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Episode 19 �


The following week, Kate was finally back from the weekend. During one of her early morning checkups on me, I opened up to her about my plight. I told her everything Meska said. I needed to hear someone else’s opinion. Kate was mute for some seconds after I narrated my ordeal.
When finally she cleared her throat, she said he has the right to know if he is the father of my unborn child. She also said I shouldn’t go back to Meska just like that, or else I’d end up regretting my decision.

Kate said and I paraphrase: “What if he didn’t meet you at the cyber café? What if you tell him he’s not the one responsible? Do you think he would want to continue?” She went on with so many “what if" questions that she seemed to be offended by Meska's action. It was as if she was taking it personally and I felt she was pained.

Well, that wasn’t all from Kate. She still said I should follow my heart, so it wouldn’t seem as if she was the one that made decisions for me. I could tell from her words that she didn’t want it to be obvious she didn’t like Meska. I appreciated her thoughts and suggestions too.

Truth is, my mind was long made up not to have any business with Meska again even though I still missed him as my first love but going back to him was something I dreaded so much. It felt like going back to my vomits. Though I have watched movies and read books in which the protagonist eventually ended up with her ex-boyfriend after a terrible breakup. Well, people are different and unique and I felt I couldn’t deal with going back to Meska after what he did.

So I did exactly what Kate had said to me. It was during one of his regular WhatsApp pestering that I told him I was carrying his baby. Meska was so excited. He used all manner of stickers to express how he felt. I was just wondering why he was excited. While he texted in two lines, I replied reluctantly in one line. I used words like, Okay, yeah, I don’t know, don’t ask me.

Not even a single emoji accompanied my texts. He was busy writing epistles, asking when he would see me again. He said he needed us to talk, do this, and that. I should send him my address. I shunned him to keep off from me, that he shouldn’t bother looking for me because he wouldn't succeed.

He kept holding on to the fact I was carrying his baby to the extent I regretted why I told him earlier. Maybe I shouldn’t have informed him
For good two days, Meska texted me morning and night, trying to rekindle the fire but little did he know the ashes had been watered with a bucket of water. I can’t explain what came over me that I was able to shut off the feelings to go back to him. Maybe I didn’t want him to add to my problems.

I eventually blocked him on WhatsApp and blocked his line too. It was not something I planned on doing but he pushed me so hard that I felt it was the best option and I didn’t regret blocking him. He was always calling me on WhatsApp and video calls too, he was becoming a nuisance, so I stopped him from messing with my mental health. If not for anything, for the sake of my studies and well-being. I deserved some peace of mind.

That was how Meska and I stopped communicating, and whenever an unknown number called, I simply ignored it. I felt he was the one.
So, one day when I doubted my instincts, I answered a call from one of the random numbers that had been calling me, lol, and behold, it was his voice that pierced through my phone. I hanged up immediately and blocked that one too. He finally stopped calling.

He wanted me back but I didn’t want him as much as he desired and longed for me. The thought of him betraying me despite all I did for him made me feel he doesn’t deserve a second chance. Maybe later, but not now that I’m faced with school challenges and hurdles, I said to myself.


My first semester at Unizik wasn’t an easy ride. But even though I felt uncomfortable, I was determined to succeed in my studies. I tried my best to ignore the judgment around me and focus on school. I wanted to set a good example for my unborn baby. I wanted to show him that it’s important never to back down from a challenge. There is no such thing as giving up. So I stood strong enough despite all odds.

Darlington visited one of the weekends. He came on a Friday evening and left the next day because nobody was staying with grandma. While he was with me, we talked and laughed out loud. I had always enjoyed his company. At night, he opted to sleep on the floor but I pleaded for him to share the bed with me but Darlington said he was fine with the floor, I gave him one of my wrappers, so he used it.
I'm sure you understand what he was trying to avoid. Yes, he didn’t trust himself enough to resist me and I respected him for that.

***

Fast forward to eight months of my pregnancy, it was becoming more intense and challenging by the day. It was my first time and it was hellish. Pregnancy comes with sleepless nights and unsteady health conditions.

My second-semester exam was in two weeks. So I went to my course advisor. I told her I was likely to withdraw and come back later. But she encouraged me and asked me to be very strong for the remaining days of the semester, so the withdrawal would make sense. My initial plan was to withdraw and come back the following year but she said I’d have to start all over again if I didn’t wait to write my second-semester exam. And that would automatically make my first semester a waste.

That was what gave me the courage to continue. My course advisor was incredibly supportive. Dr. Mrs. Catherine Akuchukwu, if you’re reading this, I want you to know that I love you, ma. God bless you for being supportive in my university days at Unizik. I’m grateful for everything you did for my sake.

Without her, I wouldn’t have had the courage to continue. She later prayed a short prayer with me in her office and assured me that my unborn baby would open doors for me since I didn’t terminate him as others would do. Yes, him! That was according to the doctor, but I’d wait to see if their scan was right. I was equally expecting a baby boy, too. Don’t ask me why.

Winks.

I called my mom and informed her of what my course advisor said because she was the one who asked me to withdraw and come back later. There was nothing she could do rather than encouraged me to finish up since my exams would start in two weeks. Yet I didn’t hear from my father. I didn’t call him too. I hated being scolded or shouted at, so there was no need to invite it myself.

