Chapter 19
The following morning came too soon, the weight of my thoughts still pressing against me like an invisible burden. I had stayed up late, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together my next steps. The decision to potentially go back to my grandmother's house lingered in my mind like an open door, tempting me with the simplicity and quiet of the village life. But it felt like an escape, a retreat into the past rather than a step forward into the future.
When I woke up, the streets outside had already begun to hum with activity. The market vendors were setting up, the familiar sounds of haggling and foot traffic filling the air. Lagos was never still, and neither was I. There was too much to do, too much at stake. The GCE exams were getting closer, and I had to be ready.
I checked my phone for any updates. Beth had responded to my message, saying she was looking forward to meeting. I felt a rush of relief. Her presence, her support—it was one of the few constants in my life right now.
I texted her back, letting her know I'd be at the usual spot near the bus stop by noon. That was my safe place, a spot where I could just be myself without the weight of family expectations or the looming pressures of life in Lagos. It was where I could breathe.
As I made my way to the meeting spot, I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. I hadn't told Beth everything. I hadn't shared the full extent of my struggles—how I was unsure where I would be staying or how the weight of the GCE exams seemed like an impossible mountain to climb. But today, I promised myself, would be the day I told her. I owed her that much.
I arrived early, as usual, and found a spot on the edge of the bench. The sun was already hot, the air thick with the sounds of the city. People bustled about, unaware of the internal battles being fought in the hearts of those around them. I sat there, thinking, waiting, until I saw Beth walking toward me.
She had this way of walking that made everything around her seem a little softer, a little more manageable. She smiled when she saw me, her eyes lighting up, and I felt the tension in my chest ease just a little.
"Hey, you!" she greeted, sitting down beside me. "You okay?"
I nodded, but I knew it wasn't enough. She could always tell when I was hiding something. She was too perceptive, and I hated how much I relied on her to see through the mask I wore.
"I'm fine," I said, trying to keep my tone casual. But I could feel the crack in my voice, and I cursed myself for not being stronger.
Beth didn't buy it. She turned to face me, her expression soft but firm. "Fred, come on. You know you can talk to me."
I took a deep breath, the words finally coming out as I looked into her eyes. "I don't know where I'm going to stay. I had to leave Mr. Mohammed's place. Aunty Mary made things really difficult. And I've been thinking about going back to my grandmother's house in the village, but… I don't know. It feels like giving up."
Beth listened intently, her gaze never leaving mine. Her silence wasn't uncomfortable—it was the kind of silence that made me feel understood, like she was absorbing everything I was saying without judgment.
"You're not giving up," she said softly. "You're doing what you need to do for yourself. Sometimes, stepping away from the chaos isn't about running away; it's about finding the peace you need to figure things out."
Her words hit me harder than I expected. For the first time in days, I felt like maybe I wasn't failing. Maybe, just maybe, I was making the right choice.
"I've been so focused on trying to make things work here, trying to prove something to everyone else, that I've forgotten to listen to myself," I admitted, feeling the weight of those words more than I had anticipated.
Beth reached out and took my hand, her grip warm and steady. "Fred, you don't have to prove anything to anyone. You've got your own path, and you're doing the best you can. That's enough."
I smiled, feeling a lump form in my throat. I hadn't realized how much I needed to hear that until now. It wasn't just the encouragement I sought—it was the reminder that I wasn't alone. And for the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to believe that.
"Thanks, Beth. I really needed to hear that."
We sat there for a while, the sun slowly climbing higher in the sky. The sounds of the city around us were still there, but they felt distant, muffled by the quiet strength of our conversation. For a moment, I let myself just be present—no worrying about tomorrow, no fretting over the exams, no feeling ashamed about my decisions. Just me, sitting beside someone who truly cared.
Eventually, Beth stood up and stretched, breaking the moment. "So, what's next for you, Fred? What's the plan?"
I stood with her, feeling a new sense of clarity settle in my chest. "I think I'll go to the village. At least for a while. I need the time and space to study for the exams. And when I'm ready, I'll come back here, stronger, better prepared for whatever comes next."
Beth nodded, her smile returning. "I think that sounds like a good plan. And no matter where you go, I'm here for you. Always."
Those words—always—resonated deep within me. I had always feared being alone, but now, for the first time, I understood that being on my own didn't have to mean being lonely. I had people who cared about me, people who believed in me. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could truly believe in myself too.
"Thanks, Beth. You don't know how much that means to me," I said, my voice thick with emotion.
She smiled again, a glint of mischief returning to her eyes. "You owe me one, you know. Next time we meet, you're buying me some serious street food. Deal?"
I laughed, the sound coming easier than it had in days. "Deal."
And just like that, a weight lifted from my shoulders. The city, with all its noise and confusion, didn't seem so overwhelming anymore. The future was still uncertain, but I knew now that I didn't have to face it alone.
We said our goodbyes, and I watched as Beth walked away, her presence lingering in my mind long after she disappeared from view. I felt a renewed sense of purpose, and for the first time in a while, I felt hopeful.
The road ahead wasn't going to be easy, but at least now, I knew where I was going.