disclaimer: it is purely fiction. it is the continuation of The Second Parabble
I prayed and fasted with the hopes of washing the dream away. I prayed in hushed tones, and sometimes I screamed at the top of my voice, commanding each element of the Earth to work in my favour. Still, I was made to watch tragedy slowly settle into our lives.
It began with mother’s fever. Like every other fever she had, it made her bedridden, permitting only watery pap to go into her stomach. She’d stay awake even with her burning headache, and I stayed by her bedside, monitoring her every move, satisfying her every need. Once, she needed to use the toilet. In my innocence, I assumed she couldn’t be weak enough not to do that on her own. A few minutes after she managed to stagger to the toilet, I heard my sister scream my name. Alas, my mother had fainted on the toilet seat. In our panic, we rushed her to the nearest hospital. Hours went by, and all we had to ourselves was hope that someone would come to address us in her state. All we were assured of was her stability.
We discovered it was malaria. But what sort of malaria parasite could have bitten mother up to the extent that she visited her ancestors?
Two weeks after the incident, my sister had an encounter with a priestess on her way from work. The woman, as she had described, was dressed in white, adorned with cowries and holding what resembled an elephant tusk. She warned my sister, pleading with her to be careful regarding her movements and decisions, and told her to always do what was right and safe. I displayed nonchalance by making fun of the priestess, calling her a scammer direly in need of attention or financial support. If only I had known, I would have taken her words seriously and considered the warnings.
Time went by, and mother was healed. I felt at peace with the thought that we managed to dodge another bullet through our raised prayers. But, it wasn’t over.
In the solemnity of peace, I got pregnant. At the unfavourable age of 19.
No, it wasn’t an immaculate conception. While I might have seemed like the poise two-goody shoes that everyone assumed I was, I had my own skeletons hidden deep in my cupboard. Till, of course, they were exposed to the world. It was a teeny mistake, the mistake of getting drunk being carefree adults. My drunken lover and I were too unaware of what lay ahead, and we made passionate love to ourselves that late night after dancing in each other’s arms at the club. It was only right that we did, as we both had eyes filled with lust the whole night, practically undressing each other with every stare and kiss. It might have been an ovulatory escapade. My period tracker had failed me after forgetting to count the last time I menstruated, so I wasn’t aware of the phase my reproductive system was trapped in. In short, I was careless.
So careless that I ignored the absence of my menstrual period. You see, I make assumptions, and if I were to get paid for my assumptions, I’d own a suitable condo in Ikoyi. I assumed it was just a switch-up in my hormones, nothing to be worried about. How careless can one be? It was not until I fell ill and visited the hospital that I realised what harm I had done to myself.
The Doctor walked into the room with a stoic expression, and I knew something was wrong. When she started asking a stream of questions regarding my sexual status, I had hoped it was just a simple STD. Then she announced it. My breathing paused, and it felt like I carried the weight of her words on my ears.
PREGNANT?!
Of all things to be. Of all curses to have chosen, my fate was burdened with an unwanted pregnancy. There was no space for satire or strength for pretence to ask rhetorical questions that I knew answers to. I was careless, and now I must dance to the tune of my actions.
It took every iota of fear in me to find my way back home. My mind was puzzled with different thoughts and ideas. How would my mother react? Was I ready to bring a child into this world? Should I just end it here? Should I run away? I thought about the changes this would bring to my life. I felt like slapping myself for not thinking of these things that night. I visited the Blessed Sacrament again, and in my confusion, I couldn’t find the right words to express myself to my Creator. The only thing I could lay at His feet was guilt and quiet sobs. My guilt for being stupid, being careless. I made up my mind there and then to terminate whatever parasite growing in me, and to keep it a secret, I carried it to my grave.
Who knew the blood in the vision was going to be mine?
I had no idea my carelessness had helped to orchestrate my burial. The week after I received the news of my pregnancy, I took a journey to Abia State. I decided to do my dirty work far away from home where anyone would find out. In my stupidity, I discovered a clinic online where I could get it done at a cheap rate. It was useless to hope that any medication would help, so I went directly for an evacuation. It was the 5th of June, 2020, and I signed with a black pen an agreement to keep my mouth shut if anything went wrong. Nothing went wrong until I was profusely bleeding hours after the procedure. It was just like the vision, crimson red trickling down my thighs. I kept bleeding, and unfortunately, the hospital’s blood bank wasn’t functional. They transported me to the hospital in Umu-Obasi. My eyes fluttered as the commotion around me increased. The nurses were asking about the history of my condition, and the Doctor from the private clinic managed to smoothly tell them a believable lie. I never got to ask what the lie was, as I spent my final hours acquainting myself with the utopia I hoped for.
The vision had come to pass. Life will continue for the rest I have left behind.