A Loner's Journey Through Lemonade Making

Chapter 9| Tangy And Toxic

The class was in such an untidy state that if the principal happened to pass by at that moment, we would be punished for being untidy and careless. But the unorganized state of the class was justified, as it was finally the day we moved to our separate classes. We were only waiting for the teacher who would read the names of students going to each class to us and during that time, I kept praying Muna was in my class. She was the only person I was comfortable having a conversation with in that whole set. Yes, I knew I had to work on my social life. It was currently a pathetic mess.

I zoned out for a while, thinking about what had happened last night, long after aunty Oma's friend left.

* * *
The long hand of the clock remained on ten while the short hand moved to six. It was ten thirty and Uncle Blessing was yet to return from work. It wasn't the first time this was happening. Lagos traffic, Lagos traffic, that was always the excuse he gave if it wasn't "there was too much work at the office" or "I had a meeting". But today, he hadn't even called aunty Oma to tell her why he hadn't returned.
She was pacing back and forth in the living room, phone in hand, dialing his number repeatedly. I was sure she had called him more than fifty times. And every time she did, it went into voicemail, the recording saying 'the customer you're calling is not answering. Please try again later or leave a voicemail'. She tried one more time and it went into voice mail yet again.

I wasn't in the living room with her. I sat at the door of my room, watching her sigh and walk around the room, calling him repeatedly. She soon broke down and started crying. Then she stopped crying for a moment and just when I was about to sigh in relief, she grabbed all the throw pillows in the living room and tore them. She used one of the flower cases to smash the TV and the centre table. She picked up a framed picture of she and Uncle Blessing during their traditional wedding and smashed it on the floor. I gasped in shock. Then she held her head and looked around. I noticed a little blood on one of her wrists but I couldn't really do anything. She had sent me to bed over an hour ago but I couldn't sleep because I was worried. And of course, her constant crying and destroying of objects wouldn't let me sleep peacefully.

I decided to go to the living room and tell her all I knew. I wanted to tell her what I had seen in Uncle Blessing's wardrobe the other day, to tell her that he was probably with her --the other woman. But would she listen to me? It would only add fuel to the fire. It would be taking the issue out of the frying pan and into the fire. So I decided against it. Besides, if I told her, what would I gain? She would probably reign insults on me and tell me I was lying, that I was trying to destroy her marriage. So I decided not to.
Shutting the door was difficult. As in, it was difficult for me to shut the door quietly without her knowing and it was also difficult knowing I had decided not to tell her about it. I knew it would bring pain to her heart knowing what her husband was up to and I knew it would also bring some kind of relief knowing he was safe.

I shook the thoughts out of my head and crawled back to my mat. The best I could do was say a prayer for them before I drifted off to sleep.

* * *
The arrival of Mrs Iroha, a dark skinned woman who was probably in her mid forties and the head of the English department broke my train of thoughts.

"....so, do you think Leilah and Joju will be in the same class?" Muna asked me, her eyes focused on the people we were talking about.

I looked at them too. They were chatting and laughing like they were the only ones there. I wondered what they spoke about that was so funny. Then I thought about her question. "I can't say. But you know RPSS now, anything and everything can change when you grease their palms."

"It's true sha. But it's the sad truth." she shook her head and looked away.

"Good morning." Mrs Iroha greeted with her voice which was just as small as she was.