Broken Dreams and Lost Friends.

[Esther Godwin Ogechi]

My eyes are mucky; I think I'm going blind. These days, the days seem extremely long; the sun shines brighter than usual and the nights are abnormally brighter – maybe they're exerting themselves to lighten my soul. The urge to do anything is long gone, and so is my dream for the future. My mum is getting unbearably loud, and my siblings look at me with, …. Pity. I try to cry, but my tear gland refuses to produce anything. My dreams are haunted by shadows and the darkness threatens to take over. My friends no longer call. Do I even have a friend? Oh, yes, I did, Damien. I miss him so much, but the feeling seems so wrong. He hurt me, I knew it, but I can't let go. Why am I the one who's hurting? We were so young and weird to everyone, and we liked it that way. We fought our battles – against everyone and everything – together. We laughed and cried together. I should have known better than to date my best friend. Oh God, Malinda, why can't you shake this feeling? You can't blame them, you brought this upon yourself. I'll keep the memories we both shared with me and I wish you, Damien, all the love and happiness in life and may your ways always be filled with light. Oh my heart, it hurts so bad.

I must have cried louder than usual that night because Mum and my youngest sister, Ariel, barged into my room. My mum looked like she had just seen a ghost – I think I was the ghost – and Ariel was in tears. Ariel ran up to me on my bed, threw her arms around my neck – all the tears and slime on my face stained her dress – and cried loudly.
“I wish he dies; I wish his parents hate him; I wish his grades hit rock bottom.”
“No! No, Ariel, you never wish other people bad. You don't know how life is for them too.” My mum reprimanded Ariel.
“But he hurt Sister.” She cried, hugging me tighter.
“I know love, but it's up to Mandy to decide if it should shape her, and I can see she's going so well with it. It's been six months already Malinda, you need help! It breaks my heart to see you this way. You think we can't hear you, but we can. Every time I hear you cry over and over again, it makes me so mad. I love you so much, Malinda; I don't want you to continue on this path. What do you think you're teaching your younger ones with this attitude? Jose is always home now. I'm not saying that that's a bad thing, but for a boy who I have to drag home from his friends' place, that's an alarming thing; Paris and Caris both quit The Gossip Press, and here is Ariel, swearing at someone.” Mum was screaming now, and the tears were running freely.
“You're crawling into your shell, and you're taking us all with you. I guess you don't know all this because you can't see beyond your nose. All you do now is sit in your room all day, wallowing in self-pity.”
“Mum! Calm down. Talk to her, don't scream, please!” Ariel left me to hug Mum.
“I'm very sorry, my dear.” Mum held us both, and we all cried together.

It was two days after the confrontation with Mum. I was sitting in my room, feeling despondent, when I heard a light knock at my door. A bald head poked out through the slight opening of my door.
“Hey, Mugpie!” It was my dad's younger brother, Uncle Lawrence. He has been in the army somewhere deep in the jungles of Zimbabwe for two years. I didn't know he was back in Nigeria – he usually calls us to pick him up so that he can rub it up that he is cooler than, I don't know, maybe Paris, Jose, or my dad.
“How's my favorite person holding up? Hitting 'em hard aren't ya?” He shouted in his normal booming voice, which I found soothing as a child. He was all smiles, arms spread out, ready to receive his hug.
“Hi, Uncle Lawrence. Long time no see. I've missed you.” I said, sitting on my bed and forcing a smile but making no effort to give him his hug.
“Hey… You're sick?” He asked in a very low voice. With one long stride, he reached my bed, worry was plastered all over his face.
“You're not burning up, so what's the problem?” He touched my forehead with the back of his hand and drew me closer to himself.
“Damian left.” My mum's voice sounded from the door. She stood there with both arms crossed across her chest.
“What do you mean Damien left?” My uncle asked, looking from Mum to me.
“He and Mandy decided to take their relationship to the next level. Eight months down that lane, Nicolas visited with Cecile.”
“You mean Nicolas came to Nigeria last year?” My uncle interrupted my mum, looking alarmed.
“Yes, he did.” Mum replied, eyeing Uncle Lawrence up and down.
“But that's not the case, he came with Cecile and Damian decided that the French Ezeani was better than the one he'd known since his childhood,” Mum stated matter of fact.
“So, lemme get this straight. You mean, your husband, sorry, ex-husband came to visit with his daughter with his French wife, and she ended up snatching Damian from Mandy?”
“Ditto!” Mum snapped her fingers in affirmation.
“Damn Mandy. And you let her get away with it? Have you learned nothing from this old guy?” Uncle Lawrence asked teasingly.
I felt an anxiety attack building up like I was ochlophobic. I ran to my bathroom, locked the door, and cried my eyes out. I felt useless. How was Cecile any better than me? Sure, she's half Caucasian with pale skin and rosy cheeks and lips, a full chest and a round ass, blond dyed, hot pressed straight hair, and piercing blue eyes. Oh my God, she's beautiful. Who am I deceiving? They deserve each other. But why Cecile, Damien? Why my half-sister?

