Page 12 of A Chance For Love


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  The drive, quieter than I had expected, gave me an inner peace I hadn't experienced for eons. It felt great to enjoy the company of people who wished me no harm; people who sought nothing but my best interests. Stella and the cops didn't blast me with tons of bothersome questions like I'd feared. Once or twice, they brought up random topics like the weather and the deteriorating Nigerian economy.

  Every so often, I would cast Stella a side glance. I had a confession to make. How would she feel when I told her I let the whole world see a part of me that didn't exist? Would she find me crazy, or would she understand I did this for my family?

  I watched her slow down as we neared a junction. She glanced at her friends from the rear-view mirror. "You can take a cab from here, right?"

  "Yes," Evans said. "Thanks for the ride."

  "No, thanks guys. Really, I'm the one who should be thankful." Pulling over, she turned to face them. "Really, guys, thanks. You've been much help today."

  "It's nothing," Evans said.

  "Can you do one more thing though?" she asked.

  "Yeah, just name it," Evans said. Charles shifted in his seat. But I didn't hear his voice. I wouldn't say he fancied the idea of another assignment.

  "Just forward this document to the court and have them stamp it." Stella presented the signed document to Evans. "After that, you are to make two photocopies. I'll pick them up tomorrow evening. Think it can be ready by then?"

  "Yeah, why not?"

  Stella beamed. "Thanks. You're a darling."

  Stepping out of the car, Evans and his partner waved us goodbye. I waved back and watched them cross to the other side of the road. When I looked back at Stella, it stunned me to see that she made no move to start the engine. Arms crossed, she leaned back in her seat and stared at me.

  "What?" I asked, unable to contain my curiosity. Did I have something on my face? I gazed at my reflection in the side mirror. So far, so good, I looked normal. No horns or fangs. Nothing out of place.

  "Are you ready to talk now?" she asked.

  "Talk?" I echoed.

  "Yes, talk. Now, don't act funny. I've been watching you. You've been restless. Listen, I have an idea in psychology, so I know when a person is dying to say something, okay? Now that we're finally alone, let's hear it."

  I could really use a listening ear. Besides, it couldn't be that bad. I had already told her the bigger things. Why then should I hide this seemingly trivial one?

  "What I'm about to tell you is a secret that no one else knows," I said.

  Stella nodded. She waited for me to begin, but I said nothing. I didn't know where to begin. I just stared out through the window, training my eyes on every pedestrian. Stella's undivided attention told me to take my time, to speak at my own pace. But we didn't have all day.

  "What do you see when you look at me? Do you see a strong girl? Or a weak one?" My question wouldn't make much sense to her. Even to me. But at least I'd given our conversation a head.

  "What does this have to do with-?"

  "Just answer," I cut in. "Please."

  "Brutally honest?" she asked.

  "Yeah, that would be really appreciated. Just tell me what you think of me." Comforting myself with the knowledge that whatever she thought of me snaked around the false image I let the world see, I braced myself for what she would say.

  "I'd be a blatant liar if I called you a strong girl," she said. "A strong person would not drink in all the abuses at school and at home. No, she would fight for what is hers. She would always speak up for herself, let her voice be heard. I wouldn't tag you as weak either. A weak girl would not hold on to her priority the way you do. Through thick and thin, you make your family your number one priority."

  "What you see is not what I am. And what you don't see is what I am," I said. "I mentioned that Cynthia saw everything as a competition. In a desperation to change her wrong line of reasoning, I changed me."

  "What do you mean?" Stella asked.

  Like water prepares the ground for cultivation, with a well-thought question I would prepare Stella's mind for my confession. "Would you perceive threats of a competition if you and your potential rival stood at extreme ends? If you were superior, and she inferior?"

  Stella thought for a moment. "No, I guess not."

  "I thought so too," I said. "I thought by constantly placing myself as inferior, she would forget the silliness of a competition and love would find its way into her heart. I gave up on everything I ever was."

  "I still don't get it." The look on her face confirmed that I had twisted her brain into knots.

  "Cynthia wanted to be the outspoken one," I explained. "The one who would utter just one word and the world would hail her smartness, her wisdom. I let her be the smart one. I transformed myself into the dull one, the seemingly shy one who could never say anything impressive. She wanted to be the brave one. I let her. I became the coward. The stupid one. She wanted to be one of the popular girls in school. I let her. I let myself sink into oblivion. I mastered the art of invisibility, leaving behind the social child I once was. My interest in soccer led me to join our school football club, and I excelled as a great player. It made me forget my problems. I could finally be myself, in a place she was not."

