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It’s Another Novocaine Saturday #16

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noka

My mom, the religious nut she is, will always tell me, “Nothing is ever hidden under the sun. One day God will expose you.” It makes me always wonder what type of mother she is. Normal mothers support and protect their kids but my mom will gladly throw me under the bus to please Jesus. And today, she has reared up her ugly head to remind me that nemesis is at my door.

“Mommy, I have heard you,” I say to her on the phone. I don’t even know why I answered her call. I am in the middle of something here.

“Ojonoka, pray o! Pray well-well! Devil wants to use you.”

Devil is already using me. He’s six foot tall, rugged, the exact opposite of my husband and he is presently screwing his fine tool into my lady parts. So, nothing new, mommy. I am potty in the hands of the devil because you refused to help me cover my sins.

“Can I go now?” I tell her gruffly, biting down my lower lip to contain the pleasure the father of my illegitimate son is giving me. I can’t tell you his name, so let’s call him B.

I dump my phone on the floor and clasp my arms around B as he digs in deeper in a manner that would make you think he wants to drill a hole all the way to my mouth. But it’s pleasure to me. It comes with pain that I’m used to. Pain that I like. This is a lot better than waiting and begging to be loved by Ibro. Forget that I shed tears before Celia just the other day. It’s tears of regret, not of guilt. I regret that I didn’t listen to my mom when she told me to be straight with Ibro on the issue of my first son. The money was all I saw and I was going to have it even if it meant denying my own blood. That was what I did, and now, I am paying for it. B has refused to stay in the shadows but it’s all good. This is a blessing in disguise. He gives me the attention Ibro denies me. Yes, I have to pay for it but body no be firewood. This is me loving myself. So, please don’t judge. You have no idea what it means to be neglected and to spend many nights alone until you have walked in my shoes. I started collecting B’s tool a long time ago but for people like Celia and Bimpe who like to poke their noses into people’s affairs, I had to play the victim card.

The two annoying creatures caught me leaving a hotel with B a year ago. It was after dark and we had the shadows to our advantage but that hawk-eyed Bimpe sighted us from afar as B was shoving his tongue down my throat while begging me to go back with him to the hotel for another round.

“Is that not Noks?” I heard her say. I froze and spun around. Guilt filled my face but I played a quick one, when I turned around, slapped B and hurried towards my friends.

“Noka, what is going on here?” Celia asked. I began to cry. She faced B. “Excuse me, what were you just doing to my friend?”

B laughed. “Ask her.”

And then he walked away. I held Bimpe tightly and bawled my eyes out. When they were finally able to get me to stop, I opened up to them and revealed everything. The only part I doctored was the part about how I enjoyed my moments with B.

“Please, don’t tell anybody,” I cried. “If Ibro hears it, he will divorce me. What will now be left of me and the boys?”

Celia who was also in tears with me, promised that she would keep her mouth shut. Bimpe also gave her word. All has been good so far. My mom’s prophecies can hit a brick wall and shatter to nothingness for all I care. The universe is on my side. Ibro does not love me. B is my recompense.

“Is he as good as this?” B asks me, his hand grasping my hair as he grinds me senseless.

“No,” I reply breathlessly.

“Say it.”

“You’re the best,” I moan.

“Again!”

“You’re the best!”

He is not the best, though. Ibro is. My husband can make love like humanity depends on his dick for survival. But dick that can form for Africa, is that one dick?

I hold on to B, clutching his hairy butt for more of what he’s giving but I know dude is spent. So I brace myself for the end of my short-lived pleasure and start making plans for dinner. My boys are spoilt; they won’t eat yesterday’s leftovers or the nanny’s meals. I have to go home and prepare something fresh.

“Please, don’t cum,” I beg B. If only he listens and lasts as long as Ibro does.

“I’m sorry, baby but…”

He cums. Hard and noisily. I wish I have another fifteen or more minutes to spare to get the full measure of the type of pleasure I want.

B withdraws from me. I pull my legs up. He can see that I’m not happy but he doesn’t care. Shey he has taken all my money and gotten his satisfaction.

“Same time, next week?” he asks. “Or rather, come earlier. These days you just want to pop in and dash out. What’s up with that?”

I shrug. These days I’m being careful. Celia is insisting I tell Ibro the truth and my mother keeps preaching to me. Somehow it’s all getting to me.

“Nothing. I’m just busy.”

“Don’t be too busy for me.” He taps my ass, and when I try to walk away, he pulls me back. “Watch this.”

He shows me a video on his phone. It’s the latest recording of our son. Tears fill my eyes as I watch the boy playing football with a friend. B might be greedy and lacking of morals but he’s a good dad. He actually uses some of the money I send to him on our son. I am grateful for that.

“I’m tired of him asking for his mother.” B stops the video midway. “When are we going to tell him the truth?”

My tummy knots. “B…” I sigh. “You want me to lose my marriage? Where will the money come from if I do?”

“Your son thinks you’re his aunt and that we’re brother and sister. How does that sound right in your ears?”

“As right as you eating my monthly income!” I yell. “I don’t hear you complaining about that! But if you want it to stop coming, go ahead and tell him who I am! In fact, go and tell the whole world! Or better still, invest the money so that when my husband eventually kicks me out of his life, we’ll have something to fall back on!”

I hiss and pick my clothes off the floor. He watches me without saying a word as I dress up.

“See you next week.”

I pick my handbag and phone and head out. The moment I shut the door, I bump into Eno.

I gasp. Loudly. She gasps as well. She is also leaving a hotel room, and I can hear the voice of a man. Well, well… This should be interesting.

“Noka.” She recovers faster than I do. “What are you doing here?”

I am about to throw the same question at her when the door behind me opens and B sticks out his brainless head.

“Baby, you forgot your watch.”

I grab it from him and he retreats, totally oblivious of what he has just done. I turn around to find Eno’s arms crossed and a malicious look on her face.

“Noka, what did I just use my two eyes to see?”

“I should also ask you the same question,” I throw back at her as the man she is with steps out of the hotel room. Unfortunately for me, even before she says a word, I can see a clear resemblance between her and the guy. They possess the same complexion, same eyes, same lips and same color of brown hair.

