The night Funmi died, she told me she wanted to but I hadn’t taken her seriously. I brushed her off with a warm, reassuring smile.
“I will support you through this. I’m so sorry you had to experience this.” I should have realised that her smile was a mask of courtesy, hiding her true emotions. I should have realised that the rehearsed smile was her silent way of requesting for help. I had ignored what happened because I was not sure she wanted to discuss it with anybody.
“Goodnight Funmi,” I whispered, giving her a kiss on her cheek. How naive of me to think that made any difference to the girl who just said she wanted to die. It is crazy to realise that you never know when it is going to be your last time with somebody.
“Goodnight.” Her almost inaudible voice made me want to stay with her for longer but she had insisted she wanted to be left alone.
Looking back, I should have taken a firmer stand and stayed with her regardless of what she said and if she refused my support, I should have forced myself to stay with her. It’s too late for what ifs now. I had let her die by not taking her statement seriously. At the moment I had thought the wound was a little too fresh. I had assumed she said that because she was hurting badly. I didn’t think she would have actually gone through with it. I tried to clear my itchy throat quietly but failed.
“But you should know this was not your fault in anyway.” The short woman who looked at me from the rim of her red glasses said softly as she scribbled in her brown leather notes.
Coming into this small creamcoloured office that had just two chairs— a huge couch-like one and a sofa directly across it had become my weekly routine. I was told that talking could help relieve me of my guilt but I wondered if this woman who only listened to me rant could actually help me. I had gotten used to her just listening so I just talked. The thought that plagued my thoughts daily was the question of if I deserved to live guilt free.
“Can you believe the asshole who did this to her is living freely with no remorse? How could someone be so cruel?” I was already screaming. From across me I could see that she flinched for a second but she quickly regained her composure as she scribbled in her notes again. I have tried to understand what was always so fascinating about my rants that made her pay close attention to me and write so much. I did not care to ask. I had bigger demons running in my head.
“You might want to remain calm.” Her velvety voice did nothing to soothe the anger and frustration that I was experiencing.
“He should be the one locked up in a room forced to relive that night over and over again, not me.” The sides of her lips curled. The motion caused her cheeks to push up the glasses that rested lazily on her face.
“You are not being forced. It is of your free will that you do anything. You could decide not to talk to me but you have chosen to.”
I leaned back on the sofa. Not wanting to talk anymore, I laid my full length on the sofa as I closed my eyes. As usual, Funmi’s throaty laugh would take over my mind. Slowly, the salty drops from my eyes would fall sideways into my ear because of my position. I would cry softly for a few minutes before sitting up. I would make no attempt to clean my face because it was my own way of reminding myself that I had no right to be happy while Funmi remained dead. Or do I?
