CHAPTER TEN “WHEN WRONG IS LOUD!”

© Opeyemi Akintunde
As Inspired by the Creative Word

Two thoughts went through my head at the same time.

Drop it and run.

Or behave like it was nothing and walk away.

My hand was still holding the parcel, but my mind had started running faster than my legs could ever run.

What if someone had seen me?

What if police came?

What if this was a setup?

What if Mark was right?

Then Sikemi’s face flashed before me.

That pathetic, weak, curled-up version of her I had seen in the living room.

She needed this pill.

She needed me.

And just like that, my saviour complex took over.

I stopped thinking.

I opened my bag, pushed the parcel inside, zipped it up, and walked away from the scene like there was nothing special about what had just happened.

But my legs knew the truth.

They were shaking.

My neck knew the truth too because every few seconds, I looked over my shoulder.

Left.

Right.

Behind me.

In front of me.

I suddenly became aware of everybody on the road. The woman selling roasted corn. The man sitting beside his wheelbarrow. The conductor shouting for passengers. The two boys laughing by the gutter. Even the old man who was only adjusting his cap looked like he knew what was inside my bag.

My heart was beating in my mouth.

Then I saw a police van coming towards me.

I froze.

Then I quickly bent down to tie the lace of my shoe that did not need to be tied.

The van drove past without stopping.

Whew!

By the time I got back to the Alabis’ street, I had already died several times in my imagination.

I entered the compound and walked towards the house, trying to arrange my face into anger before fear disgraced me.

When I got into the living room, Martins looked up.

I dropped my bag carefully, as if the parcel inside could explode.

“You sent me to get drugs,” I said, trying to sound angry. “Oh guy…”

My voice did not come out as strong as I wanted.

It sounded like anger that had fear as its senior brother.

Sikemi rushed for the package like her life depended on it.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened it. She took out one pill and swallowed it quickly, as if she had been waiting for it longer than her body could handle.

Martins helped himself too.

Then he stretched the package towards me.

“Pastor Matthew, try one,” he said with a lazy smile.

“God forbid,” I said immediately.

It came out before I could package it.

Martins laughed.

I did not wait to hear whatever joke he wanted to add. I walked straight into the kitchen and got busy with cleaning.

I needed to calm my nerves.

I needed to centre myself.

I needed to ask God for forgiveness.

My hands were still shaking, so I gave them work to do. I picked up plates. I rinsed cups. I wiped the counter. I washed the sink like the sink had offended my ancestors.

Anything to keep my mind from thinking too deeply about what I had just done.

I had carried something I should never have carried.

I had helped someone get something I should never have helped anyone get.

I had ignored every warning inside me because I wanted to be important to a girl who made me feel seen.

“Lord, I’m sorry,” I whispered under my breath. “Maybe I should have listened to Mark.”

I was still wiping the counter when I heard her voice behind me.

“Thank you.”

It was the sweetest voice I had ever heard.

I turned slowly.

Sikemi was standing by the kitchen entrance, looking better than she had looked when I first arrived. Her eyes were softer now. Her face had regained some colour. She looked fragile and beautiful at the same time, and that combination was dangerous for a boy like me.

“Thank you,” she said again. “For saving me.”

“Saving you or destroying you?” I blurted out.

She blinked.

Even I was surprised at myself.

But the words had already come out, so I continued.

“From what I know about drugs, they don’t save people. They destroy them. They affect the brain. They can change your mood, your memory, your sleep, your concentration, your decision-making, even your ability to control yourself.”

I dropped the rag in my hand.

“In my school, I once did a presentation on substance abuse. Drugs can make people dependent, like what happened to you this morning. They can damage organs. They can cause anxiety, depression, hallucinations, aggression, poor academic performance, damaged relationships, risky behaviour, and in some cases, overdose or death.”

I swallowed.

“So I don’t know if I saved you.”

Sikemi looked amused.

Not convicted.

Not afraid.

Amused.

“You are quite the nerd,” she said.

She walked closer to me.

My composure began to fly out of the window one by one.

I wanted to cry for my mummy to come and save me.

I wanted some supernatural force to carry me away from that kitchen.

I wanted Mark to appear from nowhere and shout my name the way he did the day before.

But Mark was not there.

Mummy was not there.

And my legs, again, were acting like they had resigned from active service.

Sikemi kept coming closer.

“I love practical more than theory,” she said softly. “Why don’t you try it and tell me if all that grammar is true?”

My heart jumped.

“Sikemi, no,” I said quickly.

But before I could shout, “Jesus is Lord,” she closed the remaining distance between us and kissed me.

My first reaction was stiffness.

Total stiffness.

Then Joseph came to my mind.

Joseph fled from Potiphar’s wife.

Joseph ran.

Joseph did not stay to negotiate.

But nobody had prepared me for the confusion of that moment.

The softness of Sikemi’s lips made my reasoning weak for a second, and that frightened me.

Then a scripture flashed through my mind.

“For the lips of a strange woman drip honey, and her speech is smoother than oil; but in the end she is bitter as gall, sharp as a double-edged sword.”

Nobody had told me that temptation could come with pity, pressure, beauty, fear, softness, and shock all mixed together.

For one second, I forgot my mother’s training.

But by the next second, all the messages, all the Bible verses, all the warnings about purity began to flash through my mind.

‘Flee youthful lusts.’

‘Can a man take fire in his bosom and not be burned?’

‘Don’t let Sikemi mess you up.’

I wanted to pull away.

I should have pulled away.

But another thought held me back.

Pity.

I did not want her to feel rejected.

I did not want to hurt her.

I did not want her to think I saw her as damaged or disgusting.

That pity became another chain around my legs.

While I was still battling the storm inside me, I felt one of her fingers come close to my mouth.

Before I understood what was happening, she slipped a pill into my mouth.

Panic exploded inside me.

I tried to pull back.

I tried to spit it out.

But she held me there, forcing me to swallow.

I fought it.

But she was stronger than I expected.

And in that moment, Mark’s words became clear.

Too clear.

‘Sometimes, it is not only about what you will do or not do. It is also about what people will do or not do to you.’

In that moment, I understood something.

When you hang around the wrong group of people, it is not enough to have standards. It is not enough to know what you think you will never do. Sometimes, you have to exit such relationships completely because the wrong people can do things to you, or make you do things, that you never planned to do.

My throat moved.

The pill went down.

And fear entered my body like cold water.

To be continued…

DEEP THOUGHTS NOVELS
Written by Opeyemi Akintunde
As Inspired by the Creative Word

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