Revolt

25. The Inadequacy Quotient

“Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” – James Baldwin.

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The atmosphere was more than refreshing.

It hummed with the soft buzz of conversation—the voices overlapping over one another pleasantly, as if they were melodies being strung together on a guitar. The soft cool breeze that whooshed around the facility, glided over their skins—providing a soothing sensation, like the steady hands of a lover, massaging one’s skin thoroughly. The sun wasn’t scorching hot, yet it brightened up the large expanse of the beach adequately as if it were a ginormous, filament coated circular chandelier hovering in the clouds.

All these and more, was instrumental in putting Anjola in a wholly good mood that she hadn’t been in a while. She had been moseying through a dark path, from one tragedy checkpoint to another, and so it was revitalizing to arrive at a juncture that was illuminated with lights, and although she wasn’t quite sure if there was more sorrow ahead or if she had finally trumped it all, whichever it was—she figured she’d slow down and relish the moment, before progressing in her sojourn.

As she had planned with Tiolu, they were throwing a picnic at the Badagry beach. She thought it’d be quite the chore in convincing people to attend, but virtually everyone had hopped on board—jubilant about the fact that they were considered, as if it were some decorous, corporate event hosting esteemed, venerated dignitaries and principalities. The truth was that she had invited practically every young adult that she knew, since she didn’t exactly know a lot of people and wanted to prevent the dent, a low populace, would indent on the collective vigor.

And so she had invited them all. Even people she weren’t close enough to call acquaintances—Temi—and persons blacklisted for causing her great pain—Lekan. An hour had lapsed since the last arrival, so it was safe to assume at this point that Lekan wasn’t going to be gracing the occasion with his presence. She had mixed feelings about that. A bit relieved, so she didn’t have to face him and relive the heart wrenching pain his infidelity had dealt her but also disappointed, because enemy or not—Lekan was great company, and a spark that was needed in gatherings like the current one.

“You do know that the host of any social event, is supposed to stay around and make herself available right?” Adaure’s high-pitched voice was louder than usual due to their deserted surroundings. She knew it was only a matter of time, before someone left the group ahead to come meet her at the vehicles, where she leaned over the boot of Tiolu’s Mercedes and watched the proceedings with satisfaction. Her friend was wearing a long sleeved t-shirt that had a Sassy text scrawled on it in a cursive watermark, with ripped jeans and low heeled ankle boots.

Stopping in her front, Adaure folded her arms and pouted in a cautioning manner. “As a Yoruba person, your tribe is acclaimed for throwing the most kick-ass parties, so I kinda expected more from you. How can you separate yourself from the action? You’re supposed to go about and engage everyone. And I’m not saying this just to hassle you, but if you don’t do this then some people won’t feel like you invited them, because you wanted to, when they see you socializing with a select set of people.”

“Oh, please stop acting like most people are here because they love Anjola so much, and not because they know there would be free food here.” Anjola rolled her eyes, and kicked a lump of sand into the air gently, so it didn’t spiral into her friend’s face and blind her. “Ehize who is my own OG, said that with his own mouth. Now imagine the rest that I’m not my guys like that.”

“You know better than to take anything that comes out of that guy’s mouth seriously,” Adaure said, before reaching out for both of her hands and tugging hard, until she had pulled her off the car. “C’mon, let’s go back. What’s your problem? Is anything wrong?”