Not So Happily Married….Episode Thirteen

 

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No, I didn’t hear right. Boye is going to burst into laughter anytime now and spit in this liar’s face. I thought, glancing at Omoboye.

My face fell and I felt tears spring to my face at the look on her face. She looked ashamed, trapped, like she wished she could disappear.

“Is it true?” I asked.

She didn’t answer, she just darted furtive glances around the room.

Femi was sitting up, one hand was held to his bleeding lip, he looked smug, his eyes shone with mirth. The room was quiet; they must all be waiting for Boye’s response. I thought.

I looked at her too and shook my head at the way she pleaded with her eyes.

So she wants me to cover her shame and do this in private? Oh, well. I shrugged. I can do that as long as she explains. But I made a decision there and then. If it was true, then it would be the last issue we would have. I was going to walk out of the marriage.

I grabbed her hand and made for the elevator. She followed crying. Several whispers and chuckles trailed us as we walked out and at that moment I wanted to cry.

Why did I marry this woman?

I must have said it aloud because she increased the tempo of her cries.

******

This is it. Jite will divorce me. There is just no way around it. No sane man will want me after this. Yeah, this man loves me but seriously how much more can he take?

I sobbed as the elevator went up but started wailing when I heard him say “Why did I marry this woman”

He had never said that. At least I never heard him say it. Not even when we were neck deep in the abortion issue.

I wiped my tears when we entered the room. It was time to talk. I had no choice; my best kept secret was finally going to come out.

“Now start from the beginning and don’t hold anything back this time.” He said.

“Okay Jite. I promise I will tell you all.”

“Look at you. You know I really want to hate you now. I thought you were a Queen, I treated you like one, I thought you were decent.” He paused and I saw tears cascade down his cheeks.

My heart broke at his tears.  He doesn’t cry. He had told me severally that only weak men cry and that he was a real man who knew how to keep his tear ducts dry and grieve without wasting body fluids. Here he was, crying.

He sobbed for over three minutes and I engaged myself in a debate trying to decide on what to do.

Boye, move close to him, console him. Oh no. I can’t do that. This man is mad enough to slap me if I do.

Okay. Tell him you are sorry. Tell him what happened, that it wasn’t intentional and why you never told him. That won’t solve anything; it will sound like bull shit to him.

So what do you want to do? Allow him to finish crying and tell you to expect his lawyer?

No. Start crying too.

That was the option I took. Why didn’t I think of that earlier, why did I stop crying? Of course that’s the thing to do. Join him in the sobbing.

And so I started sobbing too. They were not fake tears; I was feeling real pain, pain that the nightmare was starting all over again, pain that I was making my husband hurt so bad, pain at the stories that were bound to show up in blogs and newspapers, pain that my life was totally out of my control.

My weeping got louder as images of what Femi referred to flashed across my eyes. Wounds I thought were healed reopened making my heart bleed the more.

I was licking my lips, kneading my breasts with one hand while rubbing my hair with the other. A recurring laughter resounded in my ears and when I wasn’t licking my lips, I was laughing too and then I was crying out from pleasure, sinking my fingers into his collar bone and tightening my thighs around his waist. Femi’s eyes was shuttered, his mouth open, strangled noises coming out of his mouth, and then suddenly we were both quiet, the laughter stopped, the moaning stopped, the silence was marred only by the splat splat sound of skin knocking against skin and then the sound of Femi’s cry as he came mixing with the farts that came out of me in succession. The combination was almost musical and made our lone audience to start laughing again.

“Omoboye, what is wrong with you? Are you fine?”

I heard his voice from somewhere far. I opened my eyes and felt him touching my fore head.

“Boye, what is it? What were you thinking of that made your eyes look like that?”

“I am fine.” I murmured looking into his eyes.

“You are not, you looked like you were about to pass out, like something was torturing your mind.”

“I want to forget it. I am not sure I am strong enough to talk about it yet.” I said

“You can forget about it after you have told me. I won’t let you hide whatever it is from me again.”

“What happened between you and Femi?”

“What did he do to you?”

“Jite, please I want to forget.” I said, placing my hands on his shoulder. “Help me forget, love me, I need to shake these images off. Please replace them. You may walk away after that. I won’t blame you, but please help shake these images off.”

*****

“No Boye. Snap out of this. Calm down and talk to me. What happened?”

“Give me a minute”; she said rushing to the bathroom. I heard her retching and debated whether to go in and check on her.

What’s wrong with her? Guilt? No. There had been something else in her eyes, fear? Pain? Regret? shame? anguish? …. and the way tears had been cascading down her face, the way her eyes had been wide open but unseeing …..was she acting? Is she even now composing a lie to tell me? No, that can’t be. Omoboye isn’t capable of that. Or is she?

“I am ready.” She announced when she entered the room.

She sat on the bed facing me and I couldn’t help noticing how pale her face was.

No, she is not acting. I decided. She has something to tell me and it would be the truth.

******

“What I am about to tell you is something I have always liked to think was a dream. I can’t even explain how I was able to convince myself that it was; I just know I push it back into the recesses of my mind every time I think of it.”

“Boye, quit the drama and say what you have to say.” He said, I could sense he was impatient and getting irritated too.

I nodded, then yanked the blanket off the bed and covered my body with it.

“Remember Dapo?”

“Your ex boyfriend. What about him?”

“Okay. It happened when I was dating him.”

“What?

“What I am about to tell you.”

“What are you about to tell me and how does it have anything to do with Dapo?”

“I will get to that. Please Jite, just allow me to explain. The only way I can explain it is by starting from the beginning.”

“Take your time then. I am all ears.”

“It was his birthday. That was July 5, 2004. We had just made up having recently broken up as we used to do every other month. This time, it had been because he cheated on me with one of my cousins. I had been determined that I wasn’t going to have anything to do with him again but he managed to change my mind. He told me, I was his conscience and his life would be destroyed without me. I felt like his messiah and so I accepted him back.”

“It was a small party; just a few friends and colleagues. I played the role of the supportive girlfriend; ensuring the guests ate to their satisfaction and that everything went on fine. Dapo had told me he wanted Femi to cover the event. Even then, Femi was quite expensive but I managed to convince him to do it as a favor for me.”

 “I was supposed to spend the night with him so I was still there when everyone started leaving. Femi wanted to leave when the party thinned out but Dapo said no, that he wanted him to do a photo shoot for us. I was excited and even thought that perhaps he was planning to propose.”

“I was naive and stupid.” I added in a low tone. I wasn’t looking at Jite’s face despite the fact that I could feel his on mine. I didn’t want to see what I was sure would be there. Disgust.

“So?” He asked, prompting me to continue.

“So we did the photo shoot. It was fun; Dapo was at his very best, attentive and very loving. I was in high spirits too still hopeful that a proposal was in the works. After the shoot, he brought out a bottle of wine, said it was the best and that he saved it for both of us but he would however love for Femi to join us. He poured a glass for the three of us and we took the drinks.”

“I didn’t know I was drugged, I just realized that after a while Femi and I got cuddly with Dapo encouraging us. I even remember asking Dapo if he wasn’t going to be annoyed if I kissed Femi and he replied me saying. “Why would I? I would love to see that”

Although I wasn’t looking at Jite, I could feel him perspiring.

“And then I kissed Femi, the rest is still a blur or maybe it feels like that because I always prevent my mind from thinking about it, I just remember I was acting like I was drunk only it was worse than being drunk, I was not in control of me, I was wanton, pushing myself against Femi and strange thing, he was responding too.”

“Stop. Boye. Please stop. That’s enough.”

******

I couldn’t listen anymore, yet I wanted to listen.

Who did I marry?

How come she had this sort of history and I never even had a clue. How did she manage to not mention this?

I wanted to cry, she wasn’t done but my mind knew whatever she still had to to say was going to hurt me more than what she had already said. I wanted to save myself the agony but still I felt like I needed to know everything.

She looked pale, sick even. I know whatever it was that she went through must have been traumatic but I needed to hear more. She shivered occasionally despite the fact that she was covered with a blanket and yet was sweating as much as I was.

“Continue, I need to hear more.”

****

“Somehow we started having sex.”

“You and who?”

“Myself and Femi. I didn’t know what I was doing; I just knew I was enjoying it. It was as if I stood and was watching my own body do those things. At that moment it felt like the only thing I ever wanted to do and not even seeing Dapo sitting on an arm chair laughing and blowing on his cigarette changed my mood. He was there throughout and even cheered us on at some point and then when Femi was done, he took over.”

“Oh my God! No.” Jite screamed standing up for the first time since he entered the room.

