Can we try again?

Twenty-six

We marched on for about 10 minutes without uttering a word to each other. The thick, black clouds were moving in. It was only a matter of time before they emptied themselves.

"Hey. Are you okay?" Oma broke the silence.

I didn't respond. I felt her eyes on me, but mine were fixated ahead.

"Sami? Talk to me." She moved the carrier bag she was holding from her right hand to her left and touched my shoulder. I shrugged it off.

"Maybe I should have gotten rid of it." I uttered without looking at her.

Ijeoma scoffed. "You're not serious at all. What are you talking about?"

"I am serious. I should have gotten rid of it. No one would have known and I wouldn't have to face such humiliation." A tear drop rolled down my cheek and I wiped it angrily.

Oma inhaled deeply. "Come on, I know you don't really mean this. You're just . . ."

"Don't tell me what I mean and don't mean." I snapped, my voice slightly raised than I intended. I carried on anyway. "You think you know everything, but guess what, you don't."

Oma's eyes were wide with shock at my sudden outburst.

I didn't care, I carried on. "If it wasn't for you, I would have gotten rid of it. And then my life would have been back to normal. All you do is talk, but you have no idea whatsoever how it feels, do you?"

"I'm . . . I'm sorry you feel that way," her voice was so small that I barely heard her.

As soon as we got home, Oma took the bags of foodstuff to the kitchen. I heard her say something to Aisha but I didn't know what it was. I went straight into my room without saying a word. I got on my bed and curled myself into a ball as far as my bulged out tummy could let me. And I sobbed.

The skies had opened up now, and rain was pouring down heavily. I could hear the sound of the large droplets rain battering on the roof like bullets.   

I couldn't stop thinking of the mockery those girls made of me. I've become a laughing stock amongst my peers. I mean, I knew it was going on, but hearing it from the main source, made it more real. And boy does it hurt.

Oma came to my defence, as the best friend that she is. And how did I thank her?

Oh no. What have I done? What on earth is wrong with me? It's like I can't keep my emotions in check. One minute I'm confessing my love for my baby and the next I'm regretting my decision on keeping it. Then I end up insulting my best friend who'd just defended me.

Regret washed over me. Why on earth did I say those words to her? She must totally hate me now. I sobbed even more, rocking back and forth. I cannot afford to lose Oma now. NOt now. Not ever. She's my rock and I don't think I would cope without her. I have to apologise.

The moment I stood up, my door swung open wide.

"I'm sorry Oma," I blurted out. "I didn't mean any of those things I said . . . I just . . .I don't . . .I'm sorry," I sobbed loudly like a child. 

She stepped towards me and pulled me into her arms. I stayed there for God knows how long and she simply just rubbed my back, while I let it all out.

"It's okay." Oma said softly.

I looked up to her and said, "Am I forgiven?"

"For now, yeah you are. But be sure that I'll make you pay for it later."

I giggled slightly and with a huff and sat on the bed. Oma sat beside me. She nudged me slightly with her shoulder. "For goodness sakes, What is wrong this time?"