“My life is higgledy-piggledy,” Monica sighed. “I hate it so much!” she yelled. It was a painful yell, her voice echoed throughout the empty class block, and some flamingos gathering nearby fluttered and flew away. She sat on a desk staring outside the window, her eyes fixated as if in a trance with a frown creasing her face. The smell of dust and paint hung in the air; the window frames and aluminum doors had just been repainted the day before, and a gust of cold wind kept blowing in, bringing in dust and whirling up pieces of paper lying on the floor. Monica sneezed, “Life to me,” she said and pulled up her sweater closer to her body. It was the harmattan season, any careless exposure to the dry wind could cause one's throat to itch all night, Monica thought. She wasn't ready to risk a flu.
In front of the class was a whiteboard with the words “suck it in or choke!” scribbled boldly on it. Whoever wrote that must have had her in mind, Monica thought. She needed to suck in everything that was happening to her, or she was going to start choking. The walls of the class were painted gray, which made her uncomfortable because of her present situation. She shifted on her seat and shuffled her feet noisily under the table.
Yesterday night, Her father had told her his company was downsizing, they were both afraid he might lose his job as a clerk. They could barely afford three square meals a day as it was, not to speak of her tuition fees and books. While she was still licking her wounds, she was summoned to the Dean's office this morning and told she might have to withdraw from the department because her grades were too poor to continue with her mates. Now she was waiting like a man being led to the gallows for her last result to be released later that afternoon. It would determine whether she would be retained by the department or not. Her father would be so disappointed.
She reached up and brushed away the trickle of tears that rolled down her cheeks, while her teeth sunk into her lower lip.
“Monica,” someone called.
She turned abruptly, it was Nana, one of her classmates. She quickly wiped her face with her clothes. Nana and her weren't so close, but Nana had stuck to her since the beginning of the semester and had shown potential to be a good friend. The red-haired girl jumped on the wooden desk and sat on it, putting her legs on the bench. Monica stared at her, a perplexed look on her face. There was a wide smile on Nana's face. She was albino, partly Ghanaian. Monica thought she was the most beautiful of God's creation she had ever seen, with such fair skin. And she was suddenly happy to be her friend.
“What is it, Nana?” Monica asked.
“Have you heard?” Nana blurted.
“Heard what?”
“There's going to be a get-together party for our class at the end of the semester.” Nana was all giddy.
Monica shook her head and sighed, “good for you,” she responded.
“Why? You're going to be there.”
“I wish but I __”
“Monica!” Someone else yelled from the door. Both girls looked up. It was Bisi, and she wasn't alone; her gang of three notorious friends trailed behind her: Rose, Sharon, and Marilyn. Both girls stared at them while they walked over to where they were.
“I saw you yesterday at the cafeteria,” Bisi began. “Shinning your thirty-two and being all flirty around Matthew, I came to warn you. Stay one million meters away from him!” she yelled. Bisi was a Tiv girl, one could easily recognize that from the tribal marks on her face. She was plump and beautiful, but her notoriousity preceded her beauty.
The furrowed lines on Monica's forehead deepened, and she stood up. Nana got down from the table and stood between Monica and the four girls. “I don't understand,” she said glaring at them. “Which Matthew?” She asked.
The four girls looked at one another. “Well, Monica knows who we are talking about!” Rose retorted. “Tell her to stay away from another woman's man!”
“Another woman's man?” It was Monica who spoke; a dry, cynical laugh escaped her throat. She turned to Nana, who was as puzzled as she was, “another woman's man,” she re-echoed, and they both laughed.
“I’m warning you,” Bisi said. “Stay away from Matthew or else _”
“Or else what?” Nana yelled beating the table with her hand. “You will do nothing!” The veins in her eyes were bulging. “Now all of you, march out of this class the way you came in before I scream and have you reported for bullying and misconduct!”
The four girls stood glaring at them and breathing heavily, then stormed out. Slowly, Monica sank into the bench beside her and Nana followed suit.
“Girl, can you imagine?” Nana asked, then observed her friend's resigned state. “Monica, are you okay?” she asked then shook her slightly. “Monica,” she called.
“Nana, my father's company is downsizing, and we are afraid he might lose his job; my mother abandoned us when I was three, so there's no one that'll fend for us; my grades are bad, and I'm being considered for withdrawal from the department as we speak.” She began to cry. “As if that's not enough, I'm being bullied at school, there's something wrong with my life.”
“No Monica, there's nothing wrong with your life,” Nana said, reaching out to draw her friend into her arms. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” she said as Monica's body trembled. Soon, she began to cry, also.
They sat there for about an hour before a colleague came in and said, “the results have been pasted.” They looked at each other, and Nana said, “It's going to be all right.”
Monica nodded and slowly, they walked out of the class to the office block. At the block, students clamored around the notice board, struggling to check their grades.
“Can you please check for me?” Monica said and stood back. Nana nodded and pushed through the crowd; soon she was standing face to face with the notice board, her brown eyes glued to the result sheets, then she turned abruptly to look at Monica, who was pale with fear.
“You had a B!” She yelled. You passed!”
Monica's face lit up, with her mouth slightly ajar, and then she doubled over suddenly and began to laugh and cry at the same time. Nana came running, “You had a B!” She repeated. “And I had an A! We both passed!”
Just then, Monica's phone rang, it was her father.
“Hello, Daddy,” she said with a trembling voice. “I passed my last paper.”
“Oh my darling, that's great news,” her father responded. “Congratulations, I'm super proud of you.”
“How is it at the office?” she asked abruptly.
The phone went silent but she could still hear her father breathing. Her eyelids dropped to the floor and she could feel her eyes sting from the gathering tears.
“We're going to be all right, my darling; I'll find another job, so don't worry your head too much.”
Monica nodded, even though the tears threatened to choke her. “Okay, Daddy,” she managed to say.
“I love you.”
I love you too, Daddy.” The line went dead. Monica began to wail, people thought perhaps she had failed her paper, while Nana held her and tried to lead her back to the classroom.
“It's not the end of the world Monica,” Nana said after they were seated. “You still have your admission, you have another opportunity to work on your grades and excel, and I'm willing to help you. Secondly, you have your father. Even though your mother left, your father is here. He will get a new job, and you'll be fine.
“How?” Monica asked amidst tears.
“You’ll be fine, I promise.”
Monica nodded.
“Let’s start by creating a study timetable for you; I'll be your study partner. You'll see you'll do better.” Nana said and smiled brightly.
Monica looked at her and, for the first time since the night before, began to imagine that perhaps there was a silver lining in all of these dark storms anyway.
Mmeyene Joseph