“Those bastards, did you report to the police? Of course, you didn’t. Why am I asking? But why Boye, why didn’t you lodge a complaint? Was it because you enjoyed it? Ehn.?”

“Ehn, was it because you enjoyed it?” He repeated shaking me with his hands. His touch was painful but that wasn’t what made me cry, I cried because I could see my marriage crumble before my eyes.

“Stop it Jite. You think I stood a chance? Do you think I even wanted to go through the trauma of letting everyone know what happened? It wasn’t until later that I even knew I had been drugged and it wasn’t just me. Femi too.”

“The next morning, Dapo sat us down and laughing at the bewildered look on our faces told us he drugged us both with Ecstasy and when I asked why, he said something that haunts me to this day.”

“You are too good for your own good Omoboye. You need to do bad from time to time. I hate your sanctimonious guts, I always have.”

That wasn’t all, he said he hated that I always made him feel so guilty for cheating on me and for not being a good boyfriend and that I always reminded him of the sacrifices I made for him and how he was my first and only.

He said:

“Boye, I needed to spoil you, At least now, you can’t say I am the only one you have slept with anymore.  I needed to make you have something on your conscience too”. He said he tried to push me into cheating too but I was too wrapped up in self righteousness to even cheat if only for revenge.”

“And then, he apologized to Femi saying he was just an unfortunate pawn. You needed to be there Jite to see the smug look on his face, to see the……”

My voice broke at that point and for the first time in six years I allowed myself to relive and mourn those moments.

****

I wanted to commit murder. Any resentment I felt towards Omoboye was gone replaced with a fierce sense of protectiveness.

“Boye, why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me?”

“How could I? I needed you to see me as me not as a victim of abuse. I needed you to love me, I wasn’t sure you would still love me if you knew all that happened. Besides the closer we got, the harder it was to tell.”

“Was Femi aware of his plans?”

“No, he was a victim like me. Dapo likes playing silly games just for the fun of it. He wanted to make me pay for always making him look like the bad guy and for leaving him so he wooed me back with the intention of punishing me.”

“I am going to kill the bastard.”

“God forbid. You won’t be a killer.”

“No, I am not a killer but he is going to die. I swear by my late father’s head. He is a dead man.”

“No, Jite please don’t say that. I have left him to God. All that matters to me right now is that you are not so angry with me anymore.”

“God, I can’t believe you went through something like this. But why will that idiot say that about you knowing what happened was not something you did in your right senses, which brings me to another question, why did you continue to work with him?”

“I really don’t know why Femi has been the way he is since we got here but I think he said what he said because he wanted to hurt me for telling you and he probably was jealous that we were still cool with each other in spite of the fact that I told you.”

“I guess.” Jite replied, shrugging.

“As to working with Femi, I didn’t really have a choice. As you know after we did the beauty magic competition in which our pieces were both chosen, one of the terms of the prize and our contract was that we had to work together whenever beauty magic had their beauty pageants/fashion shows which is every two months. So basically despite what happened I knew I was stuck with him for the five years of our contract but I could have cut ties with him after that but somehow we got past it and managed to keep up a professional relationship. He never acted inappropriately; we never even talk about it as he had been mortified about it as well.”

“But he must have been nursing some feelings for you. It’s the only explanation for what he did tonight. Anyway, I want you to enter the bathroom now and take a shower. Rest well because we will be leaving for Lagos very early tomorrow morning. There is a business I need to take care of.”

Perhaps, it was something about the way he said the “there is a business I need to take care of”. I just knew it had something to do with Dapo. I didn’t say anything, I just resolved to stay close to him and ensure he does nothing stupid.

When I came out of the bathroom, he was still sitting in the same spot, staring ahead.

“He is the one who impregnated Boladale”. I said before I could stop myself.

 “He basically used that girl too, looking back now I am thinking he might have even used Ecstacy on her too.” I added wondering why it never occurred to me before.

“Tell me what he did to her. Everything.”

When I was done, he said;

“Another reason for the bastard to die.”

PS: Should we kukuma allow Dapo to die?

photo credit:google images

Not So Happily Married ……. Episode Twelve

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I could almost hear my heart beat in my chest. How long had he been standing there? He couldn’t have seen anything, could he? If he had seen us, he wouldn’t stand here with that needy look on his face.

Oh God, what is wrong with me? Why am I not rushing into his arms, kissing him and telling him how much I wanted us to settle our issues?

“Boye, please be rational.” I heard him say.  My vision blurred at his words, my eyes clouded with unshed tears.

What have I become? I thought, leaning against a door. Why am I so confused, so disoriented?

“Boye”. I heard him call. He was close to me now,  the scent of his body spray teasing my nostrils.

“Things are not the way you think they are, that’s why I am here, to end this anguish for us both.”

“Did you have to come? You didn’t have to.”

“Errrm”  Someone cleared his throat. It was Femi. I had forgotten he was there. Jite and I glanced at him.

“Boye, I will be going downstairs to join the others. I think you should talk to your husband but if you are bent on throwing him out, I will be here. That’s a joke.” he added at Jite’s startled look.

I watched him leave, his words echoing in my head. “If you are bent on throwing him out, I will be here”

Is that what I have been doing? Throwing him out? Does Femi now say such things to me?

“Let’s find somewhere to sit Boye.”

I led the way to my room and he followed.

*****

I am not a saint. Omoboye’s behavior was infuriating me and I wanted to do what my head was telling me. Turn back and look for an ATM machine to withdraw money from.

But I felt I had to do the best that I can to salvage our marriage. Heck! We hadn’t even done six months and we already looked and sounded like a marriage counselor’s nightmare.

I followed her to her room thinking of Femi’s remark. What did he mean by he was there for her? Was he planning to take advantage of Boye? I felt my fists clench at the thought. Would he dare? They were friends, they work together. That was all I knew, so what was that comment about? I didn’t want to dwell on such unpleasant things and decided to focus on Boye and the things we need to discuss.

I took in the room, “great place.” I said just to break the silence.

“Yeah.”

“The whole place is so peaceful and quiet.”

“Yeah.”

Okay, this is going nowhere. I thought.

“Omoboye, let’s talk.”

“Okay”.

“First thing, I am sorry for not telling you about Skipper. I will like to do that now.”

“Not yet Jite.” She said.

“I am going to faint if I don’t say what’s on my mind now. I feel so guilty and dirty. I just have to say it.”

My heart constricted at her words. I swallowed the saliva that instantly pooled in my mouth, my hands shook in dread. She feels guilty and dirty, she feels guilty and dirty…….why would she feel guilty and dirty? I felt a faint headache starting as I said the words over and over in my head

****

If we were going to talk, we might as well bare it all. I had made up my mind I was going to open up to him only that the decision was easier to make when he wasn’t there, seeing him face to face , it was hard to talk.

But still, things had to change and there was never going to be a good time. He needed to hear everything and then he could decide if he still wanted me.

“Jite” I began pausing as I saw the fear on his face.

Oh my God, he knows already and it scares him. But I felt compelled to say it.

“Jite, Femi touched me.”

“Oh Lord”. He whimpered burying his head in his palms.

“It wasn’t a touch touch like that. It’s not what you think.”

****

“So what kind of touch was it?” I asked raising my head up.

“I was upset, I was crying and then he was trying to comfort me.”

“In the room?”

“No, Jite, we were outside, just by the door. I didn’t even plan to cry, the tears just started flowing when he asked why I was without make up and if I was having problems with my husband.”

“He was hugging me, consoling me and then he placed his hands on my bum.”

She paused.

“And….”?

“And nothing Jite, nothing. I stood there, I didn’t flinch, I didn’t remove his hands, I didn’t say he should remove it, I did nothing, not for several minutes and that’s why I hate myself so much right now. How could I stand there and do nothing? I have always imagined myself as the kind of girl that took no nonsense, as the type nobody except my husband could touch. But Jite, I let Femi touch me. I don’t know who I am again. I find it hard to recognize me.”

I said nothing. I just stared into space for several seconds.

“So where were you going ?” I asked

“He said there was this sightseeing organized by some of the guests. He wanted us to go too.”

“I see.”

“What else were you going to just stand there and let him do?”

“Nothing. I swear. He offered to take me back inside the room so we can talk but I said no.”

“The bastard.” I said through clenched teeth.

So Femi is one of those people I have heard about all my life. The Lizards who stand around waiting for cracks in a marriage’s walls so they can sneak in, and to think my wife just stood there and allowed another man touch her backside. My own property, the one I was supposed to be the only one that ever touched.

Easy Jite, don’t be too hard on her, remember why you are really here and be grateful that it didn’t get worse than that and above all be thankful that she told you.

