Sunday 5 July 2015

BOOMERANG: the story of the foolish lady


I couldn’t bring myself to believe that my sister has brought this much shame upon us. Or let me say I did know she would, but I didn’t know it will be this quick. Now, for the first time in my life, the first son, the second born, I witnessed the whole family of four enveloped in a dark fog of darkness that may never leave again. I also needed to be blamed in all these; I should have talked when I had the chance, and I knew my dad would have taken a drastic measure. And probably, this wouldn’t have happened.
I remembered the day my dad asked me to go give my sister some urgent money in school. Her numbers weren’t going, and she said the deadline was going to be twelve noon that day. The first thing that went wrong was that she wasn’t staying in the school hostel as she claimed she was. I was directed to a friend, who directed me to another friend who said her friend will take me to her friend who knew her place off campus, where she was staying with her friends. Well, I got to the place, and I knocked without an answer. The door was left slightly opened, so I pushed my way in. The sight was a shame. My sister, including five of her friends was asleep and snoring like uncultured animals. My sister was sleeping in a vomit of another one who was naked, from waist to the top. I tapped her, and that was when I knew she was drunk.
Outside, she begged me not to tell our parents, and I agreed. Not that that didn’t have a price which she gladly paid. The dress she was wearing was not more than a handkerchief, and her nipples were pointing sideways. The skirt was a super micro mini like the ones I’ve only seen in movies involving prostitutes.  I wonder how she managed to appear at home during holidays like a responsible girl she was brought up to be. She should be a double agent. But I didn’t mind, she paid me good.
Then, just last week, a concerned friend of hers called my dad and told him that my sister was pregnant and was trying to self-abort it after the doctor said it might take her life. My parents flew to her school and carted her home. At home, my dad asked her to call the guy who was responsible for her pregnancy, but that proved to be the wrong move. The guy said he has already told my sister he can’t be responsible. This came about when the three different doctors said she can’t abort the pregnancy because she has aborted too many, and doing this will surely claim her life. He said my sister opened up to him that she has aborted eleven times for different guys! The guy even said he listened to her plea to abort the pregnancy after carefully considering he couldn’t marry a girl like her. He said they always have sex inside the toilet of the club where they met! He wasn’t even sure he was responsible. Guys at the club call her ‘el-Sarah’. The prefix before her name actually means ‘easy lay’, but she has always been told it meant ‘almighty’!
My dad, for the first time since I was born, cried like a baby, with his head on my mom’s bosom. My mom was trying to console my dad, but she was also crying. Everyone except me was. That day, our house was like a graveyard, silent, with a heavy air of darkness. El-Sarah cried throughout the night. Eventually, amidst her noise, I slept off.
The next day, I woke up to the usual silence and the unusual silence of El-Sarah. With curiosity, I headed to her room and found her dead with a note with two words, ‘I’m sorry’. I took the note and went straight to my parents’ room, I wasn’t feeling bad. My mom fell on the floor and started crying, but my dad, surprisingly, was calm. He held my arm and pulled me outside the room. I was scared; I thought he was going to accuse me because his countenance was stern and piercing. But as soon as he closed the door behind him, he looked into my eyes, raised the suicide note to my face and said,
“Son, I am sorry your sister had to take her life, we probably were too harsh on her, but this is not a solution, it never should be. If you are wondering why I wasn’t moved by this, it is because I am angry at her for hurting us, and then leaving us in mystery. Your mom might never overcome this shock. Suicide is never a way out; there is always a chance for redemption. Son, no matter what you did, what you will do, remember, we might get hurt, we might get harsh, but never take your life. That is never a way out.”

I nodded and went back inside, angry at my sister, the foolish one!

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