During the second semester exam, the investigators were kind enough not until the second to the last day of the examination, shit happened. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive that man with a bicycle head for making me fail one of my courses. He stubbornly submitted my answer script when he caught me looking into one of my colleague's paper. Despite my pleads and that of my course mates. He remained adamant.

This man submitted my script forty minutes after we started and my script was still empty. It was one of those things I faced as an undergraduate.
The last day of my second-semester exam was the day I bumped into Meska again. This time he was with his coursemates in a flashy car. They all wore the same clothes, celebrating their last paper as an undergraduate. They were jubilating and applauding themselves for starting and finishing together. It was about eight flashy cars in a convoy. His department was more of boys, just a few girls.

Well, Meska saw me and I saw him too, but we didn’t say anything to each other. He gave me that look that justify he wasn’t pleased with me but I wasn’t moved. I got to where they were and went my way and didn’t bother looking back.

The end of the second-semester examination meant the end of year one. Unizik academic calendar was also fast and there was no ASUU strike that year. I was grateful to God for seeing me through. I thanked Kate for being supportive too.
I went home two days later with my almost due belly. I didn’t go during the day. I waited till evening before I left Awka. I came back around 7 pm and was excited to see Grandma and Darlington again. Home sweet home. I was glad.

Five days later, aroun5 am, I started feeling unusual. It was so intense that Darlington rushed to call Papa Ada, one of our neighbors who owned a car. Darlington helped me get into the car. I was so weak. Grandma was standing with her rechargeable lamp. She was supposed to go to church that morning but she joined us as we headed toward the hospital.

Long story short, before 6 am, I was delivered of a bouncing baby boy. He was damn heavy. I can’t remember vividly what he weighed. It might seem so simple I said I was delivered of a baby boy, trust me, it wasn’t an easy ride. I went through distress and anguish. But I was thankful to God it was successful and didn’t involve surgery.
Ziggy, welcome to motherhood, I said to myself while I lay tiredly on the hospital bed.


To be continued...
© Frank The Writer

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Episode 18 �

Meska walked up to me at the cyber café. He stared into my eyes and for some seconds we didn’t say anything to each other.

“Ziggy,” he finally broke the short silence.
“Yes! What’s it?” I thundered.
He was shocked by my rude and quick response. He probably didn’t believe I’d shout at him.
“Ziggy, what happened?”
“What happened to what?”
“What's up with this your big stomach?”

“Please and please, I beg you in the name of whatever you serve, this is a public place, don’t just start asking me useless questions.” I was boiling in anger.
“Hmm, this girl has changed,” he said in a low tone. He stood there staring at me. He was simply short of words.

“Guy, come. Henry just called now. He said our project supervisor wouldn’t sign our work unless we are present, and he said we should be there in the next ten minutes.” Announced one of the girls he left behind. Meska followed them immediately as they left. And that reminded me Meska was in his finals. It was quite relieving, knowing his days on the University campus were numbered. I was glad he would soon round up and leave the school.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he already ruined my day with his presence. When he left, I was still flared up. Some folks around the cyber café constantly stole a gaze in my direction because Meska wanted to create a scene he wouldn’t like the outcome. The way I would have disgraced him before his friends, he would wish he never knew me. I was even ready to punch him if he tried anything stupid.
I later left the place when I was done photocopying my documents for departmental clearance.

***

Later in the night, I was scrolling through my phone when a WhatsApp message popped up on my screen from an unsaved contact. I was quick to recall the number, it was that of Meska. I had long deleted his number from my phone. I opened his message and our previous conversation surfaced on my phone.
“Ziggy” was his first text followed by “Are you pregnant?” I read both but I didn’t reply to him.
"You’re not replying. Can you just talk? Who is responsible?” I still didn’t bother typing anything after reading his texts? He stopped.

Minutes later, he called my line twice, I ignored him like a heap of shit by the roadside. I even felt like blocking his contact but still couldn’t do it. The drama of the dissolution of our relationship was as undignified and painful. I still missed Meska but at the same time, I needed to work on myself, and I needed to be alone to achieve that.

I kept scrolling through my phone. Nobody was there to keep my company. Kate traveled for the weekend; it was on a Friday. I was in too much pain to eat, to watch TV, too. Surprised? No, you shouldn’t. I bought a TV because I was always indoors, so I needed something to keep me busy and keep my mind off certain things. I had a medium generator too.

The next day, Meska texted again. He said if I could tell him where I lived or perhaps pay him a visit at his lodge. He also suggested we meet up somewhere and talk. “You ain’t gonna see again. You saw me by mistake. So, say whatever you want to say, I’m all ears.” I finally replied to him. He started typing immediately.
After three minutes, he was still typing, and I wondered what it was he had been typing.

After five minutes or so, his message finally popped up on my screen. I didn’t want him to feel I was desperate to read his messages. I intentionally went offline and returned after a few minutes. I opened it to behold a long text written in four paragraphs. He wasn’t showing up online when I read his long text.

The summary of his long epistle was a call for reconciliation. Meska apologized for cheating. He said it was all his fault. He said he was sorry for the pain he must gave caused me. He said he knew he bleeped up and wants to make things better this time. In the second paragraph, he said he is no longer with the girl. They had parted ways too. In the third paragraph, Meska said his financial status has changed too and he really wants me back. And finally, he said he had this feeling he was the one responsible for my pregnancy. He said he would take care of my baby and me till I give birth.