“You mean, this guy?” She laughs. “This is my baby brother who just completed his NYSC and is here for some seminar being organized by this hotel. Should I assume that the guy that just handed you your wristwatch is your brother too?”

“Erm…yes. I’m his sister.”

“So brothers call sisters ‘baby’?”

I laugh drily. “That’s what everyone calls me at home.”

“I see. So, Ibro knows him?”

“I… No. Ibro hasn’t met him yet. He doesn’t live in Nigeria. He just came in from…Kuwait. He’s a…basket baller. See how tall he is? Hehehe.” I scratch my neck uneasily. I’m a rusty liar.

“I see. Why don’t you take him home? Why is he here?”

“Erm…”

She walks past me and knocks on the door. Stupid B opens it.

“Hey, Noka’s tall brother.”

B frowns at her and then turns his eyes on me.

“I’m Eno, Noka’s mate.”

“Mate?”

“We’re married to the same man.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you. I was just scolding her about letting you stay here when she has this really fancy house.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m…”

“Nonsense. You should come to hers. My husband would be glad to meet you. Seems you guys haven’t met before, which is quite strange. He knows every member of my family. I don’t see why he shouldn’t know Noka’s.”

Right now, I am praying for a bomb to drop or rapture to happen so that I can escape this mess. How do I get out of this one?

“Really, I’m fine here.”

“Okay. If you say so but Ibrahim won’t like it. Welcome to Nigeria.”

B looks at me. I smile.

“Thank you.”

He goes back into the room. Eno turns to her brother.

“Get your things, let’s go home.”

I see a complaint on his face but the frown she flashes him makes him disappear back into his room. The moment he leaves, she faces me.

“You smell of sex, you know that? Your hair is a mess, your lipstick is gone and there is guilt all over your face.”

“Sex? What are you talking about?”

“I have nothing more to say to you. Ibro will hear about this…”

“Eno, no.” I grab her hand. She looks at me and I withdraw. “Let me explain…”

She opens the door to her brother’s hotel room. “Explain it to your husband.”

And that is how my mom’s has used her mouth to jinx my good fortune. I clutch my fearful heart and handbag and leave the hotel to my car where I mull over what awaits me. It doesn’t matter what I would cook up to tell Ibro, Eno will paint a terrible picture and that would be the end of me. The only person that can save me is my mom but she would rather be burnt at a stake for Jesus than lie to save her daughter’s ass.

I am done for. Nobody can tell me anything. My own is finished. I better call the girls and start finding a way to twist this tale my way.

∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞

I haven’t seen Naomi since the incident. I had taken her to the hospital that night, following what her husband did to her, and stayed until the morning when she begged me to leave. She expressly told me I was never to visit her again. I knew it was the abused woman in her talking and so I ignored her pleas, went home and checked in on her later that day. I wasn’t allowed in to see her, however. I left and made plans to visit the following day. When I returned, I was told that she had been transferred to another hospital. According to the nurse at the front desk, the doctor who had handled a few other similar cases from Naomi was tired of her shielding her husband and lying about her injuries. She had claimed the latest one was from a car crash and he wasn’t buying it. Hence, he asked her to leave, stating that he was scared of being implicated if she eventually ended up dead. No one knew what hospital she was taken to. I called her number several times but she ignored my calls. I am scared for her.

It’s a Tuesday, a tiring one, but not too tiring for me to respond to a call from a friend. I don’t do it alone. I take Peace and Honey along to see Mary. I don’t really suggest the visit. I just drive up to see Peace, pick her up and then do the same to a whining Honey.

“I’m tired,” she complains. “This is 3pm. We’ll jam traffic on the way. Can’t we do this during the weekend?”

“No. Lasting friendships do not run on convenience. Mary needs us…”

“No, she needs you. She called you alone.”

“Honey, stop being such an annoying person this afternoon.”

“I’m tired!” she almost cries.

“Enter the car, jare.”

“You’re lucky I used a cab today. I wouldn’t have followed you,” she says, taking the backseat. Once she gets in, she sets to nurse Jiney. “I hate you, Celia.”

“Feeling’s mutual.”

I get in behind the wheel.

“What’s with Mary, though?”

“I don’t know. She called me, says she needs to talk.”

“Then it’s serious. Mary’s the one we all go to when we need to vent. Now she needs to talk to someone. That’s new. I hope Kene’s not being an ass.”

“I hope so too.”

I put the car in gear and we drive away. For the first part of the journey, we are quiet. Well, Honey and I are. Peace is on a phone call with one of the girls manning her boutique. After trying her hands at different businesses and small-time jobs, Peace decides to settle for running a boutique. Reno finances the project single-handedly and now her stylish shop stands in one of the lavish spots at the Lekki mall, the one owned by the BSD Group.

“I didn’t want to go expensive,” she explains to us after the phone call, “but Reno insisted. And now, the shop is draining me.”

I rub her thigh. “Things will be fine.”

“But I think the whole thing is Reno’s way of letting you guys know that, despite the fact that everyone’s giving him the silent treatment, he has not crawled up into one hole and died. He is doing very well.”

“He’s a rapist,” I remind her even though I know it would hurt her.

“Ex-rapist,” she corrects.

“Celia, be nice,” Honey scolds.

“But he’s your current friend with benefits?” I look at Peace.

“Cee, don’t start.”

“Swear that you’re not having sex with him.”

She stares away from me.

“You see?”

“Once in a blue moon.”

“That’s why you dumped the German guy? Eyha.” I make a weepy face. “And I was hoping for cute kids.”

“Oyibos are overrated if you ask me,” Honey states. “Besides, he couldn’t fit into our circle.”

“Hon, he got circumcised for her and she didn’t even let him taste the goods.”

“I was not in love with him, Celia,” Peace responds. “Apart from that, at my age, I shouldn’t be looking for love. I shouldn’t even be looking for a man. I can do well by myself.”

“That’s the spirit.” I give her a high five. She doesn’t slap it.

“Awww, you’re hanging my hand. What’s wrong, darling?”

“Nothing.”

