Can we try again?

Thirty- eight

Ijeoma

The sound of my phone made me roll to the other side of my bed. I picked it up and checked the caller ID. With a deep sigh, I put it back down on the floor where it'd been charging and turned my head away.

The phone rang again, but I ignored it. I wasn't in the mood to talk. I wasn't in the mood to do anything. I just wanted to lay in bed and sob, like I'd been doing so far.

I'll call back later.

But right now is not the time. I couldn't even bring myself to engage in a conversation even if I tried.

It's all his fault. Buchi. I hate him. Oh who am I kidding, I still love him.

The thought of him in the arms of another woman, made my stomach churn in anger and disdain. It made me feel sick. And for the umpteenth time, fresh, hot tears slid down onto my pillow.

Why would he do this? Why would he betray me? I thought he was the one for me. My soulmate.

My phone rang again and this time I didn't bother to look at it.

I shuffled into the foetal position and pulled my blanket over my head. It rang again.
Leave me alone let me dwell in my despair.
Let me mourn the loss of my happiness.

After about a minute or two, I heard a beep.

A text message.

Reluctantly, with a loud groan, I stretched out for my phone and picked it up. I read the message.

And immediately, I shot straight up from the bed, as though I'd been electrocuted.

"What?" I exclaimed to no one but myself. Fear, panic, dread, you name it, shot through my body and propelled me forward, out of the bed.

With shaky hands, and wobbly legs I managed to find my purse. My heart pumped loudly in my chest as I scurried around the house, grabbed the house keys and dashed out. I had no makeup on, my hair was not combed, and my eyes were red and puffy from crying all night and day. I looked like a hot mess.

But I didn't care.

God, I beg you. Let nothing happen to them. Please.

I prayed as I hopped onto the first bike that I came across. I normally wouldn't commute on bikes, but they are the only ones who could filter through traffic easily and right now it was what I needed to get me to my destination quicker.

All my worries about my heartbreak and Buchi were suddenly dispersed from my mind. All I could think of was my friend. My godson.

Mira. Jameel.

Oma pls help. Somethng is wrong with me. I can't breathe. I feel weak likr I'm dying. I cant stad up. I cn hear Jameel cryin upstairs, but I cant get 2 him. No 1 is home Pls come

That was the text I got.

That's why she was calling non stop. She needed my help and I foolishly ignored her, lamenting over Buchi. Guilt niggled at my insides. I should have answered the phone from the very first ring. I should have. What if I get there too late? What if something catastrophic happened before I got there? I'd never forgive myself.

I willed the bike man to ride faster, even though I knew he couldn't go any faster than he was going. I tried Mira's number for the third time, but she wasn't answering. That wasn't a good sign.