By the time I was done reading his messages, tears dropped on my screen and I wiped them with my left hand. Everything I read was ringing in my head. But I couldn’t imagine going back to the same person who caused me so much pain. I battled with what I’d tell him and at the same time, I felt emotional my his long text. A part of me still missed Meska. He was my first lobe, and everything we shared and did together was still fresh in my memory.

I picked up my phone and started typing what seemed like a long response and it went thus: It’s over between us. Our views of the world are too different. You’re a terrible person. You’re selfish and fake. You used and dumped me. You broke my heart in the worst manner and never cared where I slept that night. You’re cruel and heartless. I don’t deserve you, I deserve someone better. And for the baby, it’s not yours. You’re not the father of my unborn baby, so don’t give yourself hope. I paused and stared at the text.

Seconds later, I cleared them all. Yes, I didn’t send it to him. He didn’t deserve my response and explanation. So, instead of replying to Meska, I suffered by not texting back. I sincerely didn’t want him to know he was the one responsible for the pregnancy. He might start pestering me.
For days, I couldn’t think properly. Some part of me felt Meska actually meant well to me and might probably need a second chance to prove himself while the other part of me felt like moving on.

I was confused. What do you think I should do? I still have feelings for him.

To be continued…
© Frank The Writer











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Living With My Grandma

Episode 17 �

My first week on the university campus wasn’t as planned. I got stressed and felt depressed in my solitary confinement. The strenuous registration process almost drained me. Departmental clearance, Faculty clearance, and other things fresher’s were required to do.
On average, I’d say a typical unizik student, (‘Zikite') is a bookworm. Students here were majorly bibliophiles. Everyone wanted to graduate with first-class and the hustle was real.

My biggest hurdle was getting up quite early to prepare breakfast and get to class early to occupy the front seat but I’d always end up at the back seat. The seats at the front were always filled with more students than they could handle; leg space was a luxury. I attended general classes with hundreds of other students, and that was horrible. And that made me detest morning lectures. I preferred afternoon classes because I’d have enough time to prepare very well.

I also found out that the workload in the University was a lot more intense than in secondary school, especially a particular Physics course I offered in the first semester. I didn’t like Physics right from time because it involved numerous and complex formulas and units. I had always preferred Chemistry while I was in secondary school.

Meeting up with the assignments wasn’t much of a stress to me even though it could be much sometimes. I am quite an organized kind of person, I love a list and I worked to deadlines. If I had an assignment three weeks away, I’d do it the last three days before. I was very efficient in that aspect. Sometimes I paid hugely to get them done.

I never got fresher’s flu—I had morning sickness instead. While other freshers were busy doing some kinds of stuffs new men on campus did, I sat in my room, wondering about the embryo inside me. I was worried about what the journey of nine months would look like.

Did I forget to tell you about my accommodation? Oh! Forgive me. My bad! I lived off-campuses and considering my condition, it was better off than sharing a room with students in the female hostel. I needed my privacy, so I lived alone at Ifite. I had no roommate too. It was just me and I alone. Sometimes I’d be hungry yet nauseous, unable to face my kitchen with its clutch of dirty pans and smells that irritated me. I’d lazy around, feeding on junk food steadily.

I’d hold back the morning sickness in classes by taking bitter kola which Kate recommended to me. Kate was one of my lodge mates. Her room was directly opposite and that made us get close to each other. She was God-sent. Every morning, she would check up on me and ask how I was feeling. She was older than I.
Kate was 24 and equally a fresher. She said she rewrote Jamb thrice before finally settling for a course she didn’t want. And that made me realize how privileged I was to have gotten admitted in my first attempt. I remember during the orientation and fresher’s week, we were told how privileged we were to be at Unizik.

Kate was homely and knew so much about pregnancy tips. Her elder sister was once in my shoes and she was close to her during that period, so she knew a lot about my experience. She was one person that I shared my story with, not like I trusted her, but because she deserved to know about me with the way and manner she treated me like a sister, although we weren’t from the same State.

If I had no classes in the morning, I’d look for a nearby cafeteria to get myself breakfast. Cooking was one of the things I couldn’t deal with during this period of my life. Kate had always been the one forcing me to cook and oftentimes she made the food herself. She was good at preparing local delicacies.

The only funny thing about Kate was her accent. She was a typical Igbo girl. You would easily detect that from her use of English and the way she talked. She was always interchanging ‘R’ for ‘L’. She pronounced Rice (food) as Lice, Road (paths) as Load, and just like that. But I couldn’t correct her because I didn’t know how she would feel and I was afraid of losing her. So, it had always been other people who made jest of her.

Being an introvert made me have fewer friends. Just a few coursemates with whom I barely share much about myself. I didn’t want any of them to know much about me, just to avoid unnecessary drama and gossip about my pregnancy. I barely chatted in our departmental group chat. All I did was read every single message, so I don’t miss out on any important info.
I missed out on most social gatherings too, because I dreaded what people would say about me. I missed freshers nights and other uni nights. There was always a buzzing nightlife in Ifite and Temp–site.

