DRAW THE LINE

CHAPTER ONE - ECHOES IN A LOOP Again? Why? How? Those were the only words I could manage as my iPhone 7 slipped from my hand. I grabbed my head with both hands and sank down beside the door, tears falling without control. I pressed my hands over my mouth, trying to muffle the sound of my pain. This was the fourth time. The fourth!. This country had a way of driving someone mad. How many times was I supposed to sit for the Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board exams? How many? How do I tell Sir I failed the exam again? What explanation do I give Mother, who is anxiously waiting to hear the news? She had already gathered my documents and handed them over to Mr. Yusuf, her close friend, so as far as everyone was concerned, everything was settled. So what now? What do I tell Joan, who secured her admission last week and was expecting us to go together to pay our fees? How do I break it to Kellan that despite scoring 210 in JAMB and 67 in my Post-UTME, I still did not get admitted, and that I will not be joining him at the university again this year? And worst of all, how do I survive another year in this house, buried under chores and errands, as though the only meaningful thing about my life is to wait on my parents like the king and queen that they are? I stared at the ceiling as a voice drifted through the air: "You have failed! You are a failure!" And for the first time, I believed it. My phone lit up and I pulled myself up from the floor, wiping my face with the back of my hand. The message on the screen said, “How far? E click?” The tears started falling again as I typed, “No, I got rejected again,” and added the smiling emoji with a tear. Almost immediately, the call came in. Caller: Joan. I hesitated before I picked up. “Are you okay, babes?” Her voice came through. I stayed quiet for a while, then tried to sound as calm as I could. “Jo, I’m fine. Just tired. Like, very tired. What do I tell Sir? And Mum? How do I explain why I failed? I’m really exhausted Jo” Silence. Just her breathing on the other end. Then she spoke: “I’m heading over.” “Okay,” I said. Then she hung up. I’ve known Joan longer than anyone. She was my safe space, my twin from another mother, as people fondly called us because we were inseparable. We even shared the same birthday. July 9 I was born at exactly 9pm, and Joan was born at 11pm. Our families had been closely knit since my mum saved hers but that’s a story for another day. The door creaked open slowly, and Mother walked in. She was wearing a white agbada lace, her blue gele neatly arranged in steps and well balanced on her head, her makeup complimenting her fair complexion. She was beautiful and young too young, maybe, for 48. Her beauty was the kind that took your breath away at a glance. And as far as body structure goes, she was well endowed. I found myself wondering why I hadn’t taken after her in complexion or body structure, and how strong Sir’s genes had to be for me to show up from heaven looking like God sent me to the wrong angel who accidentally gave me a chocolate bath and quickly sent me down to cover up the mistake. Mother walked over to the mirror, admiring herself. It was her culture to leave her room with its gigantic mirror and come to mine, only to bend down so the mirror could capture her full body. But the real reason was so I could compliment her dressing. If there was one thing constant about Mother, it was that she loved, craved, and lived for attention. “Oya, give them,” she said, turning sideways as she smoothed the front of her agbada. “Look at me well. Tell me the truth. Am I not beautiful?” I gave her a quick glance and replied nonchalantly, “Who can compare to such beauty?” I quickly dropped my eyes to the floor, picking at the hem of my dress. Mother turned to look at me and, after what felt like forever, finally noticed the tear stains on my face. “What happened?” she asked, concern creeping into her voice. “Wait, you didn't get in?” And just like that, the tears came rushing back. “No, ma. I didn't,” I replied, my voice trembling. She immediately moved towards me, sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me into a comforting embrace. “It's okay. Kpele, is that why you're like this? We can always try again, my dear. It's not the end,” she said, rubbing my back. “How long do I wait, Mummy? I'm never getting in. I'm really tired” I said, my eyes fixed on the floor. “Don't worry, you will. That yeye Yusuf will not go scot-free. Má ṣe sunkún mọ́. It's okay. If God says you will go, then trust that you will.” “Yeah right, thanks Mom,” I said, wiping my tears. “Have you called Joan?” she asked, adjusting her gele. “She's