Scars (Romola 2)

99: Scars

He held her arm. "When he died, I dropped out of a lot of things; school, clubs, church. Anything that reminded me of my brother. I wanted nothing to do with it. And it was hard because we had both lived in the same house. 

"The only way I felt I could make it up to him was to keep his grief front and centre of everything. I was not allowed to smile, or think happy thoughts or even let my mind wander too far from the person I thought I killed. I didn't want to see my friends, or my sister or parents. I stopped eating or drinking but never felt like I could give up enough because there would always still be something I could do that my brother couldn't.

"Thank God for Dami. I pushed all my friends away, insulting them and hurting them if they dared to come too close but Dami was stubborn and refused to stay away. He was the one who noticed me drowning in the pool and called my parents."

Romola's eyes widened and shocked filled her face. She spoke in a low tone. "Don't tell me you—"

"I couldn't exchange my life for my brother's. Neither could I give up everything because I couldn't stop myself from breathing or thinking. All I know is, I had an argument with my parents about my nonchalant attitude towards anything and I decided to leave the house and meet Dami at a pool. I got to the pool and saw my friends smiling. I thought I was doing it all wrong. I changed my mind. Someone pushed me into the pool playfully to stop me from leaving. My waist hit the side of the pool and I fell in head first. They thought it was a joke."

Romola sat up with a shock. "That's why you were so mad when I pretended to drown."

He nodded. "Deep in the water, it was like I was seeing everything from outside myself. My friends, laughing. Dami panicking and me sinking and thinking that it still wasn't enough. That even if I died then, I had lived seven months extra than my brother did and that nothing would fill the gap. Not even dying. It was clear to me then that the voice in my head was my own grief. Not my brother's. Muyi wouldn't want me to die. Neither would he have wanted me to throw my life away or to be a wimp when I was pushed into the water by my friends."

"Can I see your scar?"

Veins popped on his arm and he hesitated before he pulled his shirt out of his trousers allowing her to touch the scar. He didn't tense up like last time.

"Mide, I have a scar too. But it's quite different and every time I think of it—" she swallowed the knot in her throat. "I think of Sunbo. If she hadn't helped me that night, I might have been dead by the same machete that killed her."

"Everyone has scars. Some people work hard to cover theirs. Others display it proudly and some people don't know what to do with theirs. Some have it skin deep. Others have them soul deep. But if you make it all you identify as forgetting that there are other unique, wonderful and larger parts of yourself, you'll be lost in your grief. Just... healing will come with time."

"And for the guilt?"

"The guilt never really goes away but you have to keep reminding yourself of the truth. You have to offer forgiveness to yourself first."

Olumide stared at her for a while, his honey brown eyes still searching but without pity, just admiration and deep care. She felt so warm that she would've melted into the chair if the cold thought of her imminent separation from Olumide did not hang over her head.

The ride home was silent but her mind was a mix of words and decisions because she had spent the time thinking more than she had allowed herself over the past few days of what she had allowed herself to become, how she got there and where she was going.

The closer they got to the house, the more the pressure in her had built up. He hadn't mentioned anything about them but she needed to know where they stood. The car stopped at the main street beside the back of Iya Nelson's house. Romola sat in the car, waiting.