****

Those first few weeks after I started showing up were awful. I was sure everyone on campus was looking at me anytime I passed. I felt like they were all whispering about me behind my back. The stigmas and stereotypes too were depressing. A strain of people looking at me as though it was the biggest mistake of my life.
Even when I didn’t know many people on campus, I faced a lot of judgment. I did my best to cover it up, wearing oversized sweatshirts for weeks, but like the Igbo people would say and if interpreted, they would say that one cannot cover pregnancy with hand. With the increase in the size of my belly, the judgment became more apparent and isolating. It was difficult to be outside. As the pregnancy progressed, I felt enormous walking to and fro campus to my apartment.

I realized pregnancy quickly forces a young person to become a mature adult, it was emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausting to balance it with school stress. Mentally, I was exhausted from having to split my attention between school and taking care of myself. Emotionally, it was exhausting because people either judged me for being young, single, and pregnant or they simply give me looks of pity for those same reasons. I have overheard people say silly things about my plight. It was one of the hardest situations I had to face in my life.

Darlington called me on phone and we chatted too. We made plans when it would be convenient for me to go for an antenatal checkup. He was caring about my well-being and I felt it during those periods with his steady calls. It even seemed like he was my boyfriend. We talked almost every day and grandma would sometimes talk with me through his phone. I missed them, that sometimes, I felt like going back home.

My mom still called me too. I remember the first call I had with her in school and how we both cried – a lot. But getting it off my chest helped me feel better. I turned to her frequently on the tough days that followed. And I’m grateful for her support. She continually encouraged me to stay positive when I was full of negativity. My father hardly called and I wasn’t surprised.

I didn’t go broke in my early days at the University. I guess because of my pregnancy, mom credited my account with a reasonable amount of money every two weeks. She knew I needed it for my upkeep and antenatal. I felt dad probably gave her money to send too because I didn’t get a credit alert from him.
My uncle, Clinton equally kept to his words. He also sent me money too, and he would call to check up on me. So, money wasn’t a challenge, just the stress of going about with the baby inside of me.

Gradually, I got more inclined toward campus life. Well, maybe the best life for some people, because it was a world on its own. Everyone had the freedom to do what they like. There were different characters and individuals you’d meet on campus, the ‘Ajebos’ those rich folks from a wealthy homes, always showing off with flashy cars, expensive wear, living a luxurious lifestyle. There were also church people; the prayer warriors, always going for one fellowship or the other and turning every building into a fellowship center.

How about the wannabe politicians? The comrades. They are always on cooperate wears and suits even when the sun is scorching. Then the student celebrities? The lone wolf? The ones that go in a clique? The non-academic students? The city guys, and the ‘I–Know–Book' folks but a few to mention.
So many kinds of people you’d meet here.

One hot afternoon, I was at the cybercafe inside the campus to photocopy some documents. I had a cold Pepsi in my left hand to cool off the heat. The sun was extremely scorching. I stood there waiting for my turn. There were other students too, who wanted to photocopy some materials.
Then I overhead a voice from behind. Something was familiar about this particular voice, it sends some sensation down my spines. When I turned to see who's voice was that, well, your guess is as good as mine, Meska was the one. Our eyes met in seconds. I was startled. My heart suddenly began to beat faster and I couldn't tell why. I watched his eyes as they went below, gazing at my belly. He was shocked.

There were two other girls by his side, his coursemates or perhaps his friends. I quickly averted my eyes and faced front. Damn! Meska was looking fresh and cute. This time, the center of his head was braided. No longer the usual 'Gallas' style he was known with. I was having random thoughts, something in me felt I should look back and be sure it was him, Meska was coming in my direction when finally I turned.

Jeez, my whole body was shuddering.

To be continued...
© Frank The Writer

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Episode 16 �

I was in the backyard and yet I could hear my father’s voice clearly as he asked Darlington my whereabouts. Darlington was stammering, trying to act like he didn’t know where I was, not until my father left a thunderous slap on his face. Gosh! I heard it and my whole body shivered. I took on my heels immediately. I left through the back gate. I disappeared with the speed of light.

I knew what my father could do. He was completely unpredictable. He was brutal and it was never advantageous to my siblings and I. He was built like a bodybuilder, incredibly muscular. He would use his leather belt on us, and not just across the buttocks, but the back, legs, and anywhere he could get to. I couldn’t stand to face my father in grandma’s absence, so I ‘bolted’ as in Usain Bolt, I ran.

Winks.

Darlington’s POV

I can’t remember the last time got swatted on my face but it came so quick than expected from Zee's father while I tried lying about Zee's whereabouts. If I could get such a slap, what then would become of Zee, I had pondered. He searched every nook and cranny but didn’t see her yet.
I was shocked when he came back the second time. I had thought Zee went upstairs, and that was where I directed him when he slapped me.

“Where did you say she went to?” he asked.
“I thought she went upstairs. I don’t just know. She left immediately she sighted you.” I confessed, just to avoid another one from him.
“Okay then, she will run and meet me here,” he stalked off.

I tried calling Zee only to see her phone vibrating on her bed. I sighed slowly and left her room.

Zee's POV

When I thought of where I’d stay and I couldn’t think of any of my friend's places to go. Then I remembered Janet’s shop, the fashion designer grandma told me about the other time. Her shop was not too far from our house, so I went there.

“Good afternoon, aunty Janet.” I greeted her.
“Zee, kedu? How are you doing?”
“Aunty, I’m fine. How’s the work going?”
“My dear, we thank God. We’re pushing it as usual.

