* * *
At school, I thought endlessly about Okem, walking around with the aftermath of many sleepless nights and a heavy heart. I saw him everywhere I looked and I refused to eat.
The situation went from bad to worse on my way to a lecture on a very hot afternoon. A faint buzzing in my ears stopped me in my tracks, and I almost fainted on the stairs as a throng of students sped by to get to class on time. Luckily, a good samaritan stopped and helped me regain my balance before taking me to the clinic. The next day, my grandmother rode for six hours from Ntebe to Ajidi to speak to me after dissuading my mother from abandoning an important assignment to be by my side.
Her words got through to me. After that day, I vowed to turn things around, but it wasn’t easy. I sought every possible way to render Okem insignificant in my life. A shift occurred in my consciousness. My grief evolved. From crying and mourning, I became blinded by hatred. I hated Okem so much that whenever I thought about him, I imagined an egocentric maniac. It made me feel better, but only briefly. Over time, even though I still thought about him every day, I started to feel like my old self again.
From hatred, I developed a genuine concern for him. I believed it was stupid of me to have ignored and avoided him after Albert and I became close. It was even more stupid of me to say those things about him. But I didn’t just blame myself. I blamed Okem too. If only he had been patient enough to hear my true feelings. If only he had trusted enough in the love we had for each other. If only he had a stronger backbone. So many ifs. We were both responsible.
Chapter Ten
“I KNOW WHY Ona seemed so out of sorts a while ago,” Albert had said to my grandmother during a visit a year after Okem’s disappearance.
“Why?” she asked, panic-stricken that my indecision had become public knowledge and that my chances of marrying the most eligible bachelor in Ide and environs had been completely dashed.
“Depression,” he’d answered. “What else? It happens to the best of us.”
“Oh,” my grandmother said with relief.
I could see the smile spreading over her entire face as she leaned into the chair.
Hilarious. It was depression, alright. Albert, I believed, knew the cause of my problem and was only pretending in hopes that someday I would get over whatever it was and realize I was in love with him. It must have been clear to him as it was to everyone else that my unhappiness started right after Okem unexpectedly disappeared, but he still insisted on marrying me under those circumstances. I had spared him the details of my troubles in fear that I would hurt him and possibly lose him. And I was just too ashamed to discuss the topic with him. Too ashamed to reveal to him that I was mourning the rejection from the person he once referred to as “servant boy.”
My caution with Albert wasn’t solely to preserve my chance of marrying the most eligible bachelor. That was my grandmother’s goal. What no one else knew was that I had started developing some affection for him over the past few months. Albert had slowly found his way through the crevices Okem left in my heart and filled the spaces with his strength and assurance. He showed me what it was like to be loved despite my unwillingness to reciprocate such love. With time I started to believe I was capable of loving him as much as he loved me. It could end up being that Albert was meant for me. My grandfather hadn’t told me which choice was right. He had left the task of choosing to me. “Choosing for you would tip the balance in the universe,” he had said. The school of life, he called it. I had been provided the lesson. Now it was up to me to make my own choices and learn from any mistakes along the way.
* * *
Despite my progress and Albert’s efforts to keep me happy, I still slipped in and out of a low mood occasionally. One afternoon, my heart was heavy, and my hand was clenched around the lower part of my stomach as I looked out of the window while droplets of rain fell from the sky. The ravine from my window looked so lush and beautiful; it seemed to me Okem might be hiding there for a moment. I thought I’d seen something, so I moved closer to get a better look.
“Are you still thinking about that boy?” Ifedi asked, startling me.
I hadn’t heard her enter the room.
“No,” I said, shaking my head.
Her question had worsened my emotional state and caused my eyes to water profusely. I thought I had shed every single tear in me. In the past few months, they had rolled down my cheeks like rainwater rolling down corrugated iron sheets and splattered on the ground all around me. I remained crouched on the chair, looking out the window. Ifedi came closer and sat right beside me. I could see the pain in her expression as she gently wiped my cheeks. She didn’t say another word, letting us sit in silence, which I was grateful for.
“How could Okem stay away for so long?” I finally said, looking at her with forlorn eyes.
Ifedi looked at me blankly while she waited for me to calm down. Too ashamed to look in her direction, I placed my head between my knees, but she reached for my chin and raised it to glare at me.
“You need to learn to let go,” she finally said after a few seconds had passed.
I shut my swollen eyes to get rid of the buildup of tears.
“That’s what
