Not So Happily Married…. Episode Four

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My eyes were bloodshot, a far cry from what you would expect from a new bride. I stood up from the bed, stretched and went to the wardrobe to get my make up bag.

 

Subtlety is the key and I know that. No one expects a “just waking look” to show traces of makeup. So I applied a little foundation to conceal the bags under the eyes and a hint of black eye shadow to give a smoky look. I returned the kit to the wardrobe, placed myself carefully beside Jite. I paused for a minute to adjust some settings on the camera. Shutter sound and flashlight off, I placed my head on Jite’s chest and took the picture.

 

He didn’t rouse from sleep at all. I understood that he needed to sleep after the stressful day we had. I used the picture as my BBM display and put the message;

“First day of forever! Bliss…hitched and ecstatic.”

 

Jite and Omoboye (2)

The Yoruba people will say two people cannot be deceived at the same time. If the person who is being lied to doesn’t know, the person who is lying knows he is lying. I had no guilt for the deception. I was miserable but the world didn’t have to know.

 

Who would see the message and imagine that we had both gone to bed after a shouting match that people two rooms away could have heard.

I had surprised myself with the divorce word. It was unplanned but I was totally out of control.

He had burst out in laughter immediately I talked about divorce.

“Omoboye, please don’t make laugh. I am not in the mood for laughter. You? Divorce? You won’t do that Honey. You love public opinion too much for that. You would sooner die than face the stigma of divorce especially so soon.”

“Oh, you think I won’t abi? Keep this attitude up. See if I won’t. I don’t think you realize how much I wish I could be out of this room, out of this marriage, out of it all.”

“Who brings novels to their honeymoon? Why are we even doing the honeymoon anyway, we might as well not bother. You could tell your mum to keep her money, that we don’t need it. Tell her we are the worst couple that ever existed, that we don’t deserve favors. Tell her who your wife really is; tell her what you really think of me, make sure you include how you think I’m a vile, vain, baby killing monster.”

“I’m glad you know what you are.”

“You are glad I know what I am?”  I shrieked

I picked a pillow and threw it at him.

“How dare you even judge me? It’s not like you didn’t misbehave too. Have you even apologized to me for one minute for what you did with that Cripple?”

I waited for him to respond but he didn’t. Instead he turned his back to me.

I knew I had struck a nerve.

He didn’t talk to me after for the rest of the night.

 

 

 

 

****

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Omoboye in front of the wardrobe, a travelling box in front of her. She looked good and I allowed my eyes to feast on her. She takes good care of herself and it shows, Butter scotch skin, hairless legs which she waxed every other week, a well rounded bottom the result of numerous hip exercises. She is good looking and she knows it.

 The night dress formed a perfect silhouette for her curvy hips. I could tell she was wearing nothing underneath and I felt my body harden looking at her. Vintage me would have drawn her close and we would have had a mutually satisfying tango under the sheets but I couldn’t afford to do that as much as I wanted to at that moment. She would take it to mean we were cool. I wasn’t ready for that.

 It dawned on me that this was our first morning together as a married couple and I wanted to say something, good morning, hello or whatever it is that newlyweds say to each other the morning after. But somehow my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth. I was still too bitter about her mentioning my slip to even greet her.

She shouldn’t have mentioned anything about Bisade. She crossed the line with that and she knows it.

 

It’s not like I planned for what happened to happen.

 

Bisade is a dear friend and a confidant. We had never had anything intimate beyond talking but that changed the day Omoboye killed my baby.

I had gone to Bisade’s place straight from Boye’s apartment. I told her about what Boye did. She had been aghast at the extent of Boye’s vanity and had offered her comfort.

 

See Bisade is not someone I was attracted to or someone I ever thought I could have anything beyond friendship with. Ours was that type of boy-girl friendship that put proponents of “a man and a woman can never be friends” to shame.

Our friendship started right from university. We studied the same course and shared a desk for the four years in school. I never had any romantic feelings for her and she didn’t seem to have either. We both understood that we were always going to be just friends. I was her champion, the one who fought anyone who looked down on her. She had a bad case of Polio Mellitus as a child and so couldn’t walk without crutches. My friends would tease me to no end; they even gave me the nickname “Oko aro”. Most of the girls I dated had issues with our friendship but usually come around once they realize she wasn’t a threat and even make friends with her.