There was a young girl in the inner room ironing clothes while Aunty Janet was using her feet on the sewing machine. I soon noticed she had her eyes on my belly, and I knew exactly what was going on in her mind, it was clearly written on her face but aunty Janet didn’t seem to ask about it or probably teased me of overfeeding, but she didn’t do any of that. She minded her business. I sat on the long wooden bench outside. We got talking and I told her that I only felt like leaving the house, it was unlike me and she was surprised I came to spend time with her, little did she know I was avoiding being beaten by my father.

I stayed back with her till when I felt grandma must have returned from wherever she went to. So I walked back reluctantly, dragging my feet as I walked. I was simply scared of the unknown. Millions of thoughts on how my father would handle me. My heart was beating faster.
When finally I got home, I tiptoed through the small black gate in the backyard. I overheard him discussing with grandma in the living room, so I paused to see if they were talking about me, but they were talking about something different. I peeped and saw him relaxed on one of the couches in the sitting room, directly opposite grandma.

I peeped and withdrew my face at intervals not until my footwear fell off my hand, causing them to look in my direction. I withdrew immediately.
“Ziora,” grandma called. I got frozen. She knew it was me even without getting to see my face. I didn’t answer. I remained calm. I thought my father would say anything but he was mute. Grandma added with one Igbo proverb, saying that no matter how long I ran or perhaps hide, I’d still come out. I still stayed quiet and remained where I stood. I was that type of person that hated confrontation, raised voices and violence scared me.

Unfortunately, I didn’t realize how fast my father was able to get hold of me. I didn’t know he was coming and when I popped my head from my hiding corner, he grabbed me on the neck. Damn! I screamed, begging him not to beat me but he didn’t listen to my plea. He shoved me in the direction of my room, threw me on the bed, and proceeded to use his belt to ‘tan my hide' I wasn’t sure how long it went on but my back was sore, but not bleeding.

I was crying out wild and it broke my heart that grandma didn’t make any move to interfere nor tried to stop him from hitting me hard, because I was carrying a baby in me. After I had left the house because she wasn’t around to intervene, there she sat unmoved in the living room. And what made it all worst was that my cousin's brother, Darlington stood at my bedroom door and watched helplessly.

I didn’t move from the bed nor talked to anybody throughout the remaining hours of the day. I lay there on my bed, tears streaming on my pillowcases. It was such a terrible memory to remember and that was the last time my father hit me. The beating really affected me. I’d have nightmares, I’d get moody and depressed for seemingly no reason.

During the days my father spent in the village, we were probably the second verse of Tom and Jerry. He did make me feel like I committed the worst crime. My sight irritated him that he didn’t want to look me in the face, always averting his eyes. I bet I was the worst thing that happened to him in recent times. And the truth is, he had this trust in me. He never believed I could be that wayward to the extent of having sex at my age.

He even threatened to get Meska arrested for having sex with a minor but deep down I was like, me, a minor? I was already eighteen. I knew he was just blabbering and would do no such thing. He had always been like that towards other people but certainly not his children, he would make sure he dealt with us.

He left the village after one week and he didn’t come purposely for my sake, other issues brought him home. When he went back to Abuja, I had issues with grandma for not coming to my rescue when my father almost took me to the land of the deaths. But grandma responded by saying since she couldn’t lay her hands on me, she left me to get the double from my father and that was why he didn’t move.
Just imagine what grandma said. What if I had died?

****

Fast forwarding, my days in the village was gradually coming to an end by the breaking of a new day. I was making plans for another phase of life; life in the University. The school was to resume in a week, so I made my hair and bought some new clothes that would ease my pregnancy. I bought footwear and other accessories too.
Darlington and I equally went to the market to get some foodstuffs, and that reminded me how hard I had been sustaining Meska with foodstuffs.

Being admitted to the great citadel of learning, Nnamdi Azikiwe University, Awka (Unizik) was such a gift from God and something I didn’t merit because of my wayward life during those periods. I thought God would have punished me by not granting my heart's desires.

I had mixed feelings about it as I was happy for I would finally go out of grandma's prying eyes and live an independent life, chasing my dreams. But on the other side, knowing I was going there as a pregnant young girl really bothered me. I was troubled by what people would say or think about me. Aside from that, I was faced with the questions of what and how to study, what to participate in, how to fend for myself and my unborn baby, how to cope with the dizziness and weakness of the body that comes with pregnancy, how to accomplish my goals, to mention a few.

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve had my life planned out. I said to myself I was going to get my degrees, get a job, travel the world, and live comfortably with my hair done perfectly every day. And I would wait until at least 27 or 28 before getting married, and having kids.

That dream came to a screeching halt, realizing I was heading to the University as a pregnant young lady who might not even have the opportunity to meet up with lots of school activities. I didn’t have the slightest clue what the rest of my life was going to look like. I was enveloped with the fear of the unknown. To be honest, part of me felt like I had died. My dreams seemed like it was slipping away.

I also felt terrible knowing I had chances of meeting a lot of people I knew. I had some secondary school friends who were also students of Unizik. I had other people I knew from church and other places. I was worried about what they would say and think of me when they see my protruded belly on campus.