on her way.” “Okay, catch you larra, na.” She adjusted her dress one last time and cat-walked out closing the door, leaving behind the strong fragrance of her seventy-thousand-naira Arabian perfume. I remained seated for a while, staring at the door Mother had just walked through. I let out a tired sigh and reached for my phone. Three missed notifications, two WhatsApp messages and absolutely nothing worth looking at. I dropped it beside me and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. A few minutes later, I heard footsteps approaching, followed by a familiar knock. "Mitch open up” I dragged myself off the bed walked towards the door. The moment I opened it, Joan pulled me into a tight embrace. “I know you're not okay, Mitch. It's alright. I'm here, okay? It’s alright.” That was all it took. I clung to Joan, burying my face in her shoulder as the tears came pouring out all over again. After allowing me cry for a while, Joan gently pulled away and wiped the tears beneath my eyes with her thumbs. "Okay, enough crying. Before you drown both of us in these tears, let's sit down." I managed a weak laugh as she led me back to the bed. She dropped her handbag beside mine and settled comfortably, crossing her legs. "So what did your mom say?” She asked. "She told me to try again," I said as I wiped my nose. "But for how long, Jo? We were supposed to go to school together. We planned everything. So now I’m supposed to sit at home for a whole year? Doing what?" "Calm down, Mitch. Have you told Sir abou-" "Told him what? That I did not get the admission again? That the university rejected me without even giving me a reason?" I cut her off, blinking fast so the tears now gathering in my eyes would not fall. "Babes, calm down. We will sort it out. The university is just an hour away from here. What if you spend weekends at my place? While you are there, you can register for the weekend class at the lecture centre close by." I froze. My eyes narrowed. I raised my hand. "Wait. Stop." My voice dropped low. "What did you just say? Your place?" She looked at me, then reached for the pillow and hugged it between her knees as my eyes followed her movements. "Mum already made arrangements for us to get an apartment together. But now it looks like that won't happen." Every other word that came out of Joan’s mouth went in one ear and out the other. The only words that stayed in my head were "my place." "So what you are saying is, you are leaving me here?" I asked, staring straight into her eyes. "That is why I want you to come over on weekends. And I can tell my mum to help us talk to Sir about it." I was genuinely happy for Joan, but it hurt to think of how things could have been if I had gotten the admission. Still, maybe this was exactly what I needed. A way out of this house. "Okay, Jo. If he agrees to it." "He will. No fear na me talk am." She smiled softly and hugged me. I hugged her back. I closed my eyes for a second and just stayed there. For a moment, it felt like everything was still okay. Then my phone rang. I pulled back slowly and looked at the screen. My stomach dropped. Kellan. "Who is it?" Joan asked, peeping at my phone. I swallowed. "It's Kellan." "have you told him?" she asked. "No I haven’t." I say staring at the phone as it kept ringing. My hand was shaking. I didn't want to answer it, not now. "Mitch, answer it," Joan said again, her voice low. "You have to tell him." I took a deep breath and swiped to answer. "Hello?" My voice came out smaller than I wanted. "Mitch, what’s up?" Kellan's voice was sharp on the other side. "Please tell me you’ve checked and you got in." I glanced at Joan. She was watching me, her eyes wide. "I... I... I didn't get in, Kel." I said. My voice was shaking. Silence. A long one. Then he said, "Then we better stop." My heart dropped. "What? Kel, what do you mean?" "I mean what I said, Mitch," he said, his voice cold. "I can't keep doing this. I can't keep waiting for you to catch up with me." "Kel, please-" "No, listen to me," he cut me off. "You didn't get in. Joan got in. Everyone else got in but you. I’ve been here waiting for you but you’re just not doing enough Mitch." Tears started gathering in my eyes. "So that's it? Because I didn't get admission, you are just going to leave me?" "It's not just the admission, Mitch," he said, and for a second his voice went soft. "You know I love you. And maybe it’s a distraction for you I don’t want this to hinder you in any way.” I couldn't breathe. "So you are breaking up with me? Again?" A pause. Then he whispered, "Yeah. I think we better stop. For good this time." The call ended. I looked at Joan. My voice shaking. "He broke up with me again."