IVY

As a good friend, how do you react to the disappearance of one of your friends? How do you feel about it? How do you talk about it? How do you insert yourself or better yet exempt yourself completely from the situation at hand? How do you start telling everyone who your friend was? How do you deal with all the whispers about the friend? Do you blame yourself? Do you feel relief at the realisation of their disappearance? Do you understand?

I can tell you what, the answer to all the questions is simple. Its complicated.

There is no way you can face the authorities and listen to them dissect the life of your friend with judgement, contempt… there is just no way. It crushes a part of you.

Ivy disappeared while we were in the middle of our taking exams. Her disappearance was perceived by many as a simple evasion of the exams, but I knew better. Even when she was not fully prepared for an exam, Ivy always showed up. And then one day, she just didn’t. And that’s when I knew she had snapped.

Let me tell you a little back story about Ivy.

She was the first person I met when I joined campus. We were literally parked next to each other. She was the first course mate I met, and definitely the first friend I made.

My first impression of Ivy was a majestic girl who definitely knew how to handle her shit. While I was still figuring out how to be an adult while still a child in a way, Ivy had figured out herself completely. She knew what she wanted and was not afraid of going for it. I admired that about her. And while she was all that, she also didn’t know how to slow down. Ivy wanted to experience everything in a flash; and when she put her life in drive, there was just no slowing down.

Wild. Ferocious. Intelligent beyond measure. Sophisticated. That was Ivy. She read vastly. It didn’t matter what book it was; as long as there was information in it, she read it. I liked listening to her talk. I liked talking to her because I got so much insight on not just her intellectual state, but also her psychological state. Despite the fact that I considered Ivy a close friend, there were still some things that we could not be on the same page about. I respected her decisions even those I knew I didn’t stand for. And in turn she respected me enough to not try and push me to accelerate my own life.

Ivy was living her life. Until she wasn’t.

The change didn’t happen all at once. It was a slow progression. When we talked, she started mentioning being alone. Leaving IT all behind and just starting all afresh. A clean slate. She started talking and I knew Ivy was tired of accelerating. She wanted to slow down, or stop completely. Nobody understood her as far as she knew, yet at the same time, she made it impossible for people to know her.

It was then that the alienation began. I did not blame her or try to push her into explaining why she was alienating her friends. Because I knew it was a long time coming. She changed her number. She changed her dressing. The once elegantly dressed lady switched to baggy jeans and rugged shoes. She stopped caring for her hair, and suddenly her trademark look became shaggy hair. She stopped using her make up. It is not like she needed it, but she loved having some colour on her lips. She stopped laughing. She stopped challenging my thinking. She withdrew.

And then she disappeared.

I saw the signs and I did nothing. Well not exactly nothing, but just nothing that mattered enough to have her stay. Do I blame myself? Like I said before, the answer is complicated.

The first place I would go when I feel overwhelmed and in dire need of a break, no questions asked, is home. Somehow everyone always belongs home. Well at least I hope they do. And home was the first place I looked for Ivy; after trying and failing to get her via phone. I called her mother, asking if she had gone home. Ivy was not there. I called our mutual friends asking if they may have seen her, no one had. And those who did, had nothing to offer other than a million questions. I reported her disappearance and waited.

During the exam period, I kept moving from exam room to the Dean’s office and back. I even got to first name basis with the Dean.

Then it was everyone calling. Everyone wanted to know what I knew. Everyone wanted to know Ivy. And at that moment I hated her. I hated her for putting me through such a situation. I hated her for putting me in a position where I had to choose to either lie and protect her secrets or spill and hate myself for betraying the trust, she had in me. I hated that despite it all, I spilled. I hated her for disappearing without any word. I hated that she did not value my friendship enough to loop me in. I hated what she did to her family. I hated that I could not even be mad at her because she was not there to receive that anger. I hated that my privacy ceased to be my own as I was also being looked at. I hated her guts. But most importantly, I hated that I still cared.

Then I stopped.

As the weeks progressed into months, the story of Ivy’s disappearance became a thing of the past. People stopped asking questions. I stopped responding to questions. I stopped discussing her. The moment I helped her mother pack her things… The moment I saw the state she was in… The uncertainty in her eyes… That moment is when I stopped thinking about Ivy. Because anytime I thought about her, I had imagined scenarios in my head and all were terrible.

The silence of the coming months grew louder and in the middle of all that, the whispers began. Rumours. Ivy amepatikana. Naskia mwili yake imepatwa. Ivy hayuko Kenya. Ivy ameolewa. Ivy ako Al Shabaab. Ivy this! Ivy that! And it was all just too much all at once. I didn’t want to constantly think of her, but I wanted a silver of hope; anything to deal with the crushing weight of uncertainty, and when all I kept getting was ridiculous whispers, I gave up.

What did I have to say at this point? Ivy is a smart girl. She knows what she is doing. Ivy is not dead, she is not a terrorist and is definitely not married. If Ivy wants to be found, she will be found. She is probably not even hiding. Knowing her, Ivy might just be around here somewhere. And when I was asked if I was still looking for her, my answer did not waver, “NO”. Some people even began to suspect I had something to do with her disappearance, or a little more knowledge on the matter. I would have thought the same had I been listening to myself talk.