September, I was finally leaving Darlington and grandma behind to face another phase of life. I spoke with my mom, she encouraged me. My father was still upset and I didn’t want him yelling over the phone like a dog. Grandma said some words of advice to me. She encouraged me too. She added I should always remember where I’m coming from and since I was pregnant, I should mind the kind of friends I keep.

Darlington? Well, that one was sad I was leaving him behind. He badly wished he could come with me, but he promised he would visit me regularly to see how I was doing.

It was on a Friday evening, the weather was clear and inviting when I left with my bags and luggage in pursuit of my dreams and that welcomed me to a new phase of life; school life. Arguably, the best life, as they said. But I’d have to wait and see if truly school life is the best.

To be continued…
© Frank The Writer

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Captaintitan:
Nice story line OP

Thank you.

blesskewe:
Thanks op

U got me hooked

My pleasure.

I'm glad you like it

Ann2012:
Well done OP

.
Thank you

Living With My Grandma

Episode 15 �

Grandma came in and walked straight in my direction. Her countenance wasn’t that rosy. She coughed and cleared her throat. My heart was beating gbim gbim gbim… Darlington still stood at the door waiting to hear what grandma would say or do.

“Ziora, so you’re pregnant?” She finally broke the awkward silence in the Igbo language.
“Noo, I’m not pregnant, grandma. We were just…”
“Mechieee onu — shut up!” She exclaimed.
It was at this point I knew I was in deep shit. She seemed to have been listening to all we have been saying. Darlington turned to walk out but she called him back.

“And you, special adviser. Weldon. I heard everything you told her to do. Your parents will hear about it,” grandma threatened. Please, note that everything grandma said was in Igbo, so I’m only interpreting them in English. Darlington didn’t seem bothered by grandma’s threat. He just leaned against the wall of my room and watched grandma unleash her anger.

Grandma was going to hit me angrily but I had to dodge. She was so disappointed, annoyed, and dumbfounded for a few minutes. She stood there and stared at me, but I couldn’t look her in the eyes. Shame and self-pity enveloped me.
Then she went on to talk and talk. She even went on in Igbo proverbs, she said something about a stubborn fly that goes into the grave with the coffin. Grandma loved to speak in parables too. There was nothing she didn’t say. She reminded me about her warnings and how she cautioned me about moving with boys but I wouldn’t listen. I badly wish I could reverse the whole day and wait till night before running the test. That was what filled my heart, regrets, and nothing more.

“You must not think of killing that innocent baby. You must keep her and feel the pain of motherhood, so in your next world you would listen to advise.” Grandma said and left. I had never seen her in that mood before. She was damn disappointed. And that was it, all secrets were finally open. I was numb; I couldn’t say anything nor moved my body. The thought of my parents getting to know about it scared the shit out of me and not long, I felt the urge to use the toilet. I quickly rushed in and locked the door while Darlington sat dumbfounded on the bed.

As I sat in the water closet, I found out I was sweating. Some memories came rushing through my head. The good, the bad, and the ugly. All clustered in my head. It was dawn on me that I was on my way to motherhood. Motherhood at 18? Or, probably 19, because my birthday was four months ahead. I spent close to an hour in the toilet not minding the smell that oozes from there. Nothing felt right in my sense. I guess I couldn’t even smell anything at that moment. And when I came out, Darlington was no longer in my room. I reached to the door and bolted it up and down before slumping on my bed. I thought of Meska, I thought of the probability of him denying being responsible later on. It was still morning but I had zero zeal to do anything.

Fast forwarding, when finally, the news got to my father through grandma, it seemed hell got loosened that day. I was crying while my father was talking to me on the phone, and woe betides me if I dare end up the call on him. My father said a lot of unimaginable things that could make one consider suicide. He said he won’t have anything to do with me and my unborn child. By this, he meant I shouldn’t call him for anything concerning money. If it were left for my father alone, he would want me to abort the baby.

He considered what I did a big shame to his family. He went on to compare me with my siblings and that really got me. He said I was the worst of them all for bringing down his name and that of the entire family. My father threatened to arrest whoever was responsible for my pregnancy any day he stepped his feet in our house. When he ended the call, I cried like a baby. There was nothing this man didn’t say to me. His words kept ringing in my head day after day.

Later in the night of that same day, my mom called. This was one of the worst periods of my stay in the village. At first, I didn’t pick up. She called again, I struggled with my phone and before I could decide whether to swipe right or not, it ended again. My whole body vibrated. I pondered what she could say to me. She had to call through grandma’s phone, and when I thought I had gotten the worst scolding of my life from my father, then came to my mom yelling over the phone. She was crying too.

My mom was literally going crazy with the way she sounded. She was like: Ziora, you’re too young to go through the challenges of pregnancy. She said a lot of things at the same time. “How would you cope with pregnancy and school? How would you do this, and how would you do that?” She was asking a lot of questions that I didn’t have an answer to. I started crying too, and that helped me from dodging her endless queries. She made mentioned why she didn’t buy the idea of me staying back in the village and even schooling in Nigeria.

The call lasted for fifty minutes before her airtime got exhausted. I hated myself at that moment. I hated myself for coming in contact with Meska. And sadly he wasn’t aware I was carrying his baby. I had deleted his number, so I could stop seeing his WhatsApp status. I felt depressed, betrayed, and saddened by the fact that I might forfeit my admission or get into the University with pregnancy.

