There’s this type of silence that accompanies betrayal. No, it doesn’t scream, it just simmers like a pot of soup after a boil.
I actually met Divine during my second week at the Rivers State University. She had this box braids that reached down to her waist, carried a tote bag that read “Soft girls don’t chase” and spoke like she had seen life in black and white; no vibrancy. Somehow, our energies merged. Me, Dinma, a bubbly queen, so open, the kind of girl who said “hi” to strangers and remembered birthdays; and Divine on the other hand, so quiet, looking skeptical, and very selective with her words. The direct opposites, I guess.
Everything was working at first. I helped her out with a Math 101 test; she saved me from embarrassing myself in public when my annoying lace wig nearly flew off during the Harmattan. We took so many long walks around campus in the evenings with our laughter so loud and contagious to everyone who heard it. I thought we were close. Like real close.
But every time I tried to do an introduction about her to course mates I knew, hostel neighbors, even my cousin Faith, she would freeze or tighten up. There was this one time, after we had a departmental event where I knew nearly everyone by name, she scoffed and said, “You always want to be seen, sha.”
I legit laughed it off. “You say it like it’s a crime to have people like you.”
She didn’t actually smile back, which was kind of creepy at the time. “Too many people knowing your gist is dangerous.” She said
Still, I didn’t think much of it. I just concluded that she was just a low-key girl who didn’t fancy noise. Not until the day everything spilled out.
It all started with Faith. She and I had a small disagreement about me borrowing her AirPods without asking. Honestly, it wasn’t that deep, but I think that day, Faith was tired, hormonal and her mood swings were everywhere, so it blew up into something else; a shouting match. Divine was just there, watching; as if she was waiting for something bad to happen.
Faith finally exploded, “No wonder Divine said you always want to act like a saint when you’re actually very manipulative. That you think you're better than everyone because people like you!”
I froze.
“What did you say?”
With folded arms, Faith replied. “You heard me.”
I cast an astonished look at Divine, who suddenly found her nail polish more interesting than the situation she had silently orchestrated.
“Divine, tell me you didn’t say that?” I asked her directly, wishing she would say I’m mistaken.
She didn’t deny it. “I mean... it’s not like it’s a lie.”
There it was. The green snake amongst the grasses. The sourness behind the friendship.
Everything began to finally make sense; the subtle jabs, the eyes she rolled when I talked to new people including the frequent narrative she gave that I was “too much.”
It wasn’t that she hated attention so much. She hated that I did not find it difficult to have it.
That night, I laid on my bed and I had put my phone on Do-Not-Disturb. I was avoiding replying to messages. A part of me wanted to just scream at her; like send her a voice note soaked in rage. But there was another part of me that had grown up watching people reveal their true self in the worst moments. That part of me just felt... sad.
The next day in school, on my way to class, I saw her standing under the cashew tree behind Social Sciences scrolling through her phone. She was laughing with two ladies from our faculty and without thinking twice, I nodded once and walked past her like a ghost.
***Later that week, she send a text:
“We should talk.”***
I left it on read. Because how was that ever going to be even possible. In my locality, we say: “that ship don sail abeg.”(That phase has passed, Please)
Because you see, there is this thing about sour grapes; they always taste bitter and it’s not because they truly are, because obviously they aren’t bitter but it’s because someone couldn’t reach them. And instead of opening up to say “I want that too,” they turn the narrative upside down just so they can call the grape a fraud and also accuse it of pretending to be sweet.
But I’m not a grape. I’m a whole vine. And you know what? Vines grow back stronger when you cut off the rotten part.
The resultant effect of that event was that I stopped letting people get so close just because they stood near. Now, I just watch more, trust slower, but laugh just as loud. Not because I am guarding myself, but because I indeed learned the difference between shade and shelter.
