Death of a Friendship
A short story
Someone once asked me, ‘How do you sustain meaningful relationships?’
I shrugged and replied: ‘Remember to read the room.’
I could tell that he was confused by that answer, so I tried to explain further with fewer words.
I said: ‘Support first, advice last.’
I could sense his disagreement because everyone thinks friends should always tell each other the harsh truth but you have to remember to be empathetic as well.
‘Yeah right! Let me know how that works out.’, He said.
I smile and remember Bidemi.
I remember the first time that I met Bidemi.
I had been on the road for several hours, and I was exhausted. It was my first time in Jigawa, and I was tightly fit into an 8-sitter bus with nine other people. All of us strangers, heading in the same direction — to a camp that would be home for the next three weeks.
I was determined to keep my head down and my eyes open. I was not feeling optimistic about the next three weeks.
Bidemi was the first person that I met when I finally got to my room. Her bunk was right beside mine, and she was still unpacking. The moment that we met, our kindred spirits recognized one other.
We talked about everything, starting with the situation that brought us both to camp. Soon, we talked boys, dresses, music, and movies until we could finally agree that the only thing we had in common was that we both liked Korean dramas.
We spent the next three weeks exploring camps, skipping events, and acting in the drama club.
Of all the friends I made at that time, ours was the only friendship that remained after camp. After all that time, I concluded that she looked at the world through rose-tinted glasses, and she felt that I was a bit too realistic.
I think our relationship works because even if we are on opposite ends of the spectrum, we were willing to give into each other from time to time.
We chose the same day to report to our commander weekly after the camp experience, which meant we could hang out weekly. There was a nearby mall and restaurants close by that we would explore together.
We were (for lack of a better word) inseparable.
One time, we noticed someone behind us in the headquarters, where we reported to the commander. She was laughing at something she overheard me say, and I thought she must be interesting too.
‘Hi, I’m Seye, and this is Bidemi’ I said,
‘Hi, I’m Amarachi, and you can call me Ama,’ she said.
Maybe, that was the beginning of the end. I guess Bidemi started feeling left out. But I was so excited to find someone who instantly understood the movie jokes that I didn’t care. We still did many things together, so I didn’t think there was a problem. She would get jealous if she heard that we did anything without her, and I would say that I didn’t think she knows to be interested.
Looking back, I don’t blame her.
She confronted me one day when she discovered that I rushed over to Ama’s house because she had a panic attack, and I ended up staying over.
Even if I didn’t know the big deal, I could tell she was outraged over to her house to make amends.
There she confided in me that she had recently started dating someone.
I felt so guilty that I didn’t even notice that I was somewhat happy for her.
She had on that stupid look girls have when they fall in love.
I was officially intrigued.
She mentioned that they met six weeks ago at work. He was an accountant, and he offered to help her by giving her a sum every week from her bank account to manage her spending.
In summary, he will be in control of her bank details.
Alarm bells went off in my head, but she just kept going.
She said that he was thoughtful and sweet to help her when she struggled to manage her money.
I sighed and said: ‘Are you stupid? He is trying to steal from you.’
She was so upset. She said that I am so negative and that I’m jealous that she has someone.
Finally, she said that I should get out of her house.
I left.
Sometimes I wish I had kept my mouth shut; maybe then we would still be friends.
Shortly after, I decided to relocate to pursue my Ph.D. in Mathematics, and we never spoke again.
Story written with comfort eboigbe