She seems annoyed. I really have to stop bringing up these discussions. They always leave her uncomfortable. It’s not an easy decision when you choose to walk on the path of solitude. The new Peace is done with giving her heart to men and to getting involved in any kind of relationship.

“There’s something empowering about being alone but it can also get lonely,” she whispers. “That’s why I still spend some nights with Reno.”

“We’re not judging you, P,” Honey responds. “Ignore the rapist statement Celia made.”

Peace smiles. I smile too. Peace is all grownup. Just the other day she was crying over how much she needed Reno. Today, she is doing fine by herself. Even her sense of fashion has improved. She has evolved into her own style. She’s doing the whole Naturalista thing; replete with the Ankara head-wraps, earthy sandals, African inspired jewelry and long Boho skirts. In fact, this is the precise description of what she is wearing now. A batik tee gives her appearance a modern edge that leaves her looking younger than her current age.

“I hope Mary has food.” Honey takes a long yawn that pushes me into yawning as well. “This child is killing me with all her sucking.”

“Pele.”

“I’ve not even had lunch.”

“Mary always has food.”

We all go silent as I navigate a busy street. My thoughts are on Naomi, and on the threatening text I received from her husband last night. It came in one short line: leave my wife alone, Celia.

I have read it so many times that I now feel I wrote it myself. I didn’t show the text to Shady and my reason is simply that I want to handle the situation alone. I need to get Naomi out of the abusive situation she is in right now. As for her husband who thinks he can send me texts, he doesn’t know what his problem is yet. Dude is soon going to suck on his own balls for making that mistake with me.

“I’ve not seen Noks in a while,” Peace murmurs. She is rummaging through her handbag as she says this. I wonder what she’s looking for.

“I haven’t seen her too. Have you called her?”

“No.” Peace stops her rummaging. “Have you?”

“Nope.”

“Honey, have you?”

“I don’t care. Meanwhile, I have found out her dirty, little secret…”

Peace makes a sharp turn. “What secret?”

I look at Honey through the rearview mirror, trying to see if she’s kidding.

“I’m not telling anyone, Peace. But Noka should never insult me or any of you or I swear, I’ll expose her.”

“What’s the secret nau?”

Honey shakes her head.

“Please nau!”

“No. Face your front.”

“Whatever it is,” I say, “if it will ruin her marriage, Honey, please don’t expose her. I know she’s been mean to you but it’s not enough reason to share whatever you saw with anyone.”

Honey holds my eyes in the mirror. I look away.

“You know the secret, Celia.”

Chai. This Honey sef. Why is she always this smart? And how on earth did she find out about Noka?

“I don’t know anything,” I reply.

“You do.”

“So two of you know this secret and you’re not telling me?” Peace whines. “Tell me how that is fair.”

We both ignore her and she goes on and on until we arrive at Mary’s.

“We’re all not good friends, Cee,” she concludes. “We’re losing our little circle. I blame Bimpe. She was the glue that kept us together.”

“We’re fine, madam,” Honey snaps. “Nobody is losing anything.”

My car stops outside Mary’s compound. I honk and seconds later a guard comes out. When he sees us, he smiles and returns to the compound. Soon, the gate slides to let us in. I drive through. Mary is waiting at the front door, dressed in white leggings and a matching top. She blends with the whiteness of the house, except for the pitch blackness of her new hairdo.

We walk up to her. She has hugs waiting. We haven’t seen each other in a few days but it isn’t us she’s really interested in. The moment she sights Jiney, she gets all mushy. She takes her off Honey’s arms.

“Come in.”

She leads us into her beautiful home that still manages to take my breath away even after my many visits. The décor makes no attempt at being modest. Our dear Ekene is ostentatious; the house reflects his person. Mary, on the other hand, is the opposite. As long as she is comfortable and the house is clean, she can live in any condition. It’s interesting how both of them find a balance.

“First of all, food!” Honey cries. Mary laughs.

“Help yourselves. Jiney and I will be right back.”

“You kukuma have big breasts. Give her some while you’re at it.”

Mary disappears while three of us help ourselves with meals of our choice. There’s so much to pick from and we knock ourselves out. We settle in the living room. Mary joins us shortly with Jiney, now dressed in a complete Versace baby ensemble.

“Whoa!” Honey exclaims. “What have you done to my baby?”

“The same thing she did to Dara and Sammy,” Peace answers.

“I got some things from my last visit to Paris with Kene.”

“Awww, this is so sweet. Jide will fawn over her.” Honey coos at Jiney and gets out her phone to take a photo. “Jiji, did you say thank you to Aunty Mary?”

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Jiney lets out a grin and Honey takes a photo. I also take a few shots.

“Mary?” I call, after we go back to our meals. “Are you fighting with Kene? Is that why you called me over?”

Mary smiles sadly.

“You cook a lot when you’re upset. You know that? What’s going on?”

“Yeah… Kene and I are fighting.”

Peace passes her a glass of orange juice. She declines. A minute later we are listening to her talk to us about her desperate need to have a child and how it has become a problem between her and Ekene.

“Now, he’s avoiding sex, and even when we do it, he uses condoms. All he wants is for us to keep going out on dates, traveling to exotic places, doing romantic stuff and all that.”

“Isn’t that a good thing, May?” Honey asks.

“Hon, we have all the time in the world to do that but my uterus can’t wait another year. It’s not him whose biological clock is ticking.”

“May,” I put my hand on hers, “do you love this man?”

She withdraws her hand in quick anger. “What type of nonsense question is that?”

“Exactly,” Peace mutters.

“I’m sorry. Let me rephrase. Do you love him as much as he loves you?”

Mary’s angry bearing disappears. “I love Kene but you know me…I can’t express it the way he does. Apart from that, I’m still growing into loving him.”

“No, you’re guarding your heart, May. And you have to stop it. Your days of spinsterhood where men hurt you are over. You don’t own your emotions alone now. At the risk of sounding cheesy, I’ll advise that you give Kene the key to your heart, please.”

“That’s scary. And I don’t think it’s okay for me to do that just because I’m married to him. He will hurt me. I have seen it happen to all of you. P, look what Reno did to you. And you too, Celia. Men do these things. They hurt us. I have to stay guarded.”

