CHAPTER 16: YOU MEAN THE WORLD TO US, STUPID!

MAYA.

As I opened the door to my apartment, Sasha's fiery presence burst forth, her voice a thunderclap of indignation.

"Maya Virginia-Elizabeth Jones! You crazy, fucking bitch! Did you finally lose your God-damn, fucking mind?" she exclaimed, her rage palpable.

She slammed her Louis Vuitton messenger bag onto the sofa, the designer leather creaking in protest. Then, in a whirlwind of emotion, she enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug, her slender frame deceptively strong. Eric joined in, his eyes brimming with tears, and I felt a pang of guilt for disappearing on them without a word. The weight of their concern and worry was crushing, making me feel even more wretched than I already did.

I should have known better than to vanish into thin air without a word, leaving my loved ones worried sick. But the truth was, even I hadn't anticipated the chaotic outcome of last night's events. Everything had unfolded at a breakneck pace, leaving me no time to think or reason. I had simply reacted on instinct, driven by my emotions.

Sasha and Eric's simultaneous outburst of "I'm so freaking mad at you!" and "Me too, I freaking hate you!" was a poignant expression of their relief and frustration.

As they nuzzled their faces into the crook of my neck, I felt a lump in my throat. Sasha's tears dampened my skin, and I knew I was in trouble. The crying was always the worst – it was the ultimate guilt trip, and I was powerless against it.

I knew I had to act fast to prevent a full-blown emotional meltdown. If Sasha started crying, it would be a domino effect, and before I knew it, we'd all be sobbing uncontrollably. I took a deep breath and attempted to apologize, but my words only seemed to make things worse.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry guys. I just didn't know what to do," I stammered, my voice cracking as the tears began to flow.

The once-quiet walls of my apartment were now filled with the cacophony of our collective crying: sniffling, hiccuping, and the unmistakable sounds of snot-filled noses. I cringed at the thought of my neighbors overhearing our emotional spectacle. This peculiar phenomenon of group crying was a unique aspect of our friendship, a testament to the depth of our love and care for one another.

As I looked back, I realized that this tradition of communal crying had been a part of our lives for as long as I could remember. One of my earliest memories of us crying together was the time Eric got a nosebleed from hugging a basketball with his face during PE in middle school. The image still made me chuckle, but it also reminded me of the unbreakable bond we shared – a bond that allowed us to be vulnerable, to cry together, and to support each other through thick and thin.

The memory of that fateful day still made me cringe. Sasha and I had been convinced we were going to lose our best friend, and our emotions had spiraled out of control. We sobbed uncontrollably, and Eric, in his attempt to calm us down, had ended up joining the chorus of tears. The scene had become infamous throughout Blossom Middle School, earning us the humiliating nickname "The Three Crying Princesses" – a moniker that had haunted us for years. The ridicule had been so unbearable that we'd eventually transferred schools to escape the constant teasing.

Yet, despite the initial horror of that experience, our tendency to cry together had, over time, become an endearing tradition. It was a testament to the unbreakable bond we shared, a bond that had only grown stronger with age. As I looked at my friends, now on the cusp of adulthood, I knew that this quirky behavior was an integral part of who we were. And as we sat there, tears streaming down our faces, I realized that some habits were just too ingrained to outgrow.

Sasha and Eric spoke in unison, their voices filled with remorse. "No, we're sorry." "Yes, it's us who should be sorry." Their words were a balm to my soul, a reminder that, no matter what, we were in this together.

As we slowly disentangled ourselves from the group hug, Sasha and Eric's voices merged in perfect synchrony, a phenomenon that had become eerily familiar over the years.

"We're sorry, we didn't notice what you were going through," they said in unison, their words laced with regret. "We're horrible friends," they chimed in tandem, their voices heavy with self-reproach.

I attempted to reassure them, to absolve them of any blame. "C'mon, guys. Don't pin this on yourselves. You didn't even know," I reasoned, trying to alleviate their guilt. But they both shook their heads, their expressions somber.

Eric's voice, in particular, was laced with a melancholy that tugged at my heartstrings. "That's the thing, Maya. We should've known. We're your best friends," he said, his words dripping with a sense of responsibility and remorse. My heart ached at the sound of his sorrow, and I felt a pang of regret for not confiding in them sooner.

Sasha's brow furrowed in confusion as she muttered, "Yeah, why didn't we notice anything?" I forced a laugh, trying to inject some levity into the conversation, but it fell flat. Sasha's cringe was palpable, and I knew I'd failed miserably.

