Jerry’s Girl

“You’re actually a fool.”

It truly wasn’t the phrase itself. It was the honest, calm inflection in Hannah’s voice when she said it — a phrase not intended to hurt, but to convey simple and clear truth. “You’re a fool, Ronke.”

I looked up at her, too weak from crying to pretend that her proclamation had offended me. “Hannah.”

“Don’t ‘Hannah’ me. You always do this!”

Huh? Ah, that one was a lie. “I always do this, keh? How? Isn’t this the first time I’ve ever been in love?”

“Not this rubbish! You do stupid things, then expect me to clean up after you.” She picked up her loud fuschia handbag, which matched the couch she was seated on. Then she stood up. “I’m done. I’m actually freaking done with your nonsense — and I’m dead serious.”

“Hannah! Please, Hannah. I need your help. S’aanu mi. I’m not sure what to do next.”

She whirled around to face me. “Ronke, if you as much as text me for something not related to work — I’ll block your number without thinking twice. I’ll block you everywhere. Try me. Ah, just try me!” Hannah usually wore the best facade of nonchalance I’d ever seen in my life; and she was notorious for having a poker face that was rarely ever compromised. You never could tell what was on her mind. But right now, I could see her forehead veins bulging with poorly-suppressed rage as she struggled not to raise her voice even louder. Wow. I’d broken through a barrier of some sort, clearly. “You’re insane, and I want nothing to do with this!”

As she walked out, I felt an unexpected wave of relief wash over me. The voice of my conscience was finally gone, and I was free to quit pretending that I regretted what I’d just done. Even better, Hannah was gone permanently from my life — and she would never expose me. I had custody of enough of her secrets to know she’d never dare. Now, I just needed to finish the job.

Walking into my bedroom, I fought the urge to scream in excitement. I’d just hit the lottery! The love lottery, at least.

There, gagged and bound with jute ropes around her hands, sat the chief impediment to my love story. Her name was Nene, the woman who Jerry had fallen hopelessly in love with. “Hi, Nene,” I said with a plain-jane smile that quickly morphed into a sinister one. “Guess what?”

She was silent, and it took me a second to realise that she was unable to reply because I’d gagged her with some duct tape. “You cost me my boyfriend, and now you’ve just cost me my best friend.”

In one quick motion, I ripped the tape from her mouth, making her yelp in pain. “You take and take. I’ve never even spoken to you, and it’s like you’re out to take everything from me.”

I’m not sure what I expected to come out of her mouth next — maybe some begging, a plea or a cry of fright. Anything but “Who the hell are you?” would have been okay. But that was what she chose to lead with.

Immediately, I was filled with a white, blinding rage.

Jerry betrayed me, and had not even done me the courtesy of mentioning that he had a woman? I was never a consideration; never a part of the equation when they looked into each other’s eyes? “Are you joking with me, Nene? It’s me — Aderonke. Jerry’s wife-to-be!”

Straining against the rope like a feral cat, she screamed into my face, “Let me go, you this crazy woman! I didn’t take anything from you. I don’t know you!”

It hit me then — there was nothing left to do. Jerry’s humiliation had been final and precise. He’d betrayed me with this woman, and kept my existence a dirty secret. After two months of a fiery love. After countless kisses and a thousand roses. After millions of Naira given. Nene’s existence was a solid, human reminder of all this, and I needed to blight it from the face of the Earth.

Now I didn’t just want to kill her; I needed to kill her.