“Anyway, I am grateful that you told me this Boye”. I said placing a hand on her exposed knee.

“I know you very well or at least I think I do. I know you are not the wayward type and I will like to believe that you won’t cheat on me. So I am not going to dwell on what happened between you and Femi. All I will say is you won’t be working with him ever again. I think as your husband. I can still say that right? I am still your husband or aren’t I?”

****

“Yes Jite. You are my husband.” I said warmth filling me and removing some of the guilt that I felt.

I don’t know if it was the hand that he placed on my knee or hearing myself call him husband but I was suddenly so aware of him. I smiled at him, my heart open and ready to make peace as my mind visualized a night of passion.

“Alright then Boye, so we are done with that. Now to the Skipper issue, I am sorry I didn’t tell you about her.”

“Did you read the note I gave you in your Mum’s house?”

“I don’t think I did. I didn’t. I hope I have not misplaced it though because I can’t even remember where I placed it.”

“Don’t sweat it. What I wrote there was that Bisade is not pregnant for me and that I am sorry once again about what happened with her. Right now, I am hoping you would forgive me totally. I know you still harbor hurt in your heart and that’s why you can’t trust me. I can’t blame you too much. It’s only human but Boye, we need trust if this is going to work. We can’t keep doing this or we would have to dissolve this marriage.”

“God forbid. Anyway, God will only forbid if Skipper’s pregnancy is not yours.” I added searching his face.

“No baby. I dated Skipper years ago. I am sorry I didn’t tell you about her, she was someone I wanted to forget. It was a turbulent relationship, she was not only a sex addict, she also had Borderline personality disorder, she was clingy, controlling too. It was more than I could handle. I just wanted to forget that one year of my life.

“Yet, you kept her pictures…”.

“I know it’s crazy to keep them, but I am the kind of person who finds it hard to trash pictures, messages or any other thing that connects me to someone. Even if I have forgotten that they exist.”

“So where did you meet her? School?”

“During NYSC.”

“Oh!….so she is the weirdo you once mentioned that you dated during service. The one you said got a nick name that had to do with a skipping rope just because she had an uncanny ability to skip classes and still pass.”

“The very one.”

“Oh! Oh my God!” I covered my mouth as the pieces fell into place.

“So that was why I thought the name was familiar.”

“You know she called the morning after we made love all night. That was back in Zanzibar. You were sleeping and you asked me to check who was calling you. I did and I saw Skipper and felt the name sounded familiar. Somehow I saw a text she sent to you where she said she loved you and had something to discuss with you, something that was very urgent. I decided to assume that it was Bisade’s name that you stored as Skipper.”

“Are you serious? So that’s why your behavior changed; I kept worrying about what it could be. Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“I don’t know. I just couldn’t. I also deleted the message and the call record and I felt ashamed afterwards and couldn’t tell you because of that.”

“You see why we need to talk to each other. To think you were obsessing over someone that means nothing to me.”

“Jite, you know this is so funny.” I said putting a hand to my mouth to suppress laughter.

“What’s funny?”

“As in I am a joke. I kept looking for flaws in her; a pimple, darkened knees or something and yet she had all of these issues and looking at her you wouldn’t know.”

“Yes, you wouldn’t. At least not until she opens her mouth.”

****

She was smiling. I felt all the tension in me ebb away. I stood up from the couch, pulled her up and embraced her.

“Jite, hold on.” She said sighing.

“We are not done”.

“Okay. What else is on your mind?”

“I think I may never be able to conceive.”

“And why would you think that?”

“It’s just a gut feeling that I have. Besides I have had enough time to take in since we got married.”

“Relax Omoboye. No need to worry. I want children, I am not going to pretend that I don’t but the fact remains that I want you more than I want children so not having them won’t change what I feel for you. It was part of the things I wrote in that note. Children or not, I will still love you. Worst case scenario, we will adopt children. I keep thinking that there are several children out there praying to God for a mummy and daddy, we could be the answer to their prayers especially if we can’t have ours.”

“Jite….hmmmm….are you sure? Because all these things are easier said than done ooo especially since we both know this is my fault. ”

“Shhh, Boye. Don’t go into that”

“You see. It still hurts you to think about it, so you are pushing the thoughts away.”

“No Boye. You are not entirely right. True, it hurts that we might have been parents by now but I am willing to let go of all of that and see what the future holds.”

“Jite, I just hope that future holds something positive because Mum promised to make my life a living hell if I don’t have a protruding stomach or a baby by our anniversary.”

I laughed out at her words.

“Are you for real?”.                                                                                                                             

“Yes , she said plenty things o about how she will make sure the whole world knows what I did and how my life will be miserable. Really scary things o”

“There is no problem baby. Your mum can’t cry more than the bereaved. Besides who says anything is wrong with you. It’s still early days Boye. We haven’t even been married six months yet. I need you to get over the paranoia and just relax or we could go for a test just to know if everything is okay.”

“Why does that sound so scary Jite?”

“Don’t be scared. Like I said earlier, I will still love you, Children or no Children”.

“Oh Jite, I don’t deserve you.” She said sitting on my laps and wrapping her arms around my neck.

“No, baby. I think we deserve each other. We are both crazy”.

*****

“I think I am the crazier one here Jite.” I said pressing against him.

“Well, since you insist, I  have to agree that you are the crazier one.”

“Something about us is odd, Jite. I feel like we always do this and then we go back to our quarrels.”

“You mean we always make up somewhere out of our own house and then not long after something else happens that takes us back to where we started.”

“Exactly!”

“So what do you suggest? That we stop making up?”

“I don’t know Jite. I am just tired of our wahala.” She said frowning.

I laughed at her words and tickled her ribs till she joined in the laughter.

“I have a suggestion.” I said when we stopped laughing.

“I think we should do a vow renewal.”

“No. Jite. That’s a no no. Vow renewal when our marriage is not even up to a year?”

“It doesn’t matter; even if it’s two days into marriage. What matters is we know why we want to do it. You and I know our wedding day vows weren’t exactly heartfelt. We know our wedding was just a show for our guests.”

“You are right though. So the vow renewal will be like the one where we say our heartfelt vows right? I think I like the idea.”

“I knew you would. We will organize something small, invite some of our friends and do it. No priests, no dressing up, just two souls baring their hearts to one another.”

“Won’t our friends suspect that something is wrong with our marriage?”

“Do you care if they do? Boye, we need to start paying less attention to what people think. Let them think what they will so long as we are happy.”

“Okay then. But I don’t agree with the no dressing up thing oo. Whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing well and so we are going to make it a grand party”.

“Seriously, Omoboye, I want  a small party.”

“Leave story jare husband and kiss me. Kiss me like your very life depends on it, then I want you to make love to me, do it like I am this bad girl that you want to set straight, like you want to punish me for all the stress I have been putting you through.”

“You have been watching porn?” I asked before shutting her up with my mouth.

*****

Sometimes you think you know what your husband can or can’t do and then he shocks you by doing the unexpected.

The time for Dinner came and we went down. We were all over each other, basking in the afterglow of great sex. I made sure we sat at a table far apart from everyone else. I wanted to avoid Femi as much as I could and hoped that he would do the same.

For a long time, we ate our dinner in relative seclusion. We were undisturbed save for the occasional one or two people who came around to chat with us. Femi was the last person I wanted to see, I still felt some shame for allowing him to touch me the way he did  and so I was very uncomfortable when he walked up to our table.

“Hello Mr&Mrs, you guys seem cozy; everything cool in conjugal land now?”

And then Jite spoke through clenched teeth.

“Femi, excuse us please.”

“Sorry to bother you. I was only being nice.”

Femi looked sincere as he spoke and I could have been fooled if I hadn’t recognized the mischievous glint in his eyes. Jite wasn’t impressed either.

“Thank you Femi, we appreciate your niceness. Now excuse us.”

“What’s with the attitude? Is it my fault that you guys are having problems?”

He said that aloud and my eyes darted around the room desperate to see if anyone was taking notice. They were; several pairs of eyes were trained on our table.

“No, it’s not your fault.” Jite replied. “But let me warn you, the next time you as much as lay a finger on my wife, you would wish you were never born.”

I fixed my eyes on Jite, my heart doing flip flops. I had never seen him that angry. His fists were clenched, there was saliva hanging at the far end corners of his mouth.

“Jite, please ignore him.” I pleaded. “Let’s not cause a scene.”

“Baby, stay out of this.”

“Wow, wow! Such honesty amongst couples. This is so cute.” Femi said.

“But Omoboye seriously? I can’t believe you told him about our small adventure this afternoon. Makes me wonder if you also told him about how I use to ram you so hard, you farted for …….”

