It was raining. Jonathan knew he had to get his school bag
out of the rain. He didn’t care so much about his body. The documents in the
school bag were about all that gave him an existence in Nigeria. All the papers
that if a rat got to, you’d know the rat had to have been sent by some diabolic
persona. He looked around for the nearest shelter. It was the materials’
laboratory, more commonly used by the civil engineers. It really wasn’t much of
a laboratory by world standards, but for Federal education… Hmph! It looked
open.
He rushed in and turned to close the gate-door he’d entered
through. The rain intensified just as he made it through, as if to warn him not
to take things for granted. With his back to the room, he wiped his forehead of
rain droplets. He wondered how long he was going to be trapped in here. Sigh.
He turned to face the room. There, staring at him all the while, headphones in
her ear, was Rose. She wore a faint smile.
“Hi” He said, a little embarrassed. “I didn’t hear you”
She smiled. “Hi.”
He looked around. It was just them in the small room called
a laboratory. Maybe it was more of a laboratory because it had awkward
uncomfortable concrete slabs and no chairs. He located a small stool in the
corner. He grabbed it and sat a comfortable distance from her.
“What are you doing here?” he asked politely.
“It’s raining.” She looked outside as if to show him what he
didn’t know. He felt dumb immediately. Of course. It was raining. He smiled.
She chuckled, her eyes widening in the dull light. He laughed.
“Yea. I should have figured.” He flushed.
“Nah. No biggie”
And somehow they got into a conversation. They had been
colleagues for a full year now, though they had not really had much of long
chats. This was 200 level. They were going to have a lot of chats this year!
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After this, there would be no going back. If he could tell
her this, she would have a part of him in her hands, he would be vulnerable.
And if she used this to judge him, if she couldn’t handle this, then their
friendship might as well be over. He decided to take the risk.
His holiday had not been totally fantastic anyway. His Dad
had been very broke just before school resumed. It was one thing to accept to
yourself that you had no money. It was a different thing to face the world with
this state of self awareness. As he prepared to go back to school, his mum had
packed a lot of foodstuff in a bag for him. That was the contribution she could
give. His dad was to drive down to the village for an important meeting. It was
best that he followed his Dad down to the village and then from there take
short transport to school which was 2 states and about 150km away. He probably
had not realized the severity of the cash shortage until he found himself in
school with N1000, 2 heavy bags and no accommodation but his Aunt’s house in
the city, demanding N200 daily transport to shuttle to and from school. To top
that, he had sustained a flesh bruise on his thighs the morning he left Lagos,
when he fell down the stairs trying to carry his bags down to the car. By some
stroke of grace, he had liaised with an old secondary school mate with whom he
could stay with on the school campus and thus continue going for lectures, all
before the N1000 finished. It was a miracle indeed. His new roommate had
unknowingly probably saved his life. Being in such a broke state had zapped a
lot of confidence from him, he almost couldn’t defend his surname anymore. He
had lost track of all the things he stood for, his beliefs, his principles. It
was a tough period. Within 2 weeks of resumption though, his Dad sent him some
money…survival money however, none for the rent nor complicated settlements.
Just survival money.
And that was his story. From the deep. He had just told her.
She was dead quiet. She was imagining what he had been through. She had seen
him in class all the while this was going on. But she couldn't have guessed he
was going through such. He always had a calm air around him. Like he had life
under control. She developed a deep respect for him. He had always been very
likable. She smiled, then blushed at the thought of how embarrassed she would
have been if he could see that she had smiled. But the night and the distance
between them made that physically impossible...it wasn't a video call anyway.
She was getting fond of him. And she feared that soon, she would have to trust
him with a few of her own secrets....
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He wanted to call. He wanted to know how she was coping with
all this. He wanted even more; to be there physically to assure her that
everything would be great, that all would go well. He wanted to hold her
shoulders, to squeeze her palms in his. He knew she would be anticipating his
call. She would be needing his call. But he also knew something. Recently, he
had been thinking of her more than he could explain logically. He saw her bright
eyes when people around him smiled. He heard her name when the birds whistled
past or when he passed by a colorful flower. Her laughter replayed in his head
every time he thought of something mildly funny and he'd wonder if she'd find
it funny too. He smelt her on his way to school, despite the dust and hot
winds. He felt her presence in many songs on his playlist...like she was the
one the musicians sang about. And he touched her in his dreams, where, somehow,
they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. Was he obsessed?
It was this question he thought of for so long…minutes, and
then hours.
And then she called him instead. He was late. He had missed
it.
“Jonathan.” It was a sigh. “How are you?” her feigned
composure wasn’t holding up well.
He felt very guilty. “Hey. Rose! How are you? How did it go?
Are you okay? Is he okay? Did all go well?” He was rushing the questions, as if
asking faster was a substitute for asking earlier.
She answered him perfunctorily. Out of politeness. All was well.
Her brother was just fine now. The doctor had assured them.
"Ah! Praise God!" He felt very relieved, thankful,
for her sake. He knew how much the operation and her brother's safety meant to
her...and he had not been there to share her anxiety. He tried to make a weak
excuse for not calling earlier. It sounded even weaker... In trying to control
what he felt was an obsession, he had failed as a friend.
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She wasn’t picking his calls. It was driving him crazy. 2
days in a row. She had not come to
school either. He was worried about her and afraid for himself. Was she okay?
It was quite odd. Normally she would have called to say hi...or at least
answered her calls. What if she hadn't forgiven him for not calling on
Saturday? What if she had concluded to herself that he was not going to be
there for her? But that would be unfair. She couldn't reach such conclusions on
her own without consulting him. They were in this together! Weren't they? Or
were they? What was "this" anyway? Technically, they were 'just'
friends. Although they were very fond of each other... Or at least he knew she
meant the world to him. But what did he mean to her? He didn't even know.
Jonathan asked himself so many questions. He would go mad at this rate, he
warned himself.
By the third day he was contemplating finding her house in
town or hiring a private detective to do that. He had dropped an increasing
number of missed calls and un-replied texts over the past few days. Obinna and Femi
held him back though.
"You plan to roam the whole Estate? Or knocking on
every door? You'll surely get arrested bro." Femi said.
"And if you find her house? You think this is some
movie where you waltz in and untie her or something?" Obinna scoffed.
"Wake up and smell the coffee?" Obinna was the most cynical realist
that ever walked the earth. He would physically restrain Jonathan if he had to.
"I'm sure you are even exaggerating this. Maybe you are
taking this too personal. She's probably not answering anybody's call. She
could have lost her phone...or left it somewhere." Obinna supported his
point with some background name-calling.
"He's right you know" Femi added. "You may be
making this personal when it isn't."
Jo was still worried. He didn't believe it wasn't personal.
His conscience bore heavy the guilt of not calling her first on Saturday. Or
the guilt of something else he didn't know he did. He just wanted to apologize,
to ask for a chance to fix this. He had to tell her…he would move mountains for
her. She had to know. He had to tell her. She shouldn’t judge him without
telling him. She had to give him a chance to prove to her what she meant to
him. She had too. This was too early in the day for such a quarrel.
His shoulders sagged.
Then he asked to use Femi's phone. He dialed. It rang as
usual.
She picked up the phone!
