Young Writers Society

Two

It turns out you suffer the effects of too much alcohol even the day after.

We got to Ginika’s house at a little after eleven. We were in such a bad state, Ginika’s mum got scared and called my mum for help. She had been shouting questions at us but I was too tired to give coherent answers and Ginika was half asleep. As we ambled up the stairs, Ginika holding my hand, I heard her mum on the phone.

“Felicia, I don’t know. They just came back looking tired and miserable. They couldn’t even answer me…” She switched to igbo.

We got to Ginika’s room and she flopped on her bed, not even bothering to change out of her clothes. I was here so much they had put a spare bed in for me. I washed my face and put on one of her nighties. I was tempted to crawl into bed too but I looked over and saw her slumped over. Her dress had ridden above her waist. I wiped her face off with baby wipes and tried to get her to sit up but she was heavy with sleep.

I got a bowl of cold water from the bathroom and splashed it on her face. She groaned and squinted at me. “What’s your problem this girl?” I began to take off her shoes. “Ginika you need to undress.” “Are we in trouble?” I didn’t respond. My parents were going to murder me. I raised her arms and took off her dress. I folded it and put her shoes aside. Her wide toothed comb was on the floor. She undid her bra and looked at me, too tired to help herself. Her eyes widened suddenly. “Aunty Fifi is going to kill you.” I nodded and dragged her tank top over her head. “Kam, it’s my fault…” I shushed her and sat behind her, pushing her head down onto my lap.

I dragged her dark, curly hair through the comb and began to put it in fat braids. I knew she liked her hair braided before bed because when she loosened it, it came out curlier and fuller. She had begun to cry. I started singing one of the songs we had liked when we were little. Something about a monkey and a balloon.

When I was on the last braid, I noticed she had fallen asleep. I placed her head on the pillow and lay down next to her, listening to her heart beat like we used to when were small. We hardly did anything together these days. I embarrassed her sometimes and we couldn’t hang out as much because of school. Ginika raised her arm above her head and I shifted a little.

I lay staring at the white ceiling. “Ginika why are you a whore?” I whispered. “You really need to change.” I glanced over. She was still fast asleep.

“Today in the bathroom--” What was Purple-eyes’ name?

“None of those boys are good for you. They make you feel better about yourself but for how long?”

At that moment, all the bad words and unkind things Ginika had said to me; about my short hair or my rough skin or my mosquitoed legs came back to me. The anger rose like a lump in my throat. Anger and also a little joy that at least one boy was not attracted to Ginika.

“You’re nothing but a stupid slut. Did you hear what I said?!” She was still asleep. “None of those boys will ever like you so you better give up.” I heard her stir and I shut up quickly, afraid she’d heard. I really was not that brave. She turned over.

“You’re a bimbo! A whore! A prostitute. Also, I just thought you should know, I hate your guts!” I was raising my voice now.

“You put me down every time! You make me feel like there’s nothing good about me. Do you remember in primary five when I wore my favourite red dress for valentine’s day and I put red ribbons in my hair? I came to school and walked up to you, all excited and stuff. You were sitting with Ruby and Toni. I tapped you on the shoulder, smiling. You looked back and you laughed. You laughed at me! Then you said ‘She looks like little red riding hood. Except I think the wolf should have eaten her up!’ And everyone in the play ground laughed and said I was so ugly.”

Tears began streaming down my cheeks.

“You apologized but only because you needed my math assignment. I have never gotten over that. Even though we’re best friends now-Ha! We’re friends, can you imagine?-I will never forgive you for that.”

I sniffed and wiped my cheeks. In that moment, it was no longer about Ginika or what she had done. I had never been given an opportunity to express myself or what I felt. I had never been asked whether I acknowledged my flaws or whether I felt good about myself. I was constantly trying to please everyone, accepting that I was just as imperfect as they said I was. No one had tried to make me feel special or wanted or loved. Silently I had accepted all of their nasty comments, heaped it upon myself till I could not breathe but right now, I was so sick of it, I felt if I didn’t say this I would never be able to breathe again. My spirit had grown so small, someone could flick me away, into oblivion.

“Oh yeah and don’t you ever insult my looks again. Don’t you ever say ‘You would look so much better if you wore just a little make up.’ I put on makeup today and I hated it! You know why? Because I looked just like you. You’re just a desperate whore and you think you’re so much better than me. Unfortunately for you, you are not. Did you hear me?!”

I was breathing faster now. Partly out of breath and partly afraid she could hear me.

No answer. She was snoring.

“I said, did you hear me?”