Twisted

12: Memory Lane II

Zayyad

I shut the bathroom door behind me.

Head, pounding. Feelings, threatening to burst all over the place. Blood itching for calm as I bring out a small ziplock bag from the pocket of my knicker, the white substance trapped in the plastic bag is calling for me to line it up somewhere on the sink's counter and breathe it in.

I do as my brain directs. I go to the sink and as I move to unlock the bag to start lining up the substance, my eyes catch my reflection in the six-by-six mirror and as I hold the gaze of the man in the mirror, I notice the gloom in my eyes and it's as if I have misery trapped inside.

The same misery I was soaked in two years ago:

Three days after we returned from England, we'd linked up for a double date dinner with Seun and his girlfriend who thought we went to London for a 'vacation'. Honoring his invitation was a little uneasy because he was a doctor and we didn't want Beverly displaying signs of pregnancy but the good thing was she wasn't 'showing' yet and it amazed me how every woman's pregnancy journey differed from one another, I mean she was past three months and one couldn't tell she was carrying a baby. Or, so I thought.

Every day, after I found out about the pregnancy, I made sure everything was perfect with and for her. Whatever she craved or said was done immediately. It was like she had me under a spell and I enjoyed it.

All that clouded my head was how the baby would be nurtured, where it'll be born, who it'd look like when it'd arrive... I'd soaked myself in the affairs of this unborn child because it was like a sanctuary from my father who was pulling my assets, piece after piece, stake after stake because I had refused to show up for the arranged marriage and they had had to postpone countless times.

As much as his actions took a toll on me, all I cared about was to keep the marriage bullshit away from Beverly because the last time I lost her to something like that, I know how much emotional hell I went through. Money couldn't save nor could it buy the feeling she gave me, so I was ready to go against the entire family just to keep this woman.

She was drug, and I did overdose, oh, I overdosed blindly.

On that Thursday, after returning home from dinner, she had gone to the bathroom to pee or whatever whilst I was in the kitchen making her a cup of green tea she was randomly craving.

I remember her phone ringing in the purse which she had flung on the couch in her rush to the bathroom.

Whoever was calling had called so many times the ringtone started to irritate my ears, I abandoned my quest in the kitchen and made my way to the living room to retrieve the phone and take it to her in the bathroom...

...but the moment I held it in my hand, a notification popped up and it caught my eye: 'Are you sticking to the miscarriage story?'

My head spun for a moment.

I had looked away but another one popped up: 'I think the miscarriage story is fine, he'll buy it. It's perfect for less judgment'...and it was at that moment it clicked. This was about me.

I stopped in my tracks, unlocked the phone, flew straight to WhatsApp, and began reading the texts between herself and this person. With each text my eyes ransacked, my head got lighter and the urge to vomit worsened.

I had been heavily immersed in the moment, blacking out my environment I didn't notice her descend the stairs. "What are you doing with my phone?" Her voice pulled me back to reality.

I felt nothing as I watched her gaze shift from my face to the phone in my hand, and from the phone in my hand to my face. Her body language betrayed her and the panic in her orbs was evident.