He didn’t finish the sentence before Jite’s fist shut him up.

I was mortified. I wanted the ground to open and swallow me up. I still don’t know the one that affected me most; the shocked look on the faces of the other diners, the damage that Jite’s fist did to Femi’s mouth, the clicks of cameras as  pictures were taken or the look of excruciating pain on Jite’s face as he turned towards me.

P S: Ladies, do you think Boye should have told Jite about the bom bom incident? Do you think she would have been better off not talking?

 I find it hard to make up my mind on whether it’s better to hold back some things or spill all .

Not So Happily Married ….. Episode Eleven

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PLEASE CLICK HERE FOR PREVIOUS EPISODES

I never speed while driving, it’s a personal decision. I had vowed to myself after my father lost his life in a motor accident that nothing will make me speed or drive rough. But that afternoon, I ignored my vows and drove like someone who was being chased. I wanted to meet my wife at home if that was where she went to.

I would have been on time if not because I had decided to obey the traffic light on the highway just before my estate. I was driving in through one gate when I saw Femi’s car drive out of the other.

I parked, ran out and started yelling my wife’s name. There was no way she would hear but yelling made me feel better.

So she is going to Calabar. I thought. She had told me about the event earlier but had said she wasn’t interested in going.  I didn’t need to wonder what made her change her mind; I just didn’t understand how she could be so irrational.

Another woman would stay to ask questions, get angry or throw tantrums. Why do you always abandon me instead Boye? I muttered.

I decided to try her number again. I waited for it to ring, I willed it to ring, I begged it to not give the same not reachable message I had been getting while driving down but it wasn’t my lucky day.

“I have to go to Calabar too.” I decided

“Okay, relax first Jite.” I told myself. “Why on earth will you want to go to Calabar? For what na?”

“What will I be doing here? My life is going to be empty without Omoboye. The fact that we might not even talk throughout her stay there will only make me more miserable.”

“Oh my God, you sound pathetic.” I chided myself

“Is this what marriage does to people. Does marriage make an adult male so dependent, so wimpish or is it just that I have a problem?”

“Why did I get married, why did I marry Omoboye? Is this what the rest of my life will be like?

“Things do not have to remain this way” I said continuing my soliloquy.  “You are the man here. You can take charge. You need to make her know she can’t just walk out on you whenever she feels like it. Go to your house, take a bath, go out with your friends, go clubbing, do whatever. Just have fun. When she comes back, don’t allow her in until she begs. In fact pack her bags for her, let her meet them in the hallway.”

I laughed at my own words thinking one of my ancestors must have taken over my mind for a minute. Throw her bags out? Who does that these days?

Here is what you will do. I will swallow my pride and take the next available flight to Calabar. I will go to my wife, sit her down and force her to say everything on her mind.

With that, I started the car.

 

*****

I saw his car when we were driving out, I could have told Femi to stop the car. I think I wanted to only I didn’t. I knew I could quit the drama and demand explanations but I was growing fond of taking time apart when we have issues. It seemed like an easier way. 

Femi and I got to Tinapa late in the afternoon. Our flight which should have been for 12 P.M was delayed for an extra two hours for reasons we were left to imagine.

It wasn’t my first time in Tinapa but still I mouthed a “wow” upon entering the resort. My room overlooked the Sea and I thought of how much more beautiful it would be if Jite were around. Funny how I always think of him when I am having a good time. I thought.IMG-20120215-00573

The event slated for that day was over by the time we got there but we were still able to meet up with some key people in the industry. I couldn’t concentrate on anything, I just kept thinking of my husband. Why did I even leave Lagos? I wondered. Why didn’t I just talk to Jite?

It’s still Jite ooo, the guy that forgave me for killing his baby. Why didn’t I just hear him out? Who knows, maybe Skipper’s baby is not even his after all.

That would be nice to know wouldn’t it? I didn’t want to think of Skipper’s pregnancy because it only reminded me of my own failure to take in. Several thoughts had been running at the back of my mind; thoughts that perhaps I had damaged my womb. It even crossed my mind that perhaps, I was destined to have one child and I had wasted my only chance. I had Nollywood and the movies where they try to make us believe there was one place where you choose the number of children you would have to thank for that. But I kept pushing the negative thoughts back.

I think I should call him. I decided switching on my phone.

 

*****

There are days when it would seem like everything on earth conspired to make your life miserable. That day was one of such. I needed cash; I had more than I needed in my account only I couldn’t access my money. Every ATM that I checked had the same story to tell. “Issuer or switch inoperative” From the little I know, I understood it could only mean there was a problem with my bank’s network. I also knew things could remain that way for the rest of the day but still I had to go to Calabar. I had 5000 naira on me and I was sure there was no way I could get to Calabar with that. I thought of driving to my Mum’s place for help but decided I had to solve the problem on my own.

I drove back to the house confident that there would be some money lying around. Omoboye is a cash person, she doesn’t believe in using her ATM card although she has one. She believes that having cash at hand was still the most reliable way.

I checked the places where I knew she kept money and was glad to find an envelope which contained 15000 naira. It wasn’t much but at least I was sure of having enough to take a flight down. I told myself it was risky to depend on the fact that Omoboye would be there and I could share her hotel room.

Her phone has been switched off for a long time now, what if she intends to leave it that way? What if you can’t get through, where will you sleep?

The University of Calabar’s campus, the hotel lobby, the airport….anywhere. I replied myself with false confidence.

 

******

 

The text message from Boladale came in while I was trying to call Jite. She said something about how she finally found the courage to tell the father of her baby (my ex) that she was pregnant and that she had given him an ultimatum of seven days to tell his wife or she would. She ended the text message with “wish me luck babe”.

I did wish her luck only it was the negative type. Who is this new Boladale? I thought wondering how I didn’t know what she was capable of. Why would she want him to tell her? What does she hope to achieve?

But isn’t it better that she knows? A tiny voice whispered in my head

Is it? I replied myself wondering if I would want to know. It was easy to put myself in the shoes of my ex’s wife. I believed I was going through something similar too.

Do I really want to know If Skipper’s pregnancy is for Jite? I knew the answer was NO, a part of me would rather not hear the truth and I knew that was why I ran. I was afraid of hearing that he was responsible after all.

But you can’t run forever Boye; sooner or later you will have to face these issues.

I knew that and some part of me was ready to talk to Jite but his phone stayed unavailable.

 

****

I thought of Skipper all through the flight. What game is she playing? She is pregnant but still won’t leave me alone. What on earth does she want? I kept sighing. I was restless and uncomfortable despite the fact that the flight was a smooth one.

I thought of sending her a text message that read

 “Samantha Nkiruka Ofure Ismail, what do you want from me?”

 She was a contradiction just like her name. Born to an Edo/Igbo mother and a Fulani father, she had also been exposed to all three cultures. As with her physical beauty, that should have meant a beautiful character and mind but for the fact that something had twisted her. Sometimes I would wonder if it was because she had been raped by their house help when she was Eleven, other times I would think that perhaps it was because she had once been in an abusive relationship that lasted several years but most of the time I would conclude that it was most likely a combination of the two. Her parents had refused to prosecute the boy claiming their decision was to protect her; she had never forgiven them or herself for it. The boyfriend, a cultist did not only abuse her body and mind, he also made her participate in their initiation orgies.

After hearing about all she went through, it had been easy to understand why she was so addicted to sex and why despite having a gorgeous body, she had no respect for it. I did feel sorry for her and on some level wanted to help her heal but I knew I wasn’t that man. I didn’t have the patience and neither did I love her enough

I ruminated on her pregnancy thinking perhaps if the father of the baby decides to accept her she would leave me alone. I had not been too surprised when she had told me on her third call that she was pregnant and who she was pregnant for. She claimed the baby’s father wasn’t ready to accept her pregnancy and she didn’t care if he did or did not. I knew that was a lie, she had always been searching for acceptance and love. I could sense that not getting it was the reason she was bent in making my own life miserable.

Perhaps she thinks if she couldn’t be happy, I shouldn’t be also. But that was strange too. I thought of another text message I could send her but I knew I wouldn’t dare. I thought of saying. “Skipper, why don’t you just hunt the guys that messed up your life and ruin theirs? Why don’t you just leave me and my wife the hell alone?”

 

******

Femi called at 5pm that day that dinner was at 8.00pm and that he had arranged with some other guys for us to go sightseeing by 5.30pm. I wasn’t interested in anything and had even started contemplating leaving for Lagos early the next morning.  I asked him where we would be going and he mentioned the Calabar slave museum, the sea port and that we were also going to take a boat ride.  They all sounded exciting especially the slave museum part. I had once been told that it would blow my mind. Although I didn’t feel like doing anything at all; I told him I would be ready.