Eric's expression turned serious, his voice filled with conviction. "Well...don't do that next time, okay? We care about you. We should go through these things together; you're not alone." His words were a gentle reminder of the unbreakable bond we shared, but I knew he was preaching to the choir – I was well aware of their love and support.

Sasha's face lit up with a fierce determination, her voice filled with emotion. "Yeah! You mean the world to us, stupid!" The affectionate insult was a classic Sasha move, and I couldn't help but smile at her antics. Despite the gravity of the situation, her words warmed my heart, reminding me that I was loved, cherished, and never alone.

Sasha's declaration was like a ray of sunshine, and I couldn't help but burst out laughing. It was a deep, belly-shaking laughter that left me gasping for air, my sides aching with merriment. The tension that had been weighing me down since morning began to dissipate, and I felt a sense of light wash over me like a burden had been lifted from my shoulders.

As my laughter subsided, Eric's curious expression drew me back to the present. "So, what exactly happened?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with interest. Sasha nodded vigorously, her ponytail bobbing up and down as she chimed in, "Yeah, tell us! We still don't know what happened!" Her voice was laced with excitement, and I knew I had to share the whole story with them.

I took a deep breath, knowing I had to recount the entire ordeal from the very beginning. I told them about the fateful phone call six months ago, when a stranger's voice claimed to be my father. The memory still sends shivers down my spine. I explained how ignoring his calls only fueled his persistence, and how countless emails had flooded my inbox, asking if I was indeed Maya and requesting more information. At first, I had dismissed it as a prank by some bored university student, thinking they would eventually lose interest and move on.

But then, the phone call came, and my world was turned upside down. I struggled to put into words the emotional turmoil I had endured over the past few months, the anxiety that gripped me every time my phone rang or beeped with messages from him. The constant barrage of communication had become a relentless drumbeat of stress, making it impossible for me to escape the weight of his presence in my life.

I hesitated for a moment before handing over my phone, allowing them to read some of the texts he'd sent over the past few days. I knew that if I let them access the entire archive, they'd be scrolling through messages for hours, maybe even days. The sheer volume of his communication was overwhelming, and I didn't want to burden them with it.

As Eric scrolled through the messages, Sasha's expression transformed from concern to outrage. "What an absolute ass!" she exclaimed, her voice dripping with indignation, when Eric read aloud the part where my father had threatened to show up in Nigeria if I didn't respond to his messages. I nodded in agreement, still trying to process the audacity of his words.

I took a deep breath and continued my story, recounting how he'd appeared at Mrs. D's place yesterday, expecting me to welcome him with open arms. The memory still felt surreal, like a bad dream that I couldn't shake off.

I poured my heart out to them, recounting every detail from the moment my father showed up at Mrs. D's place to the moment Andrew found me and offered me a haven for the night. I deliberately omitted the more sensitive aspects of my encounter with Andrew, carefully glossing over the events that had transpired while I was under the influence. The memories of our intimate moments still lingered, hazy and unclear, and I wasn't ready to confront them just yet.

Sasha's and Eric's reactions were predictable, their outrage and indignation simmering just below the surface. "The nerve of that man!" Sasha exclaimed, her voice trembling with anger.

"He had no right to treat you that way, after all these years!" Eric added, his eyes flashing with a fierce protectiveness.Their words were a balm to my soul, reminding me that I wasn't alone and that they would always stand up for me.

Sasha and Eric's voices merged in a simultaneous outburst, their faces twisted in a fierce scowl as they finished reading the messages from the man who claimed to be my father. Their eyes blazed with a protective fury, and I knew they were itching to defend me against this stranger who had dared to hurt me. I understood their sentiment all too well; I would stop at nothing to shield them from harm, and I knew they felt the same way about me.

Eric's question cut through the tension, his voice a gentle probe amidst the emotional turmoil. "What did your auntie say about all of this?" he asked, referring to Andrew's mother. I shrugged, feeling a mixture of emotions swirling inside me.

"Nothing, I don't think she knew," I replied, my voice measured as I considered the possibility. From what I'd observed, Andrew's mother had seemed just as perplexed by my father's sudden appearance as I was. Her expression had been a mask of confusion, and I couldn't help but wonder if she'd been caught off guard by his arrival.

I nodded to myself, a plan beginning to form in my mind. "If anything, I should hear what she has to say before I decide on how I feel about all of this." It seemed only fair to gather all the facts before making any judgments or decisions. Andrew's mother might hold some crucial information, and I was determined to listen to her side of the story before drawing any conclusions.