Chioma, my best friend lived on the other side of the town with her mum and elder brother who is away from home. I decided to make friends with her because of her free nature. However, my mother was not in support of our friendship. So each time Chioma came visiting, my mum would raise her nose in response to her greetings, showing how much she disliked her.
Mum is not the warm and loving mother type. One can regard her as a beautiful and stylish woman who drinks, has flair for playing bridge and reading the newspaper repeatedly. She is the sophisticated type and Chioma would always remind me about how sophisticated my mum was.
I also repay the act of visiting Chioma. The first time I did, I walked silently on my toes to the sitting room and made myself comfortable on the sofa. It was a really quiet place. She went in and showed up after a while with a big picture album. It was the family album. The loss of her father in the arms of unhealing gangrene due to diabetes made everything empty in the house.
On days when we can’t see, we spend time chatting on the phone and other days, we meet at the palm city, school dances or house parties.
Chioma being a talented and bright girl, was the saxophonist for the school band. She wrote poems and songs for me and we had a friendship code, the buck fifty which meant, I am your friend.
Not long after, I also met Dapo and we became good friends although he was into drugs and partying. Friday and Saturday nights are for partying in whoever’s house the parents were not performing well.
I was invited the day it was Chioma’s turn to host since her mum was not around. Not long after the party began, I saw Chioma with a bottle of liquor while the guys also drank and smoked, moving around the house as if it was theirs.
I tried all I could to stop Chioma from drinking but she wasn’t ready to listen. A few days after the party, I brought it up but I stopped when I saw that she wasn’t ready to tell me.
During dinner one Sunday evening at home, my mum looked across the table with a dejected face and asked if my dad had anything he wanted to discuss with us.
I wondered what could be the matter as both of them acted awkwardly.
Dad cleared his throat, tried to mutter some words and then he took a short pause. Again, he wiped the sweat that formed on his forehead with the back of his palm and then, he broke the information.
I couldn’t believe my ears after dad disclosed to my brother, Fred and me that he and mum had decided to separate. Fred stood from the table, pushed his plate aside and dashed out of the dining room, crying. Without looking back, I set out for Chioma’s house.
Upon seeing my face, Chioma knew a lot was wrong. She took me in, gave me a reassuring hug and patted my back like a baby. I knew I could count on her. She knows exactly what I need every time and she also had her ways of getting me to drop my shield.
Time went by and my parents’ separation wasn’t heard of again. I wondered what was going on between the two. So on a Sunday afternoon after church, my dad came into my room and sat next to me on the bed then he complained about how I have been by myself since he discussed the separation issue with us. This made hot tears stream down my eyes. It surprised me to have someone notice me, especially someone as important as my dad. That was when I asked him about what was going on between him and mum. It was a long father-daughter discussion that day.
One Friday evening, I went to see Chioma play at the church hall since I was in my down moment. Watching her sing and play the Konga lightened me up. She’s just too good in every she does. In short, Chioma is the type one can call whatever she finds doing, she does it well. And then she looked in my direction from the stage and made the sign of our friendship code. A wide smile filled my mouth again.
Our friendship was going well not until the day we decided to take a walk to the county fair. It was planned that Chioma would meet me at my house. So that morning, I went out with Dapo and after that, we walked down the river to make out instead of heading home. Chioma on the other hand got to my house as planned. It was 4 pm when I got home. On sighting me from a distance, she left in annoyance. I tried to reach her but she wasn’t answering my calls. The next morning, she answered the call and told me to stop calling her my friend and that the friendship between us stopped the moment I refused to respect her. I was short of words when she said that.
I told Dapo about what was going on and he put a call through. Luckily, he apologized on my behalf and Chioma accepted.
We were back together as friends again and when I was chanced to discuss with her, I asked about how she was coping with her diabetes and she told me that she has been on antidepressants for two years.
I couldn’t understand the correlation between antidepressants and diabetes. So I inquired about why she refused to tell me since we became friends. She had her way and that went.
I wondered how she had coped since these years. The combination of antidepressants and alcohol was a total no-no. We had a great and lengthy discussion that day however, we couldn’t talk a few days later for some unknown reasons.
So on Saturday, a call came in from Chioma’s mum. I wondered why Chioma would call me with her mum’s phone.
I heard a voice from the other end asking if anyone was at home with me and I replied with a yes. Then Chioma’s mum told me that Chioma was gone.
I couldn’t stand straight because my legs refused to bear the weight of my upper body at that moment. The phone also fell off my hand while I fell on the floor, wailing.
I refused to speak to anyone about how I felt.
This is the story of my best friend, Chioma.
Each night after her demise, I reflect on why she took her life that way. After the blame game on myself for many nights, thinking that I was the cause of her death because I wasn’t there for her, I heard from her mum that her dad also suffered from depression.
With that, the guilt weight on me was reduced however the space she left behind could not be replaced.