“Mary…”

“Kene and I had an agreement. We are to play our roles as husband and wife. But he’s turning the script by demanding too much from me. I just can’t let down my guard like that.”

Honey and I sigh at the same time without meaning to. Mary has always been this tough with men. Jide was the only man she loved wholeheartedly and then he went and broke her heart. In addition, what Reno did to her left her with deep trust issues. Our dear Ekene has his work cut out for him. But I think we can lessen his load a little.

We advise her on ways she can let her guard down and allow Ekene in. We teach her how to express her love through numerous means without losing herself.

“You’re sure it’ll work?”

I nod.

Honey raises a finger. “And please, make love, not babies. Then watch the babies drop in unannounced. That’s how more than half of the world gets pregnant, my dear. So, get with the script. If you do it right, Kene won’t have time for condoms. Imagine you hearing his car driving in at night and you rush out to meet him and take him right there, while the engine is still running. Will he have time for a condom?”

“Abi o!” I exclaim.

“Hmmm…” Mary gives our words some thought as she rests her chin on her cupped palm.

“And remember this…” Peace takes the last sip of her juice. “You don’t have a great marriage. You make a great marriage. You fight the odds to make it work.”

I nod in hundred percent agreement. Told you my darling Peace is all grown.

“Well, I feel better now,” Mary comments. “Tonight, I’ll swing into action.”

Loud laughter takes all of us. I stand up to have a second serving of my meal. When I return, Peace asks about Naomi. I set my meal on my lap quietly. I don’t want to talk about it but when I’m with the girls, there’s really nothing I can keep a secret. So, I take my seat and let out everything.

“What sort of monster is he?” Honey is most appalled. “So because she won’t get pregnant for him he decides to destroy her womb?”

“How did they even meet in the first place?” Mary asks. “Most times, the foundation of a relationship can tell you a lot about why that relationship is the way it is.”

“Well, they’re both from rich families but Charles’ family is richer and Naomi’s family basically sold her to him. He is almost nine years older than she is.”

“Thought as much,” Mary comments.

“They never loved each other but Nay wanted it to work in the beginning. Charles wasn’t just there. He would go away for long periods and when he returns he looks for reasons to abuse her.”

“That’s sad.”

“Would you believe it if I told you that they have been married for six years and have had sex only twelve times.”

“What?!” Honey yells. “Twice every year or what?”

“I don’t know but that’s what she told me. And twelve times, it was terrible. He would give her everything – his money, cars, access to his bank accounts but not himself.”

Mary frowns. “Is he gay?”

“No. He has a mistress.”

“So why can’t he love his wife?”

“Naomi is beautiful, educated and from a wealthy family. She also runs his business well. She is the perfect wife and he can’t do without her. She knows this, and that is why she has refused to get pregnant for him.”

“And why she chose to be a lesbian?”

“She said she found love in the arms of her aerobics instructor four years ago and hasn’t looked at any man after that. Asides that, the abuse makes her hate men.”

“I’m happy for her,” Honey says snidely. “She should just carry her lips away from yours. And I think it’s time you too should leave her and her marital problems alone as her husband warned.”

“Honey, he has involved me and I will give him what he’s looking for.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning, I want to know what he means by that his threat. The fool must be mad to send me that type of text. And that nonsense he did to Nay, he will pay for it.”

My friends are shocked at my stance on the issue.

“Cee, this is just a harmless question o,” Peace utters quietly. “Don’t be annoyed that I’m asking but are you in love with Naomi?”

“So I have to be in love with her before I help her out of an abusive situation abi? You girls think that if it happened to any of you I would just walk away?”

“No. I was merely asking…”

“Naomi is my friend. I have grown to like her and I will not sit down and let anyone touch her again.”

“But Celia,” Honey faces me, “what if you know only half of the story? What if there’s more to this?”

“Honey, I will not sit and let a friend get hurt.”

“But when did you even meet her that you now call her your friend? It’s not the same type of friendship we have.”

“You and Genesis nko? If her husband abuses her, will you sit down and watch it happen?”

“You’re not getting me, Cee. The basis of this your friendship is not on leveled grounds. Your feelings are genuine but Naomi wants to have something deeper…”

“She is an abused woman! She only fell in love with me because she was looking for an escape!”

“I know…”

“Please, let’s leave this talk. I’m getting annoyed here.”

I see Mary pass Honey a look.

“Fine. I’ll let it be,” Honey tells me in a resigned tone. “Just be careful.”

“I’ll be.”

No one says a word for a while. I feel somehow about the way I just spoke to Honey. To lighten the mood, I leave my seat and hug her, kissing her cheek.

“Seems like your Naomi has infected you with a kissing bug, Cee. Step away. I like dick too much.”

I don’t step away. I hug her again. I can’t help it. She smells like a baby. I think I might be having baby blues.

Just then my phone rings. I’m surprised to see that it’s Naomi calling. I leave the girls to take the call.

“Nay?”

“Cece?”

I smile. I am genuinely happy to hear her voice.

“Nay, how are you?”

“I’m good. You?”

“Great.”

“Gosh! I miss you, sweetie,” the lesbian in her says. I ignore the emotions I hear in her tone as I walk into Mary’s all-marble kitchen. I find a chair and lower myself on it.

“How are you feeling, Nay?”

“A lot better. I am so sorry about the way things went these past days. Whenever Charles gets into his monster mode, my world turns upside-down.”

“Charles did not get into his monster mode, Nay. Charles is a monster, and you have to get out of that marriage before he kills you.”

“He’s not going to kill me, Cece…”

“He almost killed you. Where is he right now?”

“He went to his girlfriend’s place. I don’t think he’s coming back until tomorrow. He forgot to take my phone along. He confiscated it and that’s why I haven’t been able to call you.”

“Did you know that he texted me last night?”

“I was with him when he did it. He questioned me about you. Apparently, he found out about our trip to Fiji. He’s convinced something is going on between us. I told him that we were just friends and that I offered you the job to be my PA and personal consultant but he doesn’t believe me. He doesn’t want me to see you again.”