All I wanted to do was put the lights off and bury my head in a pillow. The room was perfect for such, with the lush furniture and the magnificent ambience; I could enjoy being depressed there only I was sure it was designed for happy things. I could imagine it as a love nest and that made me miss Jite more. Tomorrow morning I will be out of here. I decided. I need to talk to my husband about everything; my fears that I couldn’t trust him ever, my fears that I might be infertile.

 

****

I got to Tinapa around 5.15pm, I was scared for myself. I had just 5000 naira left on me. I knew there was no way I would get a hotel that cheap in the resort. Omoboye’s line was still not going. I didn’t know the name of the program she came for but I trudged on hoping that there won’t be so many things going on in the resort. It was deserted in a way that I liked. I had expected it to be busy and was pleased that it wasn’t, not only because it would make it easier to find Omoboye but also because it made it my ideal place for a vacation. Refreshing view of nature, clean fresh air just what I believe every Lagosian needed from time to time.

I asked for directions and was pointed in the way of the hotel where the participants of the beauty products exhibition were lodged. I summoned courage and walked up to the front desk.

“Hello madam.” I said ensuring that I sounded confident.

“Hello, you are welcome.” She said smiling. Good customer service. I filed that away as another reason to come on vacation later.

“Thank you lady. Errrm, my wife is here and I can’t get through to her right now. Her number is not reachable. We came to Calabar together but I had to take care of some business in town first. You see she is part of the beauty products exhibition thing and I decided to accompany her thinking we should make this a weekend getaway of some sort. The thing now is I need to know the room where she is.”

“I am sorry I can’t give you that information. It’s against our regulations. I would love to help in any other way. You could sit at the reception and keep trying her number.

I murmured thanks and proceeded to the reception. I made myself busy with the magazines there and also kept looking out for anybody who might know Omoboye.

“Hello there, aren’t you Omoboye’s husband? She didn’t say you were around. I also came in with my hubby. It’s our first time being in Calabar.”

Excited, I stood up to greet the speaker. I couldn’t remember her but was sure I must have met her somewhere. All that was unimportant, what mattered was someone knew who I was and had seen Omoboye.

“Quite a long time.” I replied smiling and giving her a warm hand shake.

“We didn’t actually come in together; I took another flight because I had to take care of some things before leaving Lagos.”

“Oh okay.”

“I am so happy to see you. I am in a fix here. My wife’s phone line is not going through and I don’t know what room she is in.”

“Oh, that is not a problem at all.  I can get that for you. I am in charge of logistics so I have a schedule of where everybody is. Let’s see.” She added opening the folder in her hands. “Your wife is on the fourth floor. Room 40B. “

“Thank you so very much ma. I am grateful.”

“It’s Sholape. I guess you’ve forgotten the name. You came along with Boye to our anniversary party last December and I was at your wedding too.”

“Oh, I am so sorry. I am very poor at remembering names and faces.”

“It’s no problem sir.”

“Thank you very much.” I said taking brisk steps towards the elevator.

 

****

It was 5.25pm. I was ready, I expected Femi to knock any minute. I sat in the darkened room running my palms over my dress. The dress I wore was something I wouldn’t have worn to an outing back home not to talk of an outing with the top shots in the beauty industry. Do I have to go? I wondered. Yes you have to. You have to leave this darkness and have some fun.

I opened the door immediately Femi knocked.

“No makeup?” He asked the moment he saw me walk out.

“Yes, Femi no makeup. Woman shall not live by makeup alone.”

“Hmmmm….. That’s strange coming from someone who makes up when going for a swim.”

“I’ve wanted to ask you this; what’s wrong with you? Are you and your husband having problems? There has been something about you all day, something dark and melancholy.”

“Femi, leave the poetry. Let’s go.”

“No, Boye talk to me. We are friends right?” He asked tilting my chin upwards.

“I can’t.” I whimpered feeling tears spring to my eyes before I could stop them.

“Its okay.” he said drawing me close.

I snuggled up to him and allowed him to comfort me.

“Stop crying Omoboye. We could go in and talk about it.”

“No.”

“Stop crying please”, he said rubbing my back and laying a hand on my buttocks.

I paused wanting to slap it off but I didn’t; at least not for several seconds. For some strange reason it felt good lying there.

“Let’s go.” I said breaking the contact after several seconds.

“We don’t have to go. “

“Femi, we either leave now or I go back into my room and lock myself in.”

 

*****

Omoboye’s dress was the first thing I saw as I entered the fourth floor. She said she hated this dress, why is she wearing it? I thought. It warmed my heart to see her in the dress. It was my gift to her for her last birthday before we got married and she had said it wasn’t good enough for her taste.

I stood at the elevator entrance and watched her walk down the lobby.

Femi saw me first.

He tapped her and pointed at me.

I smiled rushing towards her to give her a hug.

“Jite, what are you doing here?” She asked stepping aside to avoid my hug.

“Omoboye, I wanted to see you, I wanted us to talk.”

“And who said we can’t do that when I get back? I think you should leave.” She added.

 

 photo credit: Toyinfabs’ Album

 

Not So Happily Married ……. Episode Ten

Hi All,

We have done Ten episodes so far. I can hardly believe this. That means TEN WEEKS. Wow! Thank you for being here every week. I love you. Mwaaaah.

This Episode is dedicated to my brand new Nephew. Mobolaji Oluwadamisi Omoikudu Daniel-Bello. Aunty Toyin loves you so very much. May God always be your strength and shield. Amen.

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        PLEASE CLICK HERE FOR PREVIOUS EPISODES

She walked towards me with her arms outstretched and combined with the smile on her face; you would think I was her long lost sister.

So this calls for a hug? I asked myself as she wrapped her hands around me. Still smiling she drew back and inspected me from head to toe.

She turned to Jite when she was done. He was still looking angry but she acted like she didn’t notice.

“Jite, you picked a very pretty one this time.” She said giving him what looked to me like an intimate smile.

That is it. I am done. I thought clenching my teeth. Who told her she could date my man behind my back and still act patronizing?

“Jite, I am leaving, I will see you later.” I said walking away.

I didn’t look back to see his expression but if he had called my name I would have heard.

******

You would think I was dumb. I didn’t say a word throughout the encounter, not even when Omoboye walked away. Skipper left right after Omoboye did giving me a jubilant look before she entered her car.

Is our marriage jinxed? I thought as I sat back inside the car. Why is it that every time we make some progress something happens that reverses it all? The weekend was supposed to be spent in relaxation. We were supposed to talk and sort all our issues but then Skipper decided to show up. How did she even know where we were? I wondered. Was she tailing me? It wasn’t something that was beyond her. She was psychotic enough to do worse.

Skipper! She was someone I had hoped Omoboye would never meet. She was someone I never wanted to have anything to do with. Again.

We met during my one year National Youth Service. I was determined to marry her and have three kids with her all in the first five minutes that we met. It was a classic case of Infatuation at first sight even though at that time I thought it was Love. I had been standing under the sun for hours waiting to be registered for the orientation camp and there were just about ten more people before it would be my turn when this lady walked up to me pleading with her eyes that she would like to enter the space in front of me. It wasn’t like she needed to plead, I was taken already just by looking into her eyes. Who wouldn’t? Not with her kind of looks. She had the kind of face, frame, skin and body that you get when you mix Edo, Igbo and Fulani genes.

I didn’t even think it through; I just motioned for her to get in. It didn’t matter that I had to contend with the other people on the queue especially the females. I made feeble attempts to make up a story about how she had been there before but the looks they shot me said they understood why I couldn’t say no.

I stayed glued to her even after registration. I was the dude who took her bags to the female hostel, the one who ensured that she got two buckets of clean water every day. I also took her feeding as my responsibility. She didn’t like the food served in the dining hall. She said it wasn’t up to standard, I agreed with her. She was too beautiful to eat the kind of food they served and so I took care of breakfast, lunch, dinner and the snacks and drinks she took whenever we were on the parade ground. She rewarded me with her attention; we spent almost every free time together. We wouldn’t go to our respective hostels even after the bells for lights out had been rung. We would remain entwined in one of the numerous dark corners until a Soldier chanced upon us or sleep became too hard to hold.

She wanted me to make love to her the first day we met. I declined. I believed she was too beautiful for that. I told her she was a delicious dish that one was meant to savor. She didn’t seem too happy about that and by the third day she threatened to give her attention to other guys who needed it. And so I obliged her even though I would have preferred that we do it on a regular bed. We had to make do with the parade ground and concrete floors. That first day and on subsequent days she brought a wrapper along from her hostel room which we spread on the floor or field whenever we wanted to make love. I told her how I felt, but she laughed it off saying we weren’t the only ones after all. I felt she was more beautiful and classier than all those other girls and I told her so but still it made no difference. That was when I started hearing the alarm bell that must have been ringing the moment she started pestering me for sex. What kind of girl does not mind being slept with on a parade ground? But I ignored my fears and we continued our escapades.

