'd shown her.

But then something always held her back.

Until one day, she was there.

And she was seated in the sands and she saw a boy across. He was in nothing but an underwear, building castles out of sand. He was messy and he might have been too close to the waters. She remembered standing up, and walking over to him. Now, she was not a fan of mystical beliefs and superstitions until that moment-

-but it was pretty much the butterfly effect.

Because as soon as tapped that boys shoulders, her life changed. He had dark hair, and eyes that glistened in the moon. "Hey, i'm Michael" She said to the boy that looked like he was seven or so. He had missing front teeth as he turned around.

He was a bit hesitant as Mira pulled him backwards. But as she sat close to him, he replied.

"I'm Obi"

Over the course of one night, Mira gravitated towards this boy and she saw alot of her in him. He didn't have a father, because he'd died a year ago. And his mother had just left.

He was all alone, and so was Mira. But she knew she couldn't let him die of cold by the waters. He was enthusiastic like every little boy should be.

And somehow he'd taken her mind of what she was initially there to do. To kill herself. She'd like to think of it like they both saved each other that day because they left in each other's arms.

Now Obi had a home then, in which they spent a few weeks. And Mira was finally getting herself back, her life was normal, when she toned herself down. She cut off her braids, and shaved her hair.

And always wore baggy, masculine passing clothes. She never neared makeup, and she trained her gait in front of the mirror each day. She made sure she never smiled much, or talked much. I mean it wouldn't hurt to just fit into the lenses of society for once.

She was down, but at least she had money.

She had a job and a roof over her head. She also had a friend. And that was Obi. It was not until months later that she reconnected with DaSilva and they met up for coffee and then he had told her about this ecstatic job that he was doing where he got to make money off his dancing skills.

Mira remembered how they both wanted to be dancers as kids. But the moment Daniel caught her practicing one day, he tore her ballet shoes and shattered his own stereo.

"Never in this house" He said.

"Why are you trying so hard to be different?" He yelled at her that day. "Why are you trying to be the exact opposite of what i want for you?"

She cried like she never had that day. Because what is the use of having a parent that so badly wanted to change you? Deep down, she knew that they always wished she was someone else. That she was different.

She too had wished for better parents, and a better life. But wishes could only go so far. She knew had to leave if she truly wanted that

"Drag strip" Silva said, describing one of the top secret clubs that had just being launched downtown. "It's like this place, an hour a day where we actually get to be ourselves" He added. "You in?"

Now, it took Mira a few days to think it through. I mean, all her life she had been trying to replace that balance between who she had to be, and she really was. And this opportunity was sort of like that.

But stripping was something she never thought she'd have to do. However, once Silva told her how much he made in one night, she was quick to change her mind. And all she asked was- "And i get to actually dance?"

Afterall, it was what she actually wanted the most since she was a kid. And she needed to do it in place she wouldn't be judged.

She needed to do it in a place that actually accepted her, in a place with flashy lights and makeup and heels. And her friends, just like her.

"Welcome to drag, bitch" DaSilva had screamed upon her arrival when she finally made that decision. And looking back, it might have been the best decision she ever made. Because figuring out herself after that, became alot easier for her. Finding that balance was bliss.

That way, she only kept who she really was for the dusk of the night, and during the day, she put up the facade for society. Just like everyone else.

Now replaceing that balance meant she never had to mix those two lives. And she learned not to. It was why i said replaceing that balance was much easier.

Especially when there was no one pushing you to be different. To be perfect. Because there is no fun in perfect. Michael might have been, because he lived for people's validations but he was dead now.

Michael was long gone, and Mira however, made a life by embracing her imperfections. Looking back, it was what made her, her.

And she was happy.

Finally, she was actually happy. Because she had more than what she always wished for. Or close.

So it made it all worth it.

She might have had the toughest childhood, but at least it all led her to this. This tumultuous journey, which she called her life. Her very, imperfect life. To be continued...