Banke

She had two choices, technically.

But really, she only had one.

Everything she thought she was, everything she would have told you she believed in was being made void by what she had chosen to do. She was making herself a hypocrite, she thought, as she sat with her knees drawn up to her chest in the waiting room.

Two semesters ago, she had written a twenty page paper for her Women's Studies class; it was a research paper discussing pro-life feminism and all the reasons the need for a pro-choice movement was actually a reflection of the sexism in society that forced women to choose.

None of that mattered now.

She would not think of her mother, or of Eniola, or of her body.

She was separating herself from her body, becasue what was about to happen was not happening to her. It couldn't be happening to her. It was not her.

It was a story of a girl, a stupid girl and she was only watching it, sitting on the couch in her flat while Eniola made Indomie in the kitchen.

She could smell it, already she knew it would be delicious, because Eniola always made it with onions and peppers and a little bit of dried crayfish.

She could't wait to eat it; she would lean back in the couch with the hot bowl of spicy noodles in her lap and a bottle of ice cold coke. A glass bottle, like in Lagos.

And she and Eniola would shake their heads in sympathy and sigh 'eeyah' as they watched the stupid girl make another stupid choice.

---

"I did it." She whispered into the phone, she was sitting on the carpeted floor of her bedroom, her back leaning against her bed. She had been sitting that way for almost two hours before she decided to call Eniola.

"Did what?...wait, you didn't," Eniola's soft voice floated back to her through the receiver. She couldn't make out what the tone in her voice meant.

"Why do you sound like that?" She meant it as a sincere question, but it came out sounding a blittle like an accusation.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know, I just didn't know what..." her voice was cracking and she sounded like she was beginning to cry. "Banke I'm so sorry. How are you? I mean how are you feeling?"

"I don't know." Banke's tone was flat, she didn't mean to sound mechanical, but she couldn't seem to help it. "Flat." she said.

"Flat?" Eniola repeated"What do you mean? Do you want me to come and see you? I'll come, I'll go online now and buy a tick-"

"No," Banke said cutting her off "I'd rather come to your end if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind! Please come!"

---

It was true, she felt flat. Flat and void. The doctor had given her a small orange container of painkillers but that was it.

She went in, they gave her a white paper gown to change into, aneasthized her and did what they did. And it was gone.

And she felt flat.

She thought she'd be relieved, but the weight that had found its way into her chest when she found out she was pregnant seemed to have invited all its cousins. It didn't go like she hoped, the fear and anxiety only seemed to morph into one unidentifiable flat heavy thing in her chest.

The four hour train ride to Eniola's end of the state was spent staring out of the window at the trees that seemed to be rushing passed.

She couldn't eat anything, she had tried, but nothing stayed down.

So all she had had in the last three days was water and the last botle of Ribena; which she had been saving.

She spotted Eniola as soon as she stepped out of the station, she was leaning against an old looking white car talking to a tall white boy who Banke recognized as her boyfriend Ephraim.

As soon as she spotted her, Banke saw her mouth unfurl into a tentative smile, she rushed towards her and Banke saw that her eyes oozed concern. And Banke couldn't take it.

"How was the train?" Eniola asked taking Banke's heavy Duffle bag which Ephraim took from her and lugged over his shoulder.

"Alright, I guess." She responded, she managed a small smile and shrugged.

"Hey," Ephraim said with a smile.

"Ephraim, how far, how've you been?" She asked him

"Good, good just school and stuff. You?"

"Same." She knew that he most likely knew why she was coming to visit in the middle of the semester, less than three weeks after Eniola had gone to see her.

He was just being a gentleman and not letting her know that he knew. He probably knew, Eniola probably told him. She didn't really care.