 

Boye was different however. She hated Bisade from the first time they met and would always call her a cripple. The label annoyed me and she knew it. I stopped complaining when I realized that the more I showed my displeasure at the term, the more she used it.

Bisade was only supposed to comfort me that day but even now I can’t seem to remember how things got out of hand. I just know they did and somehow we ended up having sex.

I felt dirty and soiled afterwards. We had been in such a hurry that we didn’t even remember to get naked. I had ended up with shiny pieces of her sequined dress glued to several parts of my body. It took an agonizing and guilt filled hour to get it off my skin. The mistake I made however was not getting it off my shirt and trouser and that was where Omoboye discovered them two weeks later. Shiny little snitches! Her question had been so gentle and direct that I couldn’t even think up a story fast enough and so I had told her the truth and made sure to blame it on her. She took it stoically then and I had been relieved.

That morning however I blamed myself for having a big mouth. I didn’t have to confess. I could have kept my mouth shut and retain the exclusive right to be indignant. Now not only did she have something to hold over me, my friendship with Bisade was also destroyed. I wouldn’t dare to even wave at her if there was a chance Omoboye will know.

 

 

***

Jite was even more withdrawn than the previous day. I knew he was sulking about my reference to his cripple. I knew what I was doing when I mentioned it. It was meant to remind him he wasn’t that holy either.

I hadn’t allowed myself to dwell so much on the issue. I willed myself to focus on making things better between us. I convinced myself that I deserve what happened. But that didn’t stop me from being pained. I don’t know what hurts most, that he cheated on me or that he did it with a cripple.

 

However I was ready to sheath my sword. I wanted us to show some warmth to each other. Zanzibar is a beautiful place. Somewhere I have always dreamt of going to. I had no desire to have an unhappy time there. Besides what’s a Honeymoon without Honey?

I watched as he sat up on the bed and decided to hug him. I am the woman here right? I should be the one to swallow my pride and reach out. Yes I aborted, I told him and he cheated. I should still overlook the cheating right? Forgive him and make the marriage work. I am sure Mom would agree with that.

I could almost hear her voice in my head.

“Omoboye, it’s a man’s world. If a man cheats on you, you forgive. Besides you caused it. If you had not done what you did, he would not have had reason to go to the girl.”

I went to sit beside him and hugged him. It was a one sided hug, his hands remained with him. I said “good morning husband”, he replied with a “gruff good morning wife” and disentangled himself from my embrace.

Ish. I tried. I murmured swinging my hips as I walked to the bathroom.

 

 

***

I hate flying, maybe because I am always scared about how the plane could easily crash. I glanced sideways at Jite; his face was still sporting a dark frown. I felt sad wondering how men could be so different from women.

Did it not occur to him that all this drama could end in a split second, that the plane could crash and we’ll both be gone forever. Did he not know that life was too short to live it in acrimony? My mind went to the crash that happened only months before. Who knows if one of the numerous couples that died in the crash had been fighting, how would they have felt when the plane developed problems, would they have quickly apologized to themselves, suddenly remember how much they love themselves and hug till death came?

Oh Omoboye stop thinking of death. I chided myself.

Think of Zanzibar, of sand, of beaches, of six course dinners under the stars, of belly dancers, of hammocks and beautiful nights spent entwined.

Static. It was hard to picture myself and Jite entwined without pink packets of condoms clouding my vision.

A wicked smile curved my lips as I thought of the condoms.

He would have a fit when he realizes they are gone. Tucked under the mattress where a lucky cleaner would find them.

There was no way I was going to have a condom filled honeymoon. Not when Mom’s threat that I had to get pregnant before our first anniversary still haunted me.

The idea had come out of the blues, no condom means I get pregnant and when I get pregnant, husband calms down. Everything goes back to normal and we live happily ever after. Whew! I thought a smug smile brightening my face as I placed my head on Jite’s shoulders.

* Boarding Tales is now on Okadabooks app. Click the image below to download for FREE

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