The wakeup call that is death

I had to leave. I had to leave before I went to shit. I walked out of Mr Akinde’s office, responding to the half-heartedly said “Good morning, ma’s” with equally unenthusiastic replies from me on my way out. As I scrambled to find my car keys, I got distracted by the heavy blaring horn of a trailer. I don’t remember the spectators who filmed as the truck driver who fell asleep while driving got mobbed by an angry crowd. Or the dumbfounded look of my colleagues as they stared at my mangled body in the streets. I like to imagine these as everything seems now like a forgotten dream. I imagine seeing my secretary Sola, going home early from work now. If only I had a little more time with her, she would have finally had the confidence to apply for a job upstairs. All the tasks I gave her appeared impossible to her. She had only started to gain confidence and was doing better at work. I see my best friend, Sotonye, if only she would listen to me and get serious with life. She would always say, “Mala, sometimes you need to stop and smell the roses”, I would laugh and respond, “Only billionaires deserve to smell roses”. I even miss Sotonye’s kids, my favourite memories — when they needed help with their homework saying, “Mummy doesn’t know math, aunty will teach me this one”. I would laugh and say, “but mummy is a great mummy, and this is why she had you”. What continues to perturb me? What are all the people I cared so much about thinking? Was Wale, my long-time partner, happy to see me gone? Was he relieved he no longer had to push himself as hard? Was Sola happy for extra time or was she devastated about my death? I lived a life focused on self-improvement and helping others grow. I had been too busy achieving this goal to let fleeting emotions get in my way. Being stuck in someone’s memories was my biggest fear. I lived for moving forward. Now, I am stuck in the past, a past I have no control over, their past. I remember the day when it all went wrong. Sola had messed up my big presentation. The night before, Sotonye had told me that her husband wanted her to stop seeing me. The claim — I was a bad influence on his wife and children. I felt so heartbroken and turned to Wale, the second person closest to me. He agreed with her and took the time to point out flaws in my character. That morning, I had been so distracted by the occurrences from the previous night that I hadn’t done my usual prep work. Normally I wouldn’t have even been able to think about leaving the office until everything was completely organized and error-free, but there was a lot going on, and I completely blanked out. It was like a poorly written Nollywood movie. I was getting fired after 5 years of stellar service. A badly done presentation had made me unfit to work at their company. I was going to burst. I needed to get to a safe place. My bathroom at home where no one could see me crying. I was going to wail for a few hours and act as if everything was okay, I needed to get home quickly, but I never did. Now I wonder if anyone truly wondered if my smiles and confidence were genuine. What if they wanted to ask how I felt? Or if they saw the cries for help behind my perfectly made-up face. I cried, but no one saw me or asked. But all of that was useless in the end. From where I am floating, I feel a lot lighter as I remember the sound of the horn. I died, but I was saved. I do not have to carry those burdens anymore. My chest no longer has to feel tight, my heart does not have to beat fast, and I no longer have to cry by myself.