“He has no right to tell you who you shouldn’t see. You’re a person of your own, Nay. You don’t have to take shit from him.”

“He’ll calm down, Cece. He’s just angry because he found out that I had been lying to him about not being able to get pregnant. All he wants is a baby. Once I get pregnant, he’ll get off my ass.”

I am speechless. My friend really needs help. She has no idea how oppressed she sounds right now.

“Nay, the worst thing you can do to yourself is to get pregnant for that man. Don’t even think about it. All that should be on your mind at this moment is how you will divorce him.”

“But I can’t.”

“Why not?” I almost cry.

“My money is tied to his. Both of us built our company from scratch but he put in more money than me. If I walk away, I’ll lose a lot.”

“But your life will be safe. You’ll be free. Don’t you want to be your own woman, date whoever you want to date, do whatever you want to do?”

“Celia, you don’t understand.”

I stare at a clock on the wall facing me. It’s just a few minutes past six. “Nay, I’m coming over so we can talk better.”

“Okay.”

I hang up and hurry back to the living room.

“I want to dash somewhere and come back real quick.”

“Where are you going?” Mary questions.

“It’s not far from here.”

Honey stares at her watch. “Let me kuku follow you and find my way to the family house. We have a meeting.”

Peace shakes her head. “The Onuoras and their meetings.”

Honey stands and takes Jiney in her arms.

“She’s so adorable,” Mary comments, kissing the child’s forehead.

“Don’t worry, you’ll soon have yours,” Honey tells her. “Thanks for the sweet rice.”

“Don’t mention.”

I impatiently wait for Honey by the door as she hugs Mary and Peace.

“Cee, you can go home from there,” Peace says to me.

“Sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll find my way. Don’t worry about me.”

I rush back and hug my friends and dash out with Honey.

∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞

I park outside Naomi’s compound and walk to the gate. The gateman lets me in after informing me that Naomi is expecting me. I take a long walk to the main house and I am let in by the maid. I see Naomi walking towards me just as I step in.

“You can leave,” she tells the maid as she spreads out her arms to hug me. I notice, just before our bodies touch, that she has lost so much weight.

She hugs me and clings to me like I am a long lost lover.

“You have no idea how I’ve missed you, Cece.”

I want to tell her I’ve missed her too but I don’t want to give her the wrong impression.

“How are you?” She breaks the hug but caresses my cheek. If she is Shady and we are in this position, we would be kissing now. The awkwardness makes me pull away. She takes my hand.

“Come this way.”

She leads me to her main living room. This is quite different from the one I was taken to the first time I was here. It is more spacious and carries that look that marks living rooms of people who collect expensive art and décor items from all over the world. Everything in it is either gold-plated or nearly so. If one sells the room and the items in it, the money made would be enough to rent another house for years. It’s a shame that Naomi has all of this and can go anywhere she wants to in the world at a whim and yet she has no freedom.

“Let me get you something to drink.” She walks through another door, leaving it slightly open, and I see that it’s the room I was led to the first time I was here. The place is cozier and has a modern feel to it.

Naomi soon returns with two glasses of God-knows-what. It’s amazing how her skin heals. I had expected to see her still marked by bruises but nothing on her shows that she has faced any type of violence, except for a fresh scar on her chin.

“It’ll go,” she tells me as she notices me staring at it. “I heal nicely.”

“I noticed.”

“Here.”

I take what she offers, smell it and decide I don’t want it.

“You don’t like it?”

I shake my head. She downs it at a go, clutches her glass and sits beside me.

“I really missed you.”

“Cut it, Naomi. That’s not why I’m here.”

“I know.” She lifts a leg up on the sofa and leans towards me.

“Nay, you have to get out of this marriage fast. And while you’re planning to do so, don’t make the mistake of getting pregnant.”

“Cece, I understand why you want me to do this. I really do but it’s not so easy to get up and just leave…”

“You can.”

“I can’t.”

“Are you waiting till you’re six feet under?”

“God forbid.”

“God has nothing to do with it, Naomi. He will not force you out of here. Only you can do it.”

“Charles is…” She clasps her fingers around her glass of liquor. “He’s not always like this. It comes and goes. Sometimes he hits me just twice a year and it’s always my fault. Maybe I was disrespectful to him at work or he gives me instructions and I ignore them or I am rude to his mom… He’s generally nice. You understand it, don’t you? It’s like what happened to you with your husband. He’s a nice man but you pushed him to the wall and he reacted. We women are like that and men, they don’t know how to hold themselves.”

I rub my eyes in utter frustration. I can’t believe this side of Naomi. I’ve always seen her as a strong, independent, successful woman. Who is this person with me?

I am about to respond to her when she suddenly springs up, runs to the nearest window and peeps out.

“Shit! He’s back!”

“Who is back?”

“Charles! He’s back! He’s not supposed to come back this night. Cece, you have to go. Get up.” She stretches her arm to me as she returns to the sofa.

“I’m not going anywhere…”

“Celia, please! He’ll kill me if he sees you here. Please!”

I stand up. “I’ll stay right here. I’m not going to run out like a rat hiding from a cat. I’m not afraid of him. And I think it’s time someone faced him. I want to see if he’s man enough when his shit is thrown back at his face.”

“Celia, please.” She clutches her dress, eyes darting to the entrance. “Please, don’t do this to me.”

Unfortunately, my ears are blocked. I am enraged and have gone into that mode that Shady says only God and peppered chicken can get me out of.

“Celia!”

Too late. The door opens and soon we hear Charles’ footsteps. I brace myself for what is to come, and it comes at us as I expect it would. Tall, huge and quite ugly. A beast in human skin. It looks at its wife and back at me with four o’clock eyes. Even I will abort any offspring it deposits in me. Charles Ogbeiwi is an appalling man.

“Hi darling,” Naomi greets as she sweeps towards him. I note that he doesn’t respond.

“You have a visitor,” he says after she hugs him. He gives me the look that demands that I acknowledge his presence. I don’t.

“Yes, this is my friend…”

“Celia,” I say defiantly.