My uncles weren’t left out. They were disappointed too. But Clinton was lenient with his words. He promised to take care of my studies and the pregnancy if eventually, my father turned his back on me like he said, which I doubted. Maybe because Clinton also had a baby with his girlfriend during his University days and he knew exactly what it feels like to be in my shoe.

Well, the did have been done and I had to face the consequences of my action. As they said, nobody is coming to save you. So I wiped my tears and braved up. And that was how my journey as a pregnant young girl began. My belly wasn’t big at the initial stage. The major thing was, that I always had that I-need-to-pee right now kind of feeling. Morning sickness hit hard! Like really hard! I could hardly keep anything down. I was steadily throwing up here and there. I threw up so violently that it forced me to pee at the same time. So embarrassing! My mouth was always filled with saliva. I could spit here and there to the extent, that Darlington felt irritated.

Darlington was so understanding during this period, he took care of most house chores while I spent my days trying to figure out what foods I could tolerate. Darlington did a great job in the kitchen during this period of my life. He cooked all sorts of delicacies. And I did plead with him not to tell Annabel about my predicament. Though he said they weren’t together anymore, I couldn’t trust him. He was prone to lies.

Then, I hated the smell of almost everything. My room smelled bad to me. I could perceive the smell of lots of home appliances, and I could barely cook because I couldn’t stand the smell of anything simmering on the stove.
Grandma made me a special delicacy with Uziza leaves which was believed to be beneficial to pregnant women. I craved badly for African delicacies made with palm oil. They were appealing to me. I also loved Abacha (African salad) which grandma made for me. And I appreciated the fact that grandma still cared so well, even after scolding me.

Waking up several times at night to go pee wasn’t fun at all. All-day, I slept like one who had been affected by a tsetse fly. I slept while pressing my phone and while doing other things.

***
Weeks later, clearance and registration began at Unizik. My belly was still tender and invisible. Nobody could tell I was pregnant. So, I went without any fear of stigmatization from onlookers. It wasn’t a day process. I spent money to and fro for days, and I equally used that opportunity to search for an affordable lodge.

The pregnancy seemed to change everything about me. I needed to work on myself, and I needed to be alone to do that. I stopped thinking about the past; the thought that Meska used and dumped me. I stopped hurting myself with the past. I’m not going to lie, it was never easy. Of course, I still had feelings for Meska but I needed to help myself get rid of his thoughts from my head.

Sometimes I cried when I was alone—little cries that came up out of nowhere, and sometimes they subsided quickly. Other times, I collapsed on the floor sobbing. I even stopped eating properly. Darlington was the only one that kept my company. I didn’t have any good friends around.

A week before I was to resume school fully, I went with Darlington for an antenatal check-up at a hospital in the neighboring town where we got registered. I had this mood swing, getting angry with everyone for no reason. At the receptionist, I sat and faced down because I didn’t want to speak to anyone, and I didn’t want anyone to look at me. My belly was gradually coming out. I had a slight cramp below my abdomen too. I placed my right hand on my belly and snorted.

During the checkup when the pains faded, “You’ll be fine,” said one of the nurses in a white dress. I also had one and one with the doctor. He counseled and enlightened me on things I should avoid doing, and things I should start eating too. He encouraged me to be strong too. He was such a nice doctor. He didn't make me feel bad in any way.

Later when we got back home, I felt dizzy and sweaty. It felt like I’d pass out. Grandma wasn’t around. It was just Darlington and I in the house. I slumped tiredly on the bed. He came and ask if I’d like to eat anything, and I replied in the negative. He turned and headed towards the door but he soon stopped abruptly like he saw something through the windows.

“What’s that?” I asked.
“Isn’t that your father’s car outside the gate?”
I got frozen for some seconds. My whole being shivered.
“Toyota Camry?” I asked seconds later.
“Yes,” Darlington replied hastily.
“Damn! This man came unannounced, and Grandma is not here to save my ass.”
I jumped off the bed. I left my room and ran towards the backyard.


To be continued...
© Frank The Writer
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Golden2100:
Chai matter Don cast for her o

It's a pity

kceemart:
Thanks for the update.Zee will learn her lesson in a hard way after now.I just pray she come out of the whole mess.

Surely.. She will.

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Thank you.


Episode 15 will be out soon

Adesina12:
And you said it
Yawa don gas
Issok let’s see where it ends
Sweet popcorn for you

Lol... We find out soon

Episode 14 �

After I realized I had been offered admission to study the course of my choice, I was steadily active in the aspirant group chat. I didn’t want to miss out on any important information relating to the clearance and every other registration process.

A week later, I was beginning to notice some changes in my body. I felt tired regularly, my boobs hurt and I was nauseous and 3 days late for my period. It was strange. I never felt that way before and my instincts insisted I was expecting a baby!!! But I quickly debunked that thought immediately. How could it be now that I have been offered admission?

Another thing that made me feel I had been knocked up was the unignorable urge to pee. Like, I was the queen of holding my urge to use the restroom. I always prefer to hold it in. But when I tried many times, I found out I couldn’t do that anymore. I always rush to the bathroom and pee.

Grandma seemed to notice the changes too, but I told her I was sick. I knew if I had delayed more and didn’t act fast, and peradventure it turned out I was pregnant, she would know after some days. So, I opened us to Darlington. I told him about the changes I had been noticing lately. He asked if Meska and I did anything, I didn’t lie, I said yes. He shook his head, disappointed. I didn’t care. I only needed to do something very urgent before it becomes obvious if perhaps my assumptions were true.

