Everyone’s inside, including the gateman. Who could be entering by this time of the night?
I enter inside and close the door. Through the peephole, I spy. For what seems like forever, the gate is still being opened.
And then… my father enters.
What! I thought he was sleeping inside with mom.
I was clearly wrong.
I wait for him to enter, and when I turn on the lights, which is made difficult by the darkness.
“Oh my God,” he exclaims, and then he laughs when he sees it’s me. “You startled me.”
I don’t laugh. I’m pissed. “Where are you coming from?”
“Is this an interrogation?” he jokes.
“Yes.”
“Work,” he answers.
That’s a lousy lie. He went to see his mistress. Those were words I never thought I’d think. “At this time?”
“Yes, and I’m very tired. So if you’ll excuse me, I need to sleep.” He goes upstairs.
I want to scream LIAR at him, but I don’t. I made a promise. I won’t be the one whose words ruin my home. That is if I can still call this a home.
I retire to my bed and sleep, not continuing with my studies.
The next morning at school, I corner Max just as he enters the class. His dad dropped him off that morning, so I couldn’t catch him in the bus.
“Rich has called you, hasn’t he? And don’t bother lying to me. I know he has.”
“How’d you know?”
I didn’t. “He called me too.”
“Oh.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“Why didn’t you?”
Because he told me not to. He’s my friend. I might not be able to help him with his sales, but I can respect his wishes even if they’re stupid. “Are you going to help him?”
“Hell no. He made his choice to ruin his life. I’m not letting him ruin mine too. If you’re smart, you won’t either. But being smart isn’t really your strong suit is it?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Max doesn’t answer. He leaves.
I knew he always thought little of me and Rich because we aren’t as smart as him, but I didn’t think he’d become such a dick about it. I thought he was my friend.
During assembly, the fundraising party is announced. And I must say it’s really impromptu. It is usually announced at least one month before the day, but this time it’s in less than two weeks; the Friday of next week.
After the assembly, Becca walks up to me. “Hello dear.”
I’m surprised. “Hi.”
“I’m sure you heard the fundraising party announcement, right?”
“Yeah, and?”
“Uh, nothing. It’s just; you know I’m a sucker for those kinds of parties.”
She’s a sucker for all kinds of parties. “Your point?” I ask, impatient to get this over with.
“How’d you feel about going to the fundraising party with me? I know we’re broken up, but we could go as friends, you know. I really can’t see myself going with somebody else.”
I can’t believe she’s asking this. I already know what my answer will be. I can’t handle an entire night as her date, no. She’d drive me completely insane. I try not to be rude. “Then don’t go at all.” She seems genuinely surprised. “Look, I won’t feel comfortable going with you, or anyone for that matter. My parents will be there.”
“Oh. Yeah, I totally understand you. It was worth a shot though.”
She leaves before I think of anything calming to say.
I go home with the bus that day and Ebuka asks me why I’ve missed it a couple of days. I just answer by telling him that sometimes my dad decides he’ll pick me up from school.
I dream that night that Rich is arrested by the police because without me he couldn’t get away from them.
I know it’s just my subconscious using dreams to portray my feeling of guilt for not helping Rich, but I can’t help but be worried.
I want to tell my mom, but that would have to involve me telling her about Rich and his discrepancies. And she’ll just end up telling his parents and she’ll make sure I never set my eyes on him anymore.
I find it hard to sleep that night, so I decide to read. I can’t do that either. I just keep thinking about Rich and how while he’s doing a noble thing standing by his brother, he’s going about it all wrong. I wish I could convince him. My mind then switches from Rich to Max and how he’s been a shitty friend of late, and then there’s his insult this afternoon.
Was he never my friend? I’d have to talk to him. I can’t just jump to conclusions.
I sleep off on my books. When my mom wakes me, she’s smiling and I’m hurting. The position I slept in on the table makes my back and neck feel like I was tortured throughout the night.
I’m sure if my mom didn’t see me sleeping on my table, she’d have complained that I was attacked by witches at night because of my deficient prayer life. But I’m glad my mom is smiling. She’s happy that I’m finally taking books seriously.
We pray as a family that morning and for the first time in a while, I ignore my father’s indiscretions and I actually pray to my God. It feels good, I have to admit.