“Celia,” he repeats. And then laughs. I smile, lifting just one corner of my lips to spell out a smirk. I wait for him to say something about the text he sent to me but he doesn’t. Rather he speaks into Naomi’s ear and they both walk to the other room.

Things are silent for a while and even when I pick out their voices, they’re very low. Something tells me to leave but I don’t listen, not with the way my heart is pounding. I want to see how this ends. The problem with us barrack kids is that we love trouble. I remember Joey taking me around Kaduna town in his small Volkswagen beetle in those days, just looking for who would cross our path. We both enjoyed the thrill of seeing stupid bastards get beat. It is the same way I feel right now.

I hear a sound and I pay close attention to the door leading to the next room. It is left open but I can see only Naomi. She is speaking, shaking her head, gesticulating in a defensive manner. As I try to make out what is happening, I see her head fling to the side as if she has just been slapped. It happens so fast that I am not sure I witnessed it. I hold my breath to see what will happen next. Several seconds go by and when I begin to conclude that I imagined what I saw, it happens again. And this time, I actually see the hand that hits her. I can’t believe my eyes.

But he does it yet again and she moves backwards, begging, whimpering.

“Didn’t I say I didn’t want to see her near you?!” The monster emerges in a bawl as his hand strikes one more time. It’s more forceful than the rest and it sends Naomi to her knees. I am in utter shock that he would do this in my presence. My feet itch to move and the boiling rage in me longs to rush towards her but curiosity keeps me back. I want to witness this. I want to know what my friend goes through. I need a story, a reason to react.

I watch as she lifts her hands to shield her face when he towers over her. She is crying and begging but he doesn’t listen. He throws yet another fist and she falls flat to the floor. My feet move fast and I rush into the room.

“What type of devil are you?!” I scream as I jump in-between them. He advances towards me. I face him squarely. “You’ll hit me too?! Please, go ahead and make my evening!”

He looks down on me in condescension but at the same time I can see that he is taken aback by my brazenness. It fuels my trouble.

“Hit me, coward! Or I’ll give you reason to.”

“Celia, no.” Naomi stands and puts her arms around me from behind.

“You’re a small man!”

The veins on his neck bulge out as his breathing reaches a crescendo. I expect him to burst anytime soon but he remains there, a man whose ego has been deflated by a woman. I wait, still, for him to do his worst. Instead he points at the door.

“Get out of my house!” Spittle hits my face as he growls.

“Let’s go, Nay.” I can feel her holding tightly to me.

“Naomi, if you step out of this room, never come back here! I’ll divorce you and leave you with nothing!”

“Fuck you and your threats! She’ll see you in court–!”

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

I make to move towards the door with Naomi but he grabs my shoulder with his paw, grabs Naomi’s hand with the other and tears us apart. When he lets go of me, the force of his strength flings me to a bookshelf. A vase resting on it shaken by the impact, leaves its position and crashes down on my head.

Perfect! This is what I have been aiming for. All I need is just a scratch and Joey will have his boys burn this house down.

“Jesus! Celia!”

Naomi tries to come for me but Charles stops her by pushing her behind him. He then comes for me, hooks those ugly hands on my upper arms and drags me out of the house. I know I should stay calm but I struggle and make it difficult for him. I want his fingers to leave marks on my body. I want to stir my brother’s bloodlust. Charles must pay for everything he has done to Naomi through the years. He must bleed for every drop of blood of hers that stained my clothes that night when she passed out in my arms.

As he takes me towards the gate of the house, I hear Naomi calling and crying. The sound of her voice breaks my heart. I fear for what he would do to her when I’m gone. I pray she stays strong. I hope I have not made things worse for her.

©Sally@Moskedapages

Images: Black EroticaPinterest

 

It’s Another Novocaine Saturday #15

Here’s an announcement to new readers!

It’s Another Novociane Saturday is a combination of two separate stories. One of them voted as the best series on Moskedapages by my fans. You would enjoy this sequel better if you start the stories from the beginning.

Catch up with It’s Another Saturday here 

&

Novocaine Knights here

God bless you!

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Honey’s call meets me in the middle of a birth. My colleague holds my phone to my ear while I’m severing an umbilical cord. Honey wants to know if I can do dinner at theirs. I reply that I’m up to it. She tells me to wear a nice dress. There would be guests. Okay, I reply, thinking about the little red dress I bought off a colleague last week just to butter up to her and her gang of bitchy nurses. They still hate me for being close to Jide.

Honey hangs up, I go back to my patient. Hours pass, darkness comes and I am still at work. I have totally forgotten that I have to do dinner at the Onuoras. Honey calls again. This time my hand holds the phone. The first thing I say to her is “shit!”

“You totally forgot.”

“I am so sorry.”

“Please hurry over. Our guests just arrived.”

After she’s off the line, I dash out of the hospital like the mad woman I am. I don’t even have time to change from my scrubs. Thank God it’s a Sunday or I would have encountered some bad traffic on the way.

I smell my armpits. Not so fresh. I have been at the hospital since last night and haven’t had time for a shower today. I wonder if I can dash home, do a quick one, change and meet up on time.

I hiss, suddenly annoyed for agreeing to the dinner. Knowing how tired I am, I should have declined Honey’s invitation. But you see the thing about Honey is that she is so sweet that you can’t say no to her. I can understand why Jide is constantly smitten. She has charm, even over the phone.

“Olodo!” My head is sticking out of a window to insult a keke driver who thinks this is a good time to try to scratch my car. “You wan die, abi?!”

The guy rains abuses on me in Yoruba as he squeezes between my car and a trailer, barely missing my side mirror. I shake my head and ask myself for the zillionth time why I made this bold move to relocate to Lagos.

I blame my mom.

“Go to Lagos,” she said. “Plenty of men there. You’ll find a husband.”

As if there is a large sea of husbands here just waiting to be fished out and married. To her – and everybody else in my family who is married, finding a life partner is as easy as breathing and yet when I ask them to give me a husband they keep bringing me trash.

