HiveComb

The evening in 2019 is the wound that I have not completely healed yet. There were clouds in the sky, those that slowed down the air and made it heavy. I sat in front of the hostel, holding my phone in my hand and going through some of the old messages of Tunde, my closest friend in campus.

We had encountered each other during our first year in the University of Ilorin. He was tall, gregarious and had this unwavering confidence in him that people trusted him readily. We became friends quickly. We read, ate, shared even clothes. He was not just a friend to me, but he was a sort of brother I never had.

The same semester, I was experiencing a personal problem. I had gotten into a minor school-related problem of missing a test which would impact my course grade. One evening after school I explained to Tunde about it. We were chatting on the field on some meaningless point when I thought of opening up.

"Bro, I do not know how to do this," I said to myself. "In case the lecturer realizes the situation, I could be forced to retake the course."

Tunde serious had gazed upon me. “Guy, no worry. I know how to talk to him. Just trust me.”

Image Source

I trusted him. Completely.

After two days, I began receiving weird glances of the classmates. One day, I was heading to the faculty one evening when I was approached by one of my coursemates, Simi.

“Is it true?” she asked.

“True about what?”

"You attempted to bribe the lecturer by Tunde?"

Her words were like a cold shower.

I giggled like a fool and believed she was joking. “Wait, what are you saying?”

She folded her arms. “Everyone is talking about it. They reported that Tunde informed some individuals."

I froze.

Later on, I went directly to the room of Tunde that night. He was sitting on his bed and felt his phone, behaving like a normal person.

"Bro, I said slowly, and trying my best to keep my voice down, did you say anything that I said about Dr. Martins?"

He looked up briefly. “Ah, guy, calm down. I have only informed Simi and some other people because they should not misunderstand it when they hear it elsewhere."

I experienced a palpation in my chest. “You told people? That was not to be told abroad."

He shrugged. “You’re overreacting. It’s not that deep.”

But it was.

Even one of the lecturers by the following week gave a hint of the same during the course. The rumour had become out of control. I had turned out to be the guy who attempted to purchase a grade.

Image Source

I could not move anywhere without the feeling that people were looking at me. I entered my roommates who quieted down. Other members of my group began to shun me. Worse still, Tunde continued like nothing wrong had occurred in that he kept laughing all in the cafeteria, keeping patting me on the back like some old friend.

I did not eat out for some time. I skipped a few classes. The quietness of the surrounding was so deafening that I wondered if I was sane.

One day when I was walking to school at night, I saw him standing outside the kiosk gossiping with a group of other men. I would have preferred to leave him alone, but he called out to me, "My guy! Long time!”

I slowly turned and stared at him. “You destroyed my name, Tunde.”

He frowned. “Ah, it’s not like that. I didn’t mean that”

“Forget it,” I cut in. “Just… don’t talk about me again.”

He attempted to argue the point, but I was over with it. I walked away.

Weeks passed. The commotion that surrounded the rumour would eventually die down. Human beings shifted their attention to other activities. Yet my friendship towards Tunde never came round. We continued to see one another at the school, but we never said a word.

I have come to think that there was more than what was said that hurt me, the ease with which he said something hurt me sometimes, I look back upon it. It was easy to make trust a joke among others.

It was a weird feeling of relief and emptiness when I finally scored in that course on my own the next semester.

The last time I ever said something to somebody I was not ready to face by myself.