It wasn’t until we got posted to the same ministry and we started living together that I realized she was a sex addict. Skipper just had to have sex; nothing could stand in her way. Not menstrual periods, not fasting, not Malaria or Typhoid, not even having an audience. Nothing. I couldn’t keep up and wanted to break the relationship but I couldn’t not after she told me she had borderline personality disorder and could commit suicide if I left her. So I was stuck with her for the rest of the service year. I was ecstatic as NYSC drew to an end especially after she told me her parents wanted her to go for her Masters programme in Cyprus.

We parted on the passing out parade ground. She made me promise I was going to call her every day. I made the promise and a host of others that I had no intention of keeping. I liked her a lot, she was and is still very beautiful but she was much more than I could handle. She however wouldn’t let me be. She became my official stalker, I had to close my Facebook account and even change my email address because of her but still she always had a way to get in touch. She would use my Mom, friends and anyone else that could give her access to me. That went on for two years and then there was silence. Three years of silence. No calls, no mails. Nothing, until the day Omoboye and I got back from Zanzibar.

My heart had skipped a beat when I saw “Incoming call from Skipper” on my phone. I was never going to delete her number; I wanted to always know it was her calling so I could ignore the call. But that day I picked it and then she screamed my name saying how glad she was to have found me again. I didn’t ask why she had to call after I had given thanks to God that she was gone forever. She apologized for not keeping in touch for so long saying that after her Masters programme she took up a humanitarian job in Asia, something that had to do with educating children in remote villages. So why did you leave the needy children of Asia or did you just wake up one morning and realized there were children with greater needs in Africa? I wanted to ask her that but I didn’t instead I asked why she was calling.

“Jite that hurts me; you shouldn’t be asking me that. You are the only man I have ever loved and you know that. It wasn’t like I ever forgot you, I thought of you all the time and when I got back I wanted to call but I decided it wasn’t time yet. But then a few days ago, I was quite bored and I decided to check a blog that a friend told me about. Going through the blog, I saw a link about some popular make up artist’s wedding and when I opened the link I saw you Jite.”

She said the last few words in a pained voice. I knew what was coming even before it started.

“Why Jite? Why would you marry another woman? That should have been me you were holding Jite. We had so much promise. But anyway let’s leave all that. I think I am over it now, although I cried for hours after seeing your wedding pictures, but I am fine really. I will just like you to do me a favor. Can I meet her? I will like us to be friends.”

“Friends ke? I wouldn’t even allow you guys to meet.” I replied ending the call. But Skipper kept calling every day and her request was the same every time. She wanted to meet my wife.

I started the car deciding it was better to go look for Omoboye. I decided to go the house praying I would meet her there. I could imagine what was going through her mind. She probably thought the pregnancy Skipper was carrying was mine.

Why is it so easy for my wife to believe the worst of me? I am so not trusted. I sighed driving away from the Supermarket.

*******

Getting a cab wasn’t hard, there was a taxi park few yards from the Supermarket and I hopped into the first one I saw.

“Where?” He asked.

“Just keep driving towards Ajah.”

“Where in Ajah?”

“Just keep moving.”

“We charge 2,000 naira for anywhere in Ajah oo.”

“You talk too much o jare. Just move the car.”

I was calm. It was strange. My typical reaction would have been to cry or tear my hair out. But I was calm. I knew what I had to do. It was to get out of Lagos for a few days. I needed to be out of Jite’s reach at least for a few days and I knew just where to go. Calabar. I should have been there that weekend. There was a fashion and beauty exhibition organized by an international clothing line that was being held in Tinapa and I had been invited together with the photographer I work with. Femi.

He had been excited about us going together but I had declined thinking it would be better to spend the weekend with Jite.

Calabar is where I need to be. I decided. I gave the cab driver the directions to our house praying I would be able to pack my things before Jite would get home. I placed a call to Femi and was glad he hadn’t left. He was about leaving for the airport and I told him to get me a ticket and come pick me up on his way to the airport.

However, there was something else I needed to do before I leave. A pregnancy test. It was time to know I decided. If Skipper was pregnant then it was only fair that I should be pregnant too. Let’s see who Jite will pick between his wife and mistress. I thought.

I was glad to see Jite wasn’t around when I got home. I had a short time for everything I wanted to do. Jite could come home any minute. I had bought some Pregnancy test strips on my way to the house and grabbing three, I rushed into our bathroom.

Fifteen minutes and three used strips later, I had what had to be the result in my hand. It was negative. There is nothing in this stomach after all. I murmured. I had no idea how much I wanted to be pregnant until that moment.

“Three months and you are not pregnant. You are barren Boye.” I wailed images of several childless women that I knew flashing across my vision.

Not So Happily Married …. Episode Six

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For Previous episodes, please click here

How stupid you are Omoboye, how stupid. How did you let this girl do this to you? But you have a brain right? Don’t you? You can think for yourself Omoboye, can’t you? I asked myself those questions in quick succession as I read Boladale’s messages.

She had put a crying symbol after I said she wouldn’t dare get pregnant.

“Boye, please I am sooooooooory. In fact I am dying here bits by bits.”

“Die quick bitch” I thought surprising myself. I wasn’t going to say a word to her again, I was sure of that. The rage I felt was like nothing I ever thought I could feel.

“Omoboye, my life is messed up. The guy I’m pregnant for is a colleague and he is married. We just had a one night stand and we used protection, I don’t just understand what happened.”

“Yes, bitches never understand.” I wanted to say; instead I switched off the phone.

“She must pay.” I muttered under my breath remembering how she had been the one to start it all when Mope – our other friend got pregnant. It shouldn’t have been our concern or even mine and at that moment I cursed Blackberry and the opportunity it provides for meaningless discussions to happen. She had been the one to send me a message that Mope was pregnant. I hadn’t seen anything wrong in it as long as the father was ready to marry her but she had insisted that it was wrong and selfish of Mope, that she had been too desperate and must have intentionally gotten pregnant just so the man could marry her.

I had been reluctant to judge and had simply said; it’s not a big deal as long as the guy marries her.

“No, he is not marrying her.” Bola had announced. She had added that she didn’t feel any pity for Mope and I shouldn’t also. Fool that I am, I had gone with her to Mope’s place a week later and instead of providing her with succor, I had joined in lecturing her on how it was bad to be pregnant out of wedlock. You would think I was a virgin with the way I had acted all sanctimonious delivering my lecture. I had told her how I believe a woman can decide when or when not to get pregnant and that it was such an insecure thing to trap a man with pregnancy.

As expected, it had been a big problem when I got pregnant myself, how do I face the same people and announce that I was pregnant. Wouldn’t I look like a hypocrite? And so I had decided to terminate the pregnancy. It sounded like the easy way.

Sitting there and looking at the phone in my hand, I told myself it would have been easier to apologize to my friends for being a hypocrite and let them know I was pregnant. Isn’t that what Bola is doing now? I asked myself.

“I am a joke.” I muttered ignoring the circles Jite was drawing on my shoulders. Bola’s situation was even worse, yet she is having her baby while I had aborted a baby whose father was ready to marry me.

“Baby what’s wrong; you are not looking too happy?” Jite said turning my face towards him.

“Jite, Bola is pregnant.”

“She is?” “That should be good news.” “Aren’t you happy for her?”

“I am it’s just that the father is married.”

“Oops! That’s a tricky one and wrong too but don’t forget she is a grown woman and is responsible for her decisions so that shouldn’t make you feel down.”

“Yes.” I replied absentmindedly.

I had a sudden urge to tell Jite everything but I was sure it would be a bad idea. So I decided it had to be the secret I will carry to my grave.

I resolved to concentrate on getting pregnant and at the same time look for a way to make Boladale pay.

____

We left few minutes later. I had lost interest in everything and just wanted to leave the beach and set the plan forming in my mind in motion. It was simple, give an overdue apology.

We entered the room; there was a note on the freshly made bed. “Dinner at 7” it read. I checked the time; 6.05pm. Time enough to do this I thought slipping out of my beach wear.

Jite’s back was turned to mine; he was trying to remove his wristwatch.

I went down on both knees and held this leg.

“Baby, what’s this? Why are you kneeling?” He asked turning to face me.

“Please Jite, let me remain this way. I need to be on my knees, I want to ask for your forgiveness.”