I cried so hard that day that my body ached. I think Mum must have convinced Uncle Lawrence to let me cry it out. I don't know how long I locked myself up in my bathroom, but when I came out much later, I found Caris on my bed snuggled up with my pillow. A tray of food was sitting on my desk. The sight of food made me hungry. I tiptoed to the desk and uncovered the plate. It was my favorite: pounded yam and bitter leaf soup with plenty of orishirishi. I almost twirled at the sight of the food before me, but then I remembered, this was also my uncle's favorite. Mtcheeeeeeew! I'm gonna enjoy this while it lasts. When last did I eat real Nigerian food? Mum must have forgotten that her kids are full-blooded Nigerians. I'm gonna stuff my face with food, real food, as much as I can while Uncle Lawrence is still here. To the god of food… No, to the goddess of food, I pledge to eat all the delicacies I missed while my estranged boyfriend was here. I eyed the cutlery my mum or maybe Caris arranged in a napkin on my tray, hissed at it and threw them off the tray, went back to my bathroom and washed my hands.
“I'm gonna eat this the real way.” I said to myself. I sat in my seat, but something felt off.
“Damned confinement of chair,” I murmured under my breath as I moved my tray to the floor, to the other side of the room, close to the door so that I could rest my back on the wall. With both legs spread out and my tray in between my legs, I rained justice on the mountain of fufu in front of me. This is the life, to hell with romance and depression. I thought after I was done committing the life sentence-worthy crime against my stomach. I was too full to get up to wash my hands.
“Hey, Caris!” I called. No reply.
“Are you dead? Get your ass off that bed and get me water to wash my hands.” Still no reply. I scanned around me for something to wake her up with. My eyes landed on her flip-flops beside the door. I stretched and reached for them. I threw the first one at her but missed. I aimed again, this time with more focus, and released the weapon. It landed squarely on her head. Caris screamed and fell off the bed.
“What you do that for?” She complained, rubbing her hand on which she fell.
“I call, you answer. You got that!” She nodded.
“Now go get me water to wash my hands,” I commanded, back to my old self.
“Sister Malinda, is that you?” Caris asked, approaching me with measured steps.
“No, it's your mother. Continue asking stupid questions until I get you there!” I growled at her. She immediately scrambled out of the room, screaming something I couldn't make out on her way down the stairs.


To be continued...

[Mira Cle]

"The sight of food made me hungry. I tiptoed to the desk and uncovered the plate. It was my favorite: pounded yam and bitter leaf soup with plenty of orishirishi. I almost twirled at the sight of the food before me, but then I remembered, this was also my uncle's favorite. Mtcheeeeeeew! I'm gonna enjoy this while it lasts. When last did I eat real Nigerian food? Mum must have forgotten that her kids are full-blooded Nigerians. I'm gonna stuff my face with food, real food, as much as I can while Uncle Lawrence is still here. To the god of food… No, to the goddess of food, I pledge to eat all the delicacies I missed while my estranged boyfriend was here. I eyed the cutlery my mum or maybe Caris arranged in a napkin on my tray, hissed at it and threw them off the tray, went back to my bathroom and washed my hands.
“I'm gonna eat this the real way.” I said to myself. I sat in my seat, but something felt off.
“Damned confinement of chair,” I murmured under my breath as I moved my tray to the floor, to the other side of the room, close to the door so that I could rest my back on the wall. With both legs spread out and my tray in between my legs, I rained justice on the mountain of fufu in front of me."

This got me laughing really hard. Thanks, you made my day. I hope to see this completed.

[Esther Godwin Ogechi]

"The sight of food made me hungry. I tiptoed to the desk and uncovered the plate. It was my favorite: pounded yam and bitter leaf soup with plenty of orishirishi. I almost twirled at the sight of the food before me, but then I remembered, this was also my uncle's favorite. Mtcheeeeeeew! I'm gonna enjoy this while it lasts. When last did I eat real Nigerian food? Mum must have forgotten that her kids are full-blooded Nigerians. I'm gonna stuff my face with food, real food, as much as I can while Uncle Lawrence is still here. To the god of food… No, to the goddess of food, I pledge to eat all the delicacies I missed while my estranged boyfriend was here. I eyed the cutlery my mum or maybe Caris arranged in a napkin on my tray, hissed at it and threw them off the tray, went back to my bathroom and washed my hands.
“I'm gonna eat this the real way.” I said to myself. I sat in my seat, but something felt off.
“Damned confinement of chair,” I murmured under my breath as I moved my tray to the floor, to the other side of the room, close to the door so that I could rest my back on the wall. With both legs spread out and my tray in between my legs, I rained justice on the mountain of fufu in front of me."

This got me laughing really hard. Thanks, you made my day. I hope to see this completed.

I'm glad you liked it. Thanks for stopping by.