My dad believes my standards are too high, and that one day I will come down to earth. But I am already at that point where I don’t need love again. Let me just marry and get everyone off my back. I know the danger in this. My friend did it and she is now stuck in an impossible situation in the name of marriage. But I know there are men out there who are mature enough to stay civil in a marriage that is not built on emotions and unnecessary romance. The problem is that such men are an endangered species. Everyone else is a dick these days.

I hiss again. To drown disturbing thoughts, I turn on the radio to Cool FM. I don’t know what is playing but it sounds nice and makes me start to bump my head. I love music. I can’t sing. I can’t dance. I don’t know who sings half of the songs on my playlist but I just love music. In fact, if I hear a song I like for the first time, I will sing along to it, chopping my mouth and shouting when I get the lyrics right – just like I’m doing right now and drawing the attention of people in a yellow, rickety bus.

Whatever. They can stare on. Who gives a rat’s ass? My house is just around the corner, anyways. I keep singing and thumping on my steering wheel until I make the turn to my street. I drive past the Onuoras’ residence on my way home. When I arrive at mine, I rush into the shower and step out five minutes later. And this is not because I am in a hurry. I have never understood why people spend forever in the bathroom. Once my body parts are thoroughly washed and rinsed, what else is there to do?

After drying my body, I slip into a thong. No time to rub any type of cream. I brush my hair up in a bun, put on minimal makeup, a pair of diamond studded earrings and matching necklace…and oh, before I forget, I douse my armpits with some deodorant.

I stare in the mirror. I look good to go. A pair of flats compliments the look and finally some spurts of my favorite Victoria’s Secret perfume.

By now Honey is calling. I choose to ignore the call. When I leave the house, I hop on a commercial bike that takes me to theirs. A feeling of relief washes over me the moment I knock on the front door. Honey is there in a flash. When she opens the door, her face lights up in an approving smile.

“Hauwa, you look dashing. Where on earth do you get your dresses from?”

We hug and I walk in.

“Well, I shop here and there,” I answer, my ears picking voices coming from the dining area. “How many people?” I whisper in her ear.

“Just three,” she answers. “Come.”

As I follow her, it occurs to me that I have no idea what this dinner is about. I shrug. I’m hungry, so whatever.

“Look who the cat dragged in,” Honey announces the moment we get to the dining area. I quickly pick out the faces of Jide, Genesis and her husband. There’s a third guy there and I have no idea who he is, although I think I recall seeing him at the appreciation party Honey dragged me to on Friday.

“Huawei,” Jide greets, calling me a name that sounds nothing like mine. I forgive him for it like the million other times I forgave him.

“Good evening,” I greet. Genesis and her husband respond but the guy doesn’t. He simply keeps his stare on me and it is rather uncomfortable. Honey makes things bumpier by placing me directly opposite him.

“Everyone, I want to introduce you to one of my closest friends,” Jide says. “She took care of me like a sister would her brother at a point in my life when I was kind of discovering myself.”

I snort. I don’t mean to but Jide is quite an idiot. Discovering himself? Who is he kidding? He was a dog on heat, and he could have easily smashed me if I gave him as much as a wayward wink. Discovering himself, my ass.

I notice everyone is watching me. Am I supposed to be saying something?

“Nice to meet you all,” I mutter.

Genesis smiles and that beautiful dimple of hers gets my eye. A fancy plate is put before me flanked by impressive stainless steel cutlery and I am asked to feel free to serve myself. There are three dishes and all of them look mouthwatering. I am at a loss on what to choose.

“Try the pasta,” the strange man facing me says. Jide had mentioned his name but I hadn’t caught it. “Everything is awesome but the pasta is a hit.”

Only I hear him speak. Jide is saying something which they are all laughing to.

“Or you could do a buffet of everything,” the guy goes on. I am forced to look at him now. On his face I find a thin, pointed nose that is just like his thin frame. His eyes are like black seeds – dark and cryptic, like the well-groomed beard that stands out from the beards of the other men at the table. These days, men are going full on their stubbles but this particular man keeps it simple, giving him a much younger look. I easily conclude that he is in his forties. There’s a certain poise and calm that come with men his age, just like Genesis’ husband who is seated beside me.

“You want me to help?” he asks.

“Sure.” I smile and watch him begin to bless my plate with pasta, a potato meal that is unfamiliar to me and some rice that is rich with vegetables and bits of beef.

“Thank you,” I smile at him.

He smiles back. My eyes settle on his lips. They seem to belong to someone else and not him. Someone more rascally.

“So Hauwa, Jide tells us you’re a midwife as well,” Genesis’ husband, whose name I just remember as Dominic, speaks. His voice is raspy.

“Yeah, we work in the same hospital,” I reply.

“So where are you from?” Genesis asks as she rests her hand on her chin.

“I’m from Gombe state.”

“You’re a Muslim?”

“No.”

“Forgive my ignorance but I just automatically assumed you were a Muslim because of the name.”

I tell her that I understand. People from the south naturally conclude that everyone who comes from the north is a Muslim especially when they bear the same type of names the Muslims bear.

“So you’re Hausa?”

I excuse her ignorance again with a patient smile. “No, I’m not.”

“Fulani?”

“No.”

“Oh. Seyi’s half-Fulani, half- Yoruba,” she informs me. I store the name in my head. Seyi. He doesn’t look like a Seyi to me. He looks more like someone who would fit in nicely at my hometown.

“You’re from Kwara state?” I ask him.

“Yeah.” I see a little surprise on his face. “How did you guess?”

“It’s obvious.”

“I think you should eat. You haven’t touched your food.”

I lower my eyes to my meal and begin eating. Everything is delicious, I say to Honey. She grins in appreciation.

“I can’t believe you only started cooking recently,” Genesis comments. “I might soon come to you for lessons.”

“Me too,” I add.

Honey is blushing. Jide is proud. Dinner goes on. There’s small talk and big talk and small talk again as we move on to dessert. Honey doesn’t let me leave the table to clear the dishes. She and Jide gladly do the job and return with chocolate cake and ice-cream.

dessert2

By its name and appearance, the taste is orgasmic. When it comes to food, especially sweet things, I am quite expressive. And it is no wonder I let out a moan at the first taste of the ice-cream. There is silence and then laughter follows. I open my eyes which have been shut and stare at everyone shyly.