“Fine, but please stand up and put on your clothes.”

“No, Jite let me be like this. Please indulge me, please my husband.”

“Okay Omoboye, but I don’t like you kneeling like this before me; it makes me feel like I am maltreating you.”

“You are not Jite. I just want to say some things. I might sound stupid, in fact I think I would sound stupid, but allow me and please don’t laugh. Please.”

He nodded and so I began;

                                                              ” Before you, Jite,

                                                               before your blessed presence,

                                                               naked I kneel…

                                                               a prodigal…

                                                               lost in your love…”

                                                                         An aching prodigal,

                                                                        kneeling at your feet

                                                                        An aching prodigal,

                                                                 Who would make miracles

                                                               To understand the simple given

I was so afraid he would laugh, but he didn’t. He just pulled me up when I was done and hugged me hard.

“Christopher Okigbo; Heaven’s Gate.” He said simply, pulling back to look into my eyes.

I nodded. black_love_art_2~~element286

“Jite I am sorry, with all of my heart soul and body. I am sorry. I truly regret aborting that child.”

The tears were streaming down, it was easy to cry, I was feeling real pain. The anger and thirst for revenge forgotten for the moment.

****

She is so beautiful. It was the only thing I thought of as I looked into her eyes, she wasn’t looking at mine, she just kept murmuring about how sorry she was. I felt my heart ache.

“It’s okay baby. Please stop crying. I am also sorry for how I have been. Please forgive me. I shouldn’t have been that hard on you. I am sorry.”

“Jite its okay, I deserve everything that happened.”

“No, Boye you don’t. Love forgives all, I should have forgiven you and I had no excuse for cheating on you. I am so sorry about that, please forgive me. I promise to cut all ties with Bisade. I won’t even wave to her if you don’t want…”

“Sshhhhh”, she said looking into my eyes. “It’s okay Jite. I forgive you.” But I won’t forgive Bisade. I added under my breath.

I was relieved; it felt good to finally admit that I was wrong. She pressed her body to mine and I rubbed her bare back.

“Boye, we should still have some minutes before dinner right?”

She didn’t answer, she only nodded.

“How about putting that time to good use.”

“How about skipping dinner altogether.” She replied.

“Skip dinner ke, baby you would need that food oo because I intend to exercise my right as a husband this night and I must warn you it might be a bit exerting.”

“I can’t wait Jite.”

Much later, after we had made love for what seemed like the hundredth time, she asked a question;

“Jite, do you still have the condoms?”

“Baby, don’t tell me you are now addicted to those things, just when I was thinking we should get you pregnant.”

She smiled then running her fingers through my hair.

“Would you forgive me if I said I gave it out knowing this Island would hate such things?”

“No baby, I won’t forgive you I will have to punish you for that.” I added claiming her lips.

*****

He still snores, I thought with a smile as I removed his hand from where it lay possessively on my chest. I was so happy I could actually forget that I needed to deal with Boladale and Bisade, only I wasn’t going to. It didn’t matter that I did not know how to go about it or what exactly to do, I just knew I had to find a way. It’s the only way I will feel less like a fool. I ran a hand over my flat stomach wondering if I could be pregnant already. It amazed me how something that I had never bothered about was suddenly so important.

My mind went to the previous night and how the Jite I knew had re-appeared.

“Why did it take me so long to apologize?”

It was a question I found hard to answer. Perhaps I am a proud person after all I reasoned wondering why I had always seen myself as humble.

To think I kept telling God I was sorry, asking him to forgive me while neglecting the human I wronged.

My husband was here and it was major. My heart constricted with love as I remembered how during one of the bouts of sleep that we had during the night I had stood up to use the toilet. He must have woken up and realized I wasn’t there. It was his voice that brought me out of the toilet.

“Baby, Sweets where are you?”

I had been out in a flash, alarmed at his tone.

“Jite, I am here what is it?.” I asked as he wrapped me in a warm hug.

“I woke up, I didn’t see you, and I was worried.”

“Worried how? What could possibly happen to me here?” I had asked my heart glad at being so loved.

“Nothing. Baby. Nothing will happen to my wife, now let’s go back to the bed.”

I still wanted to use the toilet but I didn’t have the heart to say so. Not with the way he held me.

The shrill sound of Jite’s phone broke into my thoughts and also reminded me that my phone was still switched off.

“Baby, check who is calling”, Jite said in a very sleepy voice.

“Oga when will you stand up or we are not going out today?” I asked walking to the table where the phone was.

He mumbled something that was quite in coherent.

“The caller’s name is Skipper.” I said shrugging as I heard his snoring become renewed.

See, I am not the type of girlfriend or wife that checks her husband’s messages or go through his call history and so I would never have seen the message if Jite hadn’t installed an SMS flasher on his phone.

Just one word caught my attention before the message disappeared; “Sweetheart”. My first thought was who the heck was calling my husband sweetheart and then I went to the inbox to check the message. It was from the person that had called earlier; Skipper.

“Sweetheart, we need to talk as soon as you get back, there is a big problem on my hands here and you are the only one that can help with it. I Love you.”

“Sweetheart”, “problem”, “only one”, “Love you”; words that stuck out and brought a dull ache to my temple. “Who is Skipper?” I muttered under my breath; a memory dancing on the fringes of my mind. There was something about that word, “skipper” that was familiar only I couldn’t place it. I knew I would remember if I put my mind to it but first I deleted the message and the call record.

Not So Happily Married….. Episode Five

Couple_ToyinFABBB

CLICK HERE FOR PREVIOUS EPISODES

“Paradise.” Jite said as soon as the airplane landed on Pemba Island.

“Baba Paradise.” I agreed.

I felt energised as I breathed in the air. I began to take pictures; the last six hours completely forgotten. Apart from the five hour flight from Lagos to Zanzibar, it had taken another thirty minutes flight from Stone Town airport to get to the island. I was tired but didn’t want to miss a thing and so I snapped away.

We took a taxi from the airport and got to our lodge after another fifteen minutes. I knew then that it was a fact that the most beautiful places on earth are usually the hardest to get to.

DhowInnHauphaus

The house we rented was exactly as advertised. One of the first things I saw was the terraced garden that had made me fall in love with the house when we were booking and then the outdoor pool and the reclining chairs beside it.

“Heaven!” I exclaimed linking my hand with Jite’s.

Our hosts; the owners of the house met us at the door.  They were there with their staff and gave us a very warm welcome. We were immediately offered refreshing cocktails made inside Pine apple shells. I was  so thrilled. pineapple

The room was so beautiful it seemed surreal. The bed hangings, lamps and cushions were all Morrocan. It was also painted Lavender; my favorite colour and smelled of spices.

Jite relaxed almost immediately we entered the Island and by the time we entered our room, he was already sporting a smile, holding my hands and rubbing my shoulders. I decided the Island wasn’t just Paradise after all and so I christened it Miracle.

Barely thirty minutes later, we were treated to a freshly prepared meal of Prawns, Lobsters and Pilau – the famous spicy Rice of Zanzibar. Our host also provided us with a map of the Island which contained some of the available sights and activities to engage in.

When we got back to our room after the meal, I read out the activities and did a little tap dance with each activity that I read out.

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Diving with the Dolphins.     tap

Wading in Shallow Sandbars.  tap tap

Volcanic Stone Massage. tap tap tap

Snorkeling. tap tap tap tap                              

Visit to World Heritage Site of Stone Town. tap tap tap tap tap

A local dhow sunset cruise which includes a picnic in a secluded mangrove area. tap tap tap tap tap tap

I had Jite giggling nonstop throughout the reading and I felt a warm glow spread through my body with each giggle.

****

Omoboye was really excited and I was too. I was finally feeling happy about being married and it felt good.

“Hey Jite, why don’t you allow things to remain this way?”

“Yeah Jite we would allow things remain this way, everything except the unprotected sex.”

“You are just a block head.”

“Thank you.”

I was still watching Omoboye dance as I had the conversation with myself. She looked so beautiful in a Red sun dress that barely covered her lower thighs. My eyes bulged as she stopped and in what was barely a second, removed her dress and expertly threw it on one of the cushions in the room.

“I didn’t know I married a stripper.” I said making sure I was smiling so she would know it’s a joke.

“There are lots of other things you would still find out about your wife Jite and guess what; you have a lifetime for that.”

“Yes Omoboye, we do have forever.” I replied.

My boxers suddenly felt uncomfortable as she did another strip tease and removed her Kente bra. She is the only girl I know who could use Kente material as underwear and make them look super sexy.

