My name is John, and this is my story.
The story of how the bad choices I made in life led to the best choices. My mom always told me she believed, as a Christian, that life is never over, even after death.
In high school, I was the typical quiet and smart kid. I was eighteen at that time. Always stayed on my own.
It was then that I met Sheila, also eighteen, a transfer student who seemed to get a liking for me.
She claimed she liked “quiet and shy boys,"
At first, we became friends as I helped her catch up in academics. But as time passed slowly, the number one rule I wrote down for myself, which was “education first and no distractions," began to blur until it faded away quickly because I started to really like Sheila.
Sheila wasn't just my only friend; she was my best friend and the first girl who ever cared for me and gave me attention. I felt a deep connection with her, and the feeling was mutual.
It became so obvious that even outsiders could see it, and I guess the rumors that began spreading boosted my confidence to ask her to be my girlfriend.
“Just girlfriend, right? Nothing serious that would affect my academics. Besides, nothing will change, and we will still be the same. The only change would be the status.”
I asked her out and she agreed. Nothing changed, and we were still best friends, study buddies and just that. And 8 thought it would remain like that.
But I was wrong.
It all started with study sessions at my house. It was very easy for my mom to accept her and was very friendly with her, because my mom trusted me.
It started on the third study session at my place. From soft touches to my first kiss.
And just like that, we let our youthful list take over. After that night, our relationship changed. We shared something deeper.
But then one day Sheila started avoiding me. She changed seats, she didn't walk or talk with me, we didn't have lunch or read together in the library anymore, and anytime I approached her, she would dodge me, turn around or act like I was a ghost when I tried speaking to her.
I was so sad and couldn't stop wondering what had gone wrong.
I was in the library studying alone at our usual spot when Sheila walked over to me and sat down. I was surprised. I was about to ask her why she suddenly started treating me badly.
“Hey shei—”
"I am pregnant,” she cut me short.
I was shocked and confused. I didn't know what to do. I just stared at her blankly and lost.
Sheila looked at me as there was sudden fear in her eyes; I could see it, and I understood. I would do the same if I asked someone I loved to marry me and she just kept silent.
I opened my mouth to ask how, but I was wise to stop it in my throat, because it was clearly a stupid question.
I thought for a minute before I gave a good response, which I deemed okay.
“What are we going to do? Are you going to keep it?" I asked
"I told my mom, and she said I can't remove it, I just wanted to let you know I am keeping it,” Sheila said walked away.
I sat there staring into my book for hours, but all I was thinking about was how my life was about to change drastically. I had to tell my mom how she would take it.
I told my mom, and the first thing she asked me was if Sheila had decided to keep it. And I could tell she was disappointed with me and with herself for not knowing. My mom and I told each other everything before because we had only each other.
Surprisingly, both our families were supportive. Sheila didn't stop school, she didn't care about the gossip and whispers. I helped her stay on track. Although our grades did drop significantly.
The day she delivered her family was at her right side, her mother holding her hand. And I was on her left, holding her hand while my mom held my other hand.
She delivered successfully. We had a strong baby boy.
Her family took the baby home, and my mom and I visited every day. We named him Junior.
One day, when I was alone with Sheila as she was feeding the baby, I decided to bring up something I had been thinking of a lot—our future.
“So what are we going to do?" I asked out of nowhere.
“What about what?" She asked
“Us, me, you and the baby? I mean, it's too early for marriage and all that, but I can start preparing to support and take care of our family. We—,"
Sheila began to laugh.
I looked at her, confused because I didn't know why she was laughing.
She looked at me and stopped, "Wait, you are serious?" She became serious, “I don't know how it's going to be but I can't let one bad choice I made define the rest of my life. Besides, our parents are here to support us.”
I became sad. Was I stupid to still imagine fantasies—a wedding? A family?
I understood her, but I guess hearing her say that hurt me because I loved her to the extent I hadn't imagined life without her. Or was I just as stupid as a teenager?
I never brought up that topic again. And everyone was still happy.
Junior was three years old. Over the years, our families took turns taking care of him. A few weeks after his third birthday, Sheila and her family wanted to make a trip to Nigeria to visit their relatives.
They were going to be gone for four months and left Junior with us, and my mom was more than happy because John was like a second son to her.
During the four months we couldn't reach Sheila but just assumed it was a bad reception.
But when four months passed, we realized something wasn't right. My mom and I were both worried. Weeks after no sign of Sheila, I found a letter in Junior's clothes box. It was written by Sheila to Junior, saying how she loved him and wished she didn't have to go.
The letter pissed me off, not because she left without giving me a reason or a head start. But because she left John without his mother.
It is still a mystery whatever reason her and her family had to just up and left all of a sudden when everything was alright.
But time passed, and I found that John didn't need to feel the pain of her absence because my mom was always there.
Now, in the present, with my mom beside me, I am watching proudly as my son racks up half the awards at his graduation. The brightest and loveliest kid ever. A blessing to me and my mom.
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