I graduated and left everything there was to do with Ivy in campus.

It was not long after the new semesters began that I again heard about Ivy. And this time it wasn’t some ridiculous rumour from an unreliable source. This time it was confirmation that Ivy was not only alive and well, but she was also back in school. I sent out word to my friends and had them track her down and give her my contact. It hasn’t changed in years but I just wanted her to know am aware she was back, and am reaching out.

I got her contact. Saved it and kept staring at it for two days before I decided to make the call. The phone kept ringing and I was just about to hang up when she picked. Hello? I knew her voice immediately. I did not know what to tell her and so I just went mute. Hello? She was persistent.

Hi. Its Paula.

Oh my God! I didn’t think you would call. Its been a while huh?

Gee you think? Yeah it has. I didn’t know what to say that’s why I didn’t call earlier

I get that. I mean I disappear for years and then am back…

Aha…

She went on to tell me she is back in school. Resumed her classes, and that now, she has a baby. I would have liked very much to be surprised by that revelation.

How old is she?

A year

Whats her name?

Chloe

You always loved that name

Yeah. You remember that?

I remember everything.

I deliberately avoided asking her about her time away. Was I curious? Oh yeah definitely. But I was going to keep it to myself. If I was going to get any answers or even better yet a reasonable explanation, it had to be face to face. I planned to visit her, but other plans kept getting priority. When I finally got time to travel to Nakuru for some business; I decided to squeeze in a couple of hours for a visit.

When I met with Ivy, I needed closure. I wasn’t sure at the time if I wanted to be her friend anymore and for many reasons. For one, I believed she was selfish. Who leaves her family and friends with no explanation whatsoever? I wanted to move on, and I wanted to close her chapter completely.

We were in her hostel room, attempting to hold on to small talk. I don’t do well with small talk.

“I have been waiting for you to ask me” she finally said looking at me.

“Ask you what?”

“The big question. Why did I leave? Where was I? Just ask about everything”

I looked at her and started yelling all the things I wanted to tell her from the moment she disappeared. Are you happy now that you finally became top priority in everyone’s head? Did you accomplish your goal? How fucking selfish could you possibly get? Did ever think about getting if not your friends, then your family out of their bloody misery? Why didn’t you talk to anyone?

It was only after a two-minute moment of awkward silence that I realized I had actually not said those words out loud. In which case I had a moment to compose myself.

 “I wasn’t going to ask anything. I figured if you wanted to tell me something you wouldn’t need me to push you to it”

“Well, I needed to clear my head” she went on to tell me about her life in Nakuru, the work she did. The people she dated. And when she got her daughter.

“How did you go back home?”

“A family friend”

“Yeah?”

“She walked into the hotel I was working in and we talked. I was pregnant at the time, around four months in. She asked me to go home with her and I told her I couldn’t face my parents. So, she went to talk to my parents. Explained my situation, and then my Mum and brother came and picked me up”

“How did your family respond to your return?”

“Surprisingly well! I expected them to throw me out with all I did and plus a baby… you know…”

She went further on to give me details on how her reunion with her family was. She told me about adjusting to school, given that everyone she knew and everyone who knew her was gone already. I asked her why she even bothered going back when she already left. Her answer was simple, or at least I think it was. “It felt like the right thing to do”

I tried to understand.

“What did you imagine was going on while you were away?” I finally asked her, careful not to sound vindictive or condescending.

“Honestly I figured no one would miss me or even realise am gone”

“Clearly you thought wrong huh?”

“Yeah… and the Dean told me about you. She even wanted to give me your contact but I couldn’t take it”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t think you guys wanted to talk to me.” Her voice was steady but even I could tell the genuine fear behind that confession. I deliberately decided not to dwell on that and moved on to something else.

“So, you and your mum? You guys are good?”

“Oh yeah. We are supper close now. We actually talk and she listens… it’s been good.”

“So, then it all worked out as you planned? I mean except for the baby part?”

“Yeah. But she is the only thing keeping me together now.” The pride in her voice was pronounced, but so was her fear still.

We talked more about her new life; I gave her bits and pieces about my own life. Careful not to give away too much. I mean, I was practically walking on egg shells there. I updated her on our friends’ lives, again very careful not to give away much.

Did I get the closure I wanted? Did I understand her? I don’t know.

What I know is most people my age are like Ivy. With no support group to fall back on, we put on so many masks that when it finally wears us down, we decide to lie still, allowing the masks to keep crushing us further. We are living in a freaking masquerade ball, a never ending, nerve wrecking masquerade ball. It is draining.

Ivy was depressed, probably still is. She felt no one was getting her. She was suffocating. Her parents were not helpful, her mother judged her. She felt she was a burden to her friends. She wanted out. She wanted to start over. A clean slate; regardless of the actions and consequences. She put herself first. She was selfish for her own good. She started running, and only stopped when she felt a little bit grounded.

This is how I want to understand Ivy. This is how I want to understand everyone else that reaches their breaking point.

And yet I just can’t stop and ask myself ‘why not reach out?’. It is when I ask this question that I realise in my perfect imperfection, I am never going to understand. However, much as I try, I will not fully understand Ivy.

But, am I her friend?