Darlington agreed to assist. Truth be told, he was literally like my bestie. My partner in crime. It seemed as if weren’t blood-related. I’d say friends with benefits. That was weird though, but that was what it seemed like. Darlington later confessed he wanted to date Annabel but he soon found out she was a ‘player’ and he didn’t like her ‘Aba' brought up kind of attitude, too. I knew Darlington told lies sometimes, so I couldn’t tell if he was being sincere, or if it was part of his lies. That boy can tell lie for Africa. I fear who no fear Darlington.

So, Darlington obliged to help me find out if I was pregnant or not. He asked for money, I gave him #500 naira. He went to a nearby chemist and returned.
He came back with what he called a pregnancy test. I haven’t heard of it before. I didn’t even know such a thing existed. It’s like litmus paper. He then taught me how it’s been used. According to him, I’d need to pee and dip the paper inside my pee, if it turned out with a double stripe, it meant positive but if the outcome was just a single strip, then it meant I wasn’t pregnant. Darlington said it’s better used in the morning, which was according to the Chemist. He said it was in the morning when hCG levels are most concentrated in the urine.

Did I even know what hCG level was? Damn! I was just scared. Something kept telling me I was pregnant, considering the marathon sex with Meska that early morning. And realizing Meska and I wasn’t in good terms worsened my fear.

So, one morning, I summoned the courage to do the test. I told Darlington I was going to check it that morning. So he was in my room when I went inside the bathroom with a container. My heart thudded against my ribs. I was scared of the unknown. What if it eventually turns out double? What next? What would grandma say? My mom, Dad, and siblings? The neighbors? And my admission, too? I was startled by my thoughts. It’s all your fault, when you were smooching with him, you didn’t realize that for every action, there are equal and opposite reactions, the thought that came judging me.

When I did the sign of the cross, my eyes were closed for no reason. I pulled my undies, bent down, and peed on a container. I opened my eyes and brought out the pregnancy test that looked like paper. I read and re-read the instructions and precautions on its body.

“Zee,” Darlington called from my room.
“Yes, I’m coming.”
“Why is it taking you time?”

Silence.

“I hope you know how to use it?”

Silence.

“Zeeee.. You’re not saying anything?” He finally opened the door and met me crying.

“What is it?” He took the pregnancy test from my hand and glanced at it. There were two red lines. I was on the mission to multiply and fill the earth.
Darlington hissed and shook his head, disappointed.
"Zee, why? You should have done better? Why allow that boy to drill you without protection?” He added to my discomfort.
“Ssshhh..” I admonished him to keep shut amidst tears that flooded my cheeks and eyes.

Grandma was around, and I didn’t want her to find out. “Then, stop crying, too. Isn’t she going to ask why you’re crying?” I was mute. I didn’t know what to say or answer. “Zee, there’s always a way out,” he said, leading me out from the bathroom to my room. “What way? Abortion, isn’t that what you think?” I said inaudibly. He didn’t say anything. He simply sat at the edge of my bed.

“You know abortion is a big sin and what if I die in the process?”
“Can you just stop? Nobody is going to die. This is not one of those books you read,” he paused.
“What do you mean?”
“I meant what I said. Besides, there’s nothing like big sin and small sin. All sins are equal before God.

I stared Surprisingly at him. I knew we were taught in Catholic Church that there is small and big sin and what he wanted me to do was categorized as a big sin. Darlington and I weren’t of the same denomination though. His father was one of the senior pastors of one Pentecostal church. Darlington was just the opposite of his father. He was far from being a pastor's son. He was simply a very good bad boy. His look can be deceitful.

“Yes. There is nothing like big sin you just have to do this and save yourself before anyone else finds out. You know your father would be disappointed.”
Darlington was saying all manner of things and I felt the devil was just speaking through him. He must have done something similar too. Not like I was planning to keep the pregnancy but I was equally considering if I peradventure I passed out in the process.

I was young and I didn’t know what it feels like to get rid of pregnancy. I have only read in books and stories how strange and sharp objects are being inserted into a woman’s Instruments, and the whole process hurts them too. While some died in the process and a few others had lost their wombs during the process. And above all, it was considered a big sin before God. Soiling one's hand with blood. That though dreaded me too. So, I'd have to kill an innocent baby?

Then, Darlington went on to narrate there were modern ways of getting rid of it. Hence, mine was still tender, just weeks of pregnancy. He said there won’t be any form of complication. He said I’d only need to take some drugs and get the thing flushed away. Dude said it like it was so easy. I haven’t done it before and his words were gradually sinking in my heart.

For a few minutes, I simply sat there. I couldn’t feel anything and my brain didn’t seem to work. It was as if everything was behind a thick pane of glass. My eyes were wide and I couldn’t focus them. I couldn’t think. I didn’t know what to do.

“Zee, whenever you’re ready, tell me. I’ll buy the drugs. Act fast oo..before grandma finds out.” He headed towards the door and when he opened it, he was shocked. Grandma was standing behind the door and it was obvious she had been there for a while. Damn! I was frozen. I felt my heart beating faster than usual. Darlington stood there like a pole. He was dumbfounded.


To be continued….
© Frank The Writer

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