I got a phone call at half past eleven that night, and mum gave me a bleary eyed look as she handed me the phone. She mouthed to me that I better be in bed in fifteen minutes, and then staggered off to her room. No one had ever called me this late before, and so I was really surprised that someone called me at all. Pressing the phone to my ear, I was greeted by a tear-filled voice of my friend Delia.
She told me that she lost my number and had been calling Sophie for the past three hours to ask for it. I asked her what was wrong, because evidently something drastic happened to make this girl who rarely cried bawl her eyes out over the phone. She told me that it was Winifred. Apparently none of us had told her why Wini was in hospital, because we’ve all assumed that someone else told her. So poor Delia had to hear the news from the lips of none other than Wini.
From my conversation a couple of hours ago with Wini, I knew how hard it was to even bring up the event. And that was me trying to say it to Wini, not me hearing her saying that she tried to commit suicide. Delia told me that she broke down as she heard that. My god, here was something else I should’ve done. I should’ve prepared her for the news, but I didn’t.
Delia blamed herself so for Wini’s depression. She said to me that she should’ve seen the signs earlier. That we all should’ve done something. And I tried to tell her that it wasn’t her fault, nor was it our fault. But those consolations were mere hollow lies, because I too blamed myself and our group for not taking any actions.
But Delia was much wiser than I was. She wiped her eyes and said that we mustn’t blame ourselves for the past. The future was more important, she told me, because we can actually make a change to this situation. We promised each other that we’d look out for each other more, that we’d always be there, and that we’d never let anything like this touch our group again.
I finally hung up at one in the morning, feeling a bit better because of Delia’s call. It helped me so much to know that she felt the same, and that we’d walk together from now on. But a part of me could not let go of the past. I still believed that it was my fault, that if I did things differently it wouldn’t have ended like this.