  "I thought I saw her in the game against Emerald Comprehensive High," Stella said. As the school nurse she attended every game to render her services when injuries occurred. I remembered her carrying me out of the field while I writhed on the stretcher in a pain inflicted by my sister.

  "She joined last year," I said. "She obviously wanted to show me that whatever I can do, she can do better. She wanted to be the best in our team. And I let her. While she scored beautiful goals, I would create beautiful goal opportunities, only to ruin them on purpose."

  The knowing look on Stella's face told me she remembered every goal I had missed. Our game with Emerald Comprehensive High no doubt remained fresh in her memory. Too busy pursuing a chance to score, I'd lost sight of my priority: my relationship with Cynthia. At the last moment, though, I'd thought about how she would react to my goal. She would hate me even more for being the hero. I didn't want that. And so I'd wasted Western High's final chance at victory.

  "It would be just you and the keeper and you would let the chance slip," Stella said. "It always amazed me how a very brilliant girl in class could be so miscalculating on the field. It just didn't make sense."

  A thought occurred to her. "Talking about your brilliance in class, you didn't sacrifice that, did you? Because if you did, you wouldn't have won the scholarship."

  My silence. The pained look in my eyes. Stella calculated. "Don't tell me sacrificed that too!"

  Again, I said nothing.

  "Okay, fine. Go on with your story."

  "Actually, I had also sacrificed my educational performance," I said.

  "What?" Stella's shrill pierced through the closed windows. Alarmed, passersby stared at us till they walked past.

  "What was I to do?" My voice flared defensively, matching hers. "She wanted to be the intelligent one. And I let her. I forced myself to lag a great distance behind her. I just couldn't help it. She would come home, showing off her straight A grades and few Bs. And I would go lock myself in my room, crying over my disgusting end-of-year evaluations. I mostly had Ds. Only once in a while did I let myself soar to a C."

  "You would fail exams on purpose?" Stella asked.

  "Not exactly fail," I corrected. "I would write just good enough to be promoted to the next class, but bad enough to make Cynthia feel secure that there was no competition because she's by far superior in all things. But although I presented myself as lacking in all departments, father loved me regardless. He would always tell me to try hard. He would always tell me the sky is my limit and if I tried hard enough, I would rekindle my old flame. It was during the scholarship exam period I realized that if I was to keep my education, I had to unleash the brainiac in me."

  "Why would you hide who you ar
e?" Stella's question hit close to home, but I held back from taking offense. Had I not already told her everything I did, I did to hold my family together?

  "This makes no sense," she said. "Your self-sacrificing spirit is ridiculous. Life isn't meant to be this hard for anyone. What were you thinking, coming up with a plan as ridiculous as this? And to think that you've been at it all your life. What on earth were you thinking?"

  "I wasn't thinking," I said. "I just wanted to kill the competitive spirit growing inside her is all. I wanted us to be family. I still do."

  Stella regarded me with a sorry look as she watched me dab my teary eyes with my fingers. "And did it work? Everything you did, and still do, is all for nothing. They don't hate you any less, for God's sake! Stop this insanity."

  I had been right to assume she would find me crazy. "It could have been worse."

  "Victoria, this is far too extreme! You should never have done this! You paint yourself as the weak one, when in reality you are not."

  "I have to be the weak one. Don't you get it? I'm afraid of letting them see the real me. They will double their efforts to break me! This will break our family more than it already is. I don't want that."

  She could never understand me. Telling her had been a terrible move.

  "If you plan to spend the rest of your life under this pretense," she said. "Then telling me was a big mistake. I'm sorry, but I can't watch you waste away like this. I can't hold back from interfering."

  I opened my mouth to speak, but she held out her hand, silencing me. "I'm sure you knew I would interfere, but you told me anyway. You know why? It's because you want me to interfere, but you don't realize it yet, or you're too scared to admit it."

  Starting the engine, she joined the main road, leaving me to weigh the consequences of my big mouth. She would definitely do something to bring me out of hiding. And I certainly would not enjoy this one bit.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Voice

  "The same person who sees our nation as inferior has come running to us for safety, something his infamous nation couldn't give him."