The Hurt and The Healer (A Short Story) by Damore Alli

the hurt and the healer

It was well past 11:00pm that Saturday in March. I sat cross legged on the thin carpet that graced the floor of Omawumi’s room, fumbling with the keypads on my BlackBerry phone as I willed the red notification light to come on before I lost my cool. I had been in that position on the floor, curled up in fury with my knees to my chin at other times, for the past one hour since Bosun’s message came on unexpectedly earlier that evening. We had agreed that we would give ourselves space to heal, that we wouldn’t be in touch until forever, maybe. And I really had been trying. I had been trying so hard to put him out my mind, to bury my own grief and move on with life, and without the flimsiest of thoughts, he shattered the armour I had struggled to build all that time. I had taken a good one hour to reply, re- reading the message every one second with tear- filled eyes wondering why he thought to shatter my quiet at this time, and the most I could manage to send to him was a flimsy ‘WHY?’ which sadly, was the only word that could perfectly convey my deepest hurts to him at that moment.

Earlier that year, January to be precise, Bosun and I part ways. We had been having a lot of quarrels through the past years christmas and the only sane thing to do on the First of January was to go our separate ways and start the year on a new note. It was hard because we had become so used to each other, but I couldn’t stand a liar for any reason, and he couldn’t stand my volatile emotional outbursts any longer.

His exact words had been something like this, very fresh in my memory even now. ‘Stop being so fucking emotional all the time.’

Words hurt. They hurt even more when remembered.

I was surprised he could say that to me because tears overtook my composure while I was condemning his cheap lie of an excuse on why he missed my mum’s birthday, even though she had asked that we all be there. It was stupid and childish of him to have put our flimsy fight over my mum’s happiness. And that wasn’t his first time. That night, I had had enough. I walked out on him without looking back. The issues could remain unresolved for all I cared, because I was certain I would do my utmost to never cross paths with him ever again. And I was really trying, before the asshole sent in a text that night. Damn, he could have called, so that I would fight every nerve in my being to ignore it or ask Omawumi to lambaste him for me because she had been hoping to get a chance since that January, but he chose to send in a text. And not just a text, he had chosen those words perfectly and mashed my heart back to a pulp, somewhere below where I even picked up from that night on January First.

Omawumi walked in on my shattered state, and rushed to me, awestruck.

‘Kiloshe e?’

I sat still in silence, ignoring her company and staring hard at my phone, still waiting for the red light to come on. She grabbed the phone from me and started reading the message out loud.

“Some writer Paulo Coehlo wrote in one of his books “if it happens twice, it will happen a third time” and so here I am thinking that might just be the ‘rightest’ thing I ever read.

It’s been a while. Days actually, that feel like forever. I guess this is one of those strange things that happen to and with people. You find someone you fit almost perfectly with but life finds some way of happening.

I miss you. I know I was stupid, wrong and insensitive to have made you feel that way that day and not apologise or try to make amends, and I am sorry. I swear that I am. I miss your friendship. It’s our birth month once again, and i’m careful not to overthink how to celebrate this year’s birthday alone, seeing as we celebrated together for the past four years. So I have decided to take this time out to rant, maybe truthfully for the very first time since that day.

I was wrong. I am sorry. Mum is more important than all of that shit that must have come between us, and I was such an asshole to have not realised that. I know I make mistakes, I know this is not the first time but I love you. Damn my heart, but I do. I can’t imagine living without you for longer than this. These past days been hell.

Please forgive me, and let’s get back with the Magic that used to be us.”

‘Is this it eh? Is this the reason why you’re crying like a one year old? I thought you said it was over between you and that retard?!… answer me na ‘Mobola!’

I was too angry, sad, and confused to answer her.

‘I should even call the nonentity now and give him the piece of my mind I been saving all these days for your silly sake.’ She threw my phone at me and made to stand up. Before she could, I pulled her back to the ground.

‘What na? Let me tell that fool off. He dissed your family, not once, not twice and…’

‘Oma, I still love him.’

‘What?! After that Abuja incident and what happened last year?’

‘Damn my heart, but I do.’

‘Yes you had better damn that heart because I will not let you hurt over him a third time!’

Just as soon as she stood up to make that call, my phone rang. And before she could turn back to stall the call, I picked it.

‘Hello!…’ it was him.

_

Kiloshe e- what happened to you?

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