Two Birds

Ten

I was home.

Only thing that stood in between me and my bed was the black gate.

" Chisom. " A deep voice called from behind me.

I turned. My eyes meeting a tall, dark skinned man who was dressed in a casual t-shirt and jeans. Another person who had been affected by Isioma's death.  Her father; Mr. Orji. His face looked exactly the same as it was on the day of the funeral; it was colourless and stoic and his heart, much like mine had split into two and had been sewn roughly with needles.

" Good afternoon sir. " I greeted, holding on to my bag straps and internally telling myself to smile so that maybe my smile could be transferred to him.

He forced a smile, " Chisom, how have you been?"

" Fine, Sir. " I responded, biting the deep skin of my lips off.

" I know you are tired from school today so I will go straight to the point. My wife. . ." He pointed to the gray car that was parked just past my gate–a car I had failed to notice. I saw her. Mrs. Orji; her head was wrapped in a dark scarf and her eyes were staring deeply into space. " And, I saw your father early this afternoon so we came to see you as well to say our final goodbye."

" Goodbye? Where? Where are you going to?"

He scratched his bald head. " This past days have really been tough on us so we decided that a fresh start somewhere else would be best especially for Ijeoma; she rarely eats nor sleep. She spends all her time in Isioma's room crying. So we will be moving to Lagos. "

I nodded faintly. A fresh start was something we all needed.

The door of the car opened and Mrs. Orji stepped out; a light skinned beauty in a black dress and a mourning spirit. In hand, she held a medium sized blue box.

" Hello, Chisom. " Mrs. Orji said, standing next to her husband.

" Good afternoon Ma. " I greeted.

Mrs. Orji grinned. " My husband has already told you that we are going to Lagos. "

I nodded.

She continued, fiddling with the box. " We might never come back to Abuja and if Lagos doesn't give us what we're looking for– we might leave to another country and before we go I wanted you to have this. " she raised the box forward to me.

A box?

" This box was Isioma's most prized possession. " she smiled, dryly. " She said that her next of kin to this box was you and if anything ever happened to her, the box untampered with should go to you. " The smile faded and a trickle of tears graced her eyes. " You should have it because she wanted you to have it. "

I collected it from her. Isioma never told me she had a box. What would I find in Isioma's prized box?

***

A half eaten bowl of indomie and egg. A half completed Physics assignment and a mysterious blue box. The items that filled my head and my reading table currently.

I shifted the bowl together with the physics assignment to the end of the table and pushed the box closer.

It was a normal box; the kind of child-like box that was pretty easy looking for the eye, not the kind of box that required a key or caused a strain in the brain. The colour theme of the box was what made me truly believe that it was hers. The iconic blue.

The box had an unsnap kind of lock. I opened it. A darker shade of blue was inside. The first thing that caught my eyes were a stack if photos wrapped in a black rope kind of string. I picked the photos up to go through them and I couldn't help smiling. They were photos of us at different points in our lives.

Isioma liked to capture precious memories of us on her mother's camera. She said it was better than a phone because she preferred to feel the photos. I flipped through them; photos that dated back to when we were in primary five which was where we meant and where we solidified our friendship. Then, there were photos photos from our junior secondary school. Graduation pics. Picnic pics and then the most recent one; SS1 end of the year party.

In the photograph, I had worn my pink A-line dress with a flat shoe and I had my hair braided in a box-braid style while Isioma had worn her floral dress with heels and she had opted for a more natural hair as she had her short hair in a small afro and a black hair band holding it back.

I remember the day like it was yesterday; I had planned to skip the whole thing until Isioma barged in convincing me to come along and I remember we spent the entire party; sipping sprite, eating cakes, taking turns to dance with David, cheering Ruth on as she won the Dance Queen of the year and ogling at Isaac as he spent the entire evening by Inioluwa's side.

I returned the photographs back and skimmed through the box with my eyes; Bracelets. Photos of different foreign countries and a separate photo wrap reserved for pictures of her Korean crush.

Then, a book.

I opened the first page of the book and it said My Diary. The book seemed strange. Isioma was never the writing type. Writing was something she detested. She never saw what other saw in crafting a story, so English was one of her weakest point.

I turned the pages and found it ripped out. All the pages were ripped out in a disorderly manner. Almost like she was having a battle with the pages. Like the words she wrote previously had not pleased her anymore.

There were three pages left. First; blank. Second; blank. Third; was full of words.

And, As I read, my hands trembled and I could barely hold back my tears.

Dear Diary,

  It's sad that this is how I go. But I can't. I just can't keep on living life with this thing that eats me up. I want to tell someone though. I want to tell anyone; my father, my mother or even Chisom but it's hard to tell anyone when I know their reaction would make me hurt even more than how I'm hurting right now.

Who would believe me? Ugly. Unattractive me with the PRESTIGE?
Impossible. Oil and water don't mix, right?
Birds of different feathers don't flock together, right? So, no matter how much I scream out the words in front of them all. They will always be favored and me; rebuked.

I have decided to let everything go today. To let myself go. That is my only way out.

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