She stood there naked except for her Kente G-string. It was the perfect moment for an embrace, a kiss and at least an hour of mind blowing love made on the bed that smelled of exotic spices. It was a rare moment, one that we didn’t take or that I refused to take. I broke the eye contact first and picked up my phone from where it laid on the bed. I decided it was a good time to call our parents.

Omoboye wanted our phones off; she had talked about it months before the wedding. We could occasionally call our parents and make updates on Blackberry but that was it. I was itching to open my twitter page, I knew there would be numerous mentions and direct mentions on it but I had agreed with Omoboye that it wasn’t proper to get back into social media so soon.

*****

My heart bled for the moment lost but I was grateful Jite was coming around so I couldn’t complain. I consoled myself with the hope that more would come and decided to join him on the bed. I sat on his laps with my legs facing forward, my crotch strategically placed on his and my bare breasts practically in his face. It was something no full blooded man (especially a new husband) would ignore.

He didn’t flinch, he only adjusted to accommodate me better; the gesture ensured my centre rested perfectly on his.

“It’s been so long.” I murmured as he told me he wanted to call our parents. He smiled. He understood I wasn’t referring to the calls.

We spoke to Jite’s Mom and my parents. His Mom sounded really excited; she just got a call about another contract she told us. The phone was on speaker and I gave a whoop that I hoped sounded genuine enough. I have always believed something was fishy about his Mom and the way she got the funny and very fraudulent contracts that she did now and then. But she was my mother in law and as long as we benefited who am I to complain.

Dad was cool as usual. My Mom however kept asking if we were having fun laying emphasis on the fun. The way she said the fun reminded me of how I needed to get pregnant fast.

Time was running out and we hadn’t even started.

***

She wants me, I know that. I want her too.

The atmosphere seemed too perfect for me to use a condom or withdraw so I knew I had to provide a distraction. I rolled her off my laps and lay on her. She closed her eyes and I felt guilty about what I was about to do. I kissed her neck, earlobes and her forehead. Everything in me wanted to go all the way. I wanted to kiss her lips. I wanted to lose myself and wallow in the depths of her. More importantly I had a sudden urge to wipe away the memory of the horrible sex we had on our wedding night.

But I didn’t.

“Sweets, don’t you think we should head out to the pool; I will like to find out if that water smells of spice too.” I said smiling and pretending I didn’t see disappointment cloud her eyes.

“We could take a cool swim, head for the beach and then…….”

“Wait, Sweets do you think anyone would mind or see us if we decide to make love on the terrace later tonight?”

She smiled then, her face brightening.

“I guess we could try Husband”.

****

I was disappointed. There had been something in his eyes, something that held promise of bliss, of love- the type we used to have before the pregnancy and the Cripple but it went away and I couldn’t even stop it from leaving. I wasn’t too disappointed however; at least there was hope for later.

I can wait.

He had called me Sweets. That felt good. My Jite was on his way back.

“God, can we stay on Miracle forever?” I asked under my breath

****

After our swim, we headed for the beach.

We both glanced at ourselves the moment we saw the other couples on the beach.

Omoboye made a face.

“I thought Miracle was ours only.”

“Miracle? I thought we agreed its paradise?”

“It’s still paradise Jite. But I couldn’t help naming it Miracle too given the circumstances.”

She smiled then not wanting to say everything on her mind and I smiled back perfectly understanding the things she said and didn’t say.

“So Sweets, maybe we should call it “The Miracle Paradise”.”

“No, Jite. Miraculous Paradise.”

“No, Sweets, Paradise of Miracles.”

“Uhn, uhn” she said in a voice so soft it sent tremors through my body.

“Uhn, uhn Jite. Paradise la Miraculous.”

“La Miracalous ko, La Mira cooler ni.” I replied grabbing her waist as she giggled.

It suddenly seemed as though we were the only ones as our eyes locked again and we shared a kiss.

She tastes so good. My wife. I tasted spice, cream and warmth. I didn’t want to let go. I almost turned her back towards the house but I didn’t. Instead I broke the kiss and we walked in silence towards a hammock that rested between two palm trees. imagesCACCLKF1

***

Almost.

God, I think I’m tired of almost. I murmured sending another supplication to heaven.

I could tell Jite almost turned us both back to the house but he hadn’t.

The kiss was great however. It was different from the one we faked on our wedding day. He tasted just like old times. Mint and a whiff of what I simply call Jitefume for want of an appropriate name.

We walked hand in hand towards the hammock. I looked at the other couples as we passed and wondered if we were the only semi-happy ones or there were others like us.

There was the couple that looked like Ghanaians. Sitting on the sand and building a castle like children. I looked closely; they were building what looked like a bungalow. They would playfully slap each other’s arms away and argue intermittently.

There was another couple snuggling on a mat. They even covered themselves with a blanket. The woman was spread-eagled on the man and together they were sharing a lollipop.

There was an old couple, probably in their Sixties. The woman’s head was on the man’s laps and he was reading aloud to her from a book. She had on thick dark goggles and there was a stick propped beside the Palm tree where they lay. I wondered sadly if she was blind thinking how unfortunate it would be if she couldn’t see the beauty of her surroundings at the same time liking that they were old and yet so in sync.

As we lay in our hammock side by side I saw another couple come out of the waves. A white couple; each was carrying a surfing board.

“So white people come here too?” I said.

“Why won’t they? We are the stupid ones you know, we Africans I mean.” Jite propped himself up and took on his lecturing voice.

“We keep going to the Virgin Islands, US, UK, Dubai when we have these exciting places in Africa.”

“Yeah. True.” I agreed. “There are certainly good holiday spots here in Africa.”

“Sweets, God willing I will like for us to make this a yearly thing.”

“I mean we go on vacations every year, the next however will be Obudu Mountain resort in Cross River. I hear it’s like being in the clouds.”

“That would be nice.” I agreed not mentioning I didn’t see how yearly vacations could happen on an assistant lecturer cum makeup artist income.

****

It felt good being that way with Omoboye. The peace and the serenity was just out of the world.

I thought it would be great for us to take pictures and Omoboye smiled excitedly asking herself why she hadn’t thought of it. She then opened her beach bag to make up her face.

“Who brings a makeup kit to the beach?” I joked

I thought she looked good enough as she was but I knew how conscious she was about her looks so I didn’t say another word and just watched her paint her face and prop herself up in readiness for what should have been natural looking pictures.

****

“Jite, these pictures are so so cool.” I said excitedly when the photographer was done transferring the pictures to my Blackberry.

“Baby, lets update our BBM profile pictures.”

He shrugged in agreement and I gave him my phone so he could transfer whichever pictures he liked. I thought of what to use as my profile message and decided on;

“The perfect honeymoon; sand, sex, water, spice and more sex…..Yipeee…..Forever is beautiful”

I collected the phone from Jite and chose the steamiest picture amongst the ten shots that we took. It was the one where he encircled my upper body with his arms and his hands were practically on my breast. Another reason I loved the picture so much was because of the childish grin on my face. It presented a perfectly happy couple – exactly what I wanted my friends and family to see.

***

“Bola my maid of honour can be so annoying.” I told Jite

“What did she do?” He asked drawing me close so my head rested on his shoulders.

“She is sending me a message on BB, imagine that. The girl has no respect for people in the moon ooo.”

“You are funny, guess she took your changing your display picture as a hint that you were available to talk.”

“I guess so too.”

“Baby”, I called drawing circles on his side. “I know we are not supposed to be communicating but can I just reply her?”

“What did she say?”

“See”, I replied giving the phone to him.  He read her message out

“Iyawo Osingin….shey na you dey wound bobo abi na bobo dey wound you?”

“Answer her; tell we are not in a boxing ring so nobody is wounding the other.”

I laughed at his words certain I won’t tell Bola that

“Babe, what do you think na?” I replied her

“I suspect sey na him go dey win.”

“Who for come win before?”

We both LOLed at that.

“I am so happy for you Omoboye.”

“Thanks Boladale. More thanks for being there all the way.”

“My pleasure. Darling”

“Hmmm. Boye, there is something I need to tell you ooo. I know you’d be mad but I still need to say it.”

I took my eyes away from the phone for a minute and glanced up at Jite to be sure he wasn’t looking at the phone

“What is it Bola? What would I be angry about?”

“Hmmm, Boye, I have betrayed you and I am so ashamed of myself.”

“What is it now Boladale? Just say it first.”

“Boye, I am pregnant. I am three months gone. I didn’t want to tell you all this while because I was afraid.”

“No, Bola you cannot be pregnant”

“In fact you dare not be pregnant ! ”

Not So Happily Married…. Episode Four

Couple_ToyinFABBB

MISSED PREVIOUS EPISODES? CLICK HERE

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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