“I’m so sorry but I can’t help it. This is good,” I compliment.

“Thank you,” Honey responds. Dominic mentions something about ice-creams and they fall back into conversation once more. Seyi joins them this time. For the rest of the dinner, I am ignored by him. Maybe the way I moaned over that ice-cream turned him off. I know his type – the proper gentleman who likes well-behaved women that are about decorum and comportment and all those dainty things stuck-up rich people do.

But why should I even care what he thinks about me? I don’t know anything about him, not even his surname. So, I pretend he is not there as I direct remarks to everyone else but him. Anytime Honey tries to lump us together in a comment or question, I subtly remove him from it. And in that manner the night wears on until they announce that they are ready to leave. I also make known that it’s way past my bedtime.

“You’re leaving too?” Honey links her arm in mine. I am seated in-between her and Jide.

“It’s past ten, Honey.”

“It is, isn’t it? Well, you guys, thank you for coming over,” she says, rising up, after her guests stand to their feet. Hugs and handshakes are shared. I insist that I have to leave as we all walk outside.

“Genesis, do me a favor and take Hauwa home,” Honey requests. “You do remember her house, don’t you?”

“I do. But Seyi came with his car. Maybe she can join him and she’ll give him directions?”

My stare passes from Honey to Genesis and my dumb brain finally registers that the whole dinner has been about getting Seyi and I together. Why didn’t anyone pre-inform me?

“It’ll be my pleasure to take you home, Hauwa,” Seyi states. “If it’s okay with you?”

“It’s fine.” I smile.

He leads the way to his car, and as I predict, it’s a luxurious beast of metal, manly and fitting for his person. His perfume is stimulating but not in an intrusive manner. The way it blends with the leather smell of the car’s interior reminds me of a warm night in a deluxe hotel suite in some European country during winter, where one is lost in the arms of a lover, binging on kisses and sparkling red wine.

“So, which way?”

He has just driven out of the Onuora compound. The direction to my house is on our right but I have every intention of derailing him just to soak up the posh scent of him. The man already has my weakness.

“Turn left,” I direct. The car swerves to the left and goes on a slow cruise. No intruding vehicles or unnecessary pedestrians in our way. I breathe in and get in more of Seyi who remains quiet all through the ride. This time, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. In fact, if he speaks, it will ruin the perfectness of the moment. And it’s as if he knows this. He turns on some music that sounds like a mix of soul and jazz. I don’t ask him who is singing; I just let the moment take me.

“Which way?” he asks again. We are at a junction. To connect back to my house, we can either take left or right but neither of them seem like an option I want to consider.

Just take me away already, Seyi.

“Keep driving.”

He doesn’t say a word. The only time he speaks is when a call comes in and he has to respond to it. After that, he continues on until we get to yet another junction.

“Are you sure we’re not going off your route? I thought you lived near Honey.”

“Um…you can make a U-turn now.”

He gives me a questioning frown that doesn’t last on his face. But again, he is silent. On, we drive, all the way back to my street. We finally come to my house and I ask him to stop.

“You live here?” His head is angled to have a good look at my house which bears a large, black gate and high fence. I live with just one other tenant, who is residing in the apartment upstairs.

“Yes. This is where I live.”

“Cool. So, can I walk you in, just to be sure you get in safely?”

I think of the mess that is my living room and the junk I have in my verandah which I haven’t had time to stash away in its proper place. I will not disgrace my ancestors this night.

“No, it’s fine. Thank you for the ride.”

“Do you mind if I get your number, call you tomorrow or next or maybe when I get home?”

Oh, wow. Call me tonight? Dude wants to get laid badly.

“Well…”

“If you wouldn’t mind, of course.”

I mind. I actually do. In fact, when a guy I meet for the first time asks for my number on that same day, I never pick his calls. They only want one thing from me and I stopped giving it a long time ago, hoping to find the one right man that truly deserves it. So far, no man has been worthy. I am not surprised that Seyi is no different. But curiously, I give him every single digit of my cell phone number. I get a call from him immediately while we both sit there, listening to who I don’t know is singing.

“Goodnight, Seyi.”

“Have a lovely night, Hauwa.”

The way he pronounces my name is beautiful. Not the way they all do it here, ignoring that it has a ‘U’.

I step down from the car and walk home, forcing myself not to look back. But when I make it through the gate, I find a crack between the wall and peep out to see him driving away. I continue to my front door, insert my key in and only then do I realize that I had actually forgotten to wear a bra.

Crap!

Who the hell forgets to wear a bra?!

∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞

“I can’t believe she left her house without a bra.”

My laughter is loud at Jide’s statement. I have seen all sorts of crazy but Hauwa tonight, with her affronting nipples, takes the cake.

“Is she always that crazy?” I ask him as I walk around our bedroom with Jiney resting on my shoulder. She is having a restless night.

“Huawa has always been like that. She’s stylish and gorgeous from afar but when you get to know her, she’s a walking disaster. She sometimes reminds me of that Susan character in Desperate Housewives.”

“You used to watch Desperate Housewives?”

“And Telemundo. When you’re with a woman for hours who is in labor, you have to do everything to entertain her.”

“And Zee World?”

“Nah! I drew the line there.”

I laugh again. Marriage is sometimes beautiful. You discover new things about your partner every day. Last week I found out that Jide eats only the hard core of pineapples and never the juicier parts. Before then, I had never noticed it. Two days ago, he discovered that I have a birthmark behind my right ear.

“So about Didi…” he says, walking towards me. My light mood dies and I exhale heavily. A short while ago, after our guests left, Jide shared with me details of the conversation he had with Oba about Didi and the auctioning of her virginity.

Weird.

And disheartening. I had high hopes for her. And I still do. I don’t intend to leave this matter as is.

“Let’s talk to her,” I suggest.

“Same thought here.”

We put Jiney to sleep.

Didi is in the living room, watching E! and having a bowl of my chocolate ice-cream.

“I took what’s left. It was little,” she tells me.

“It’s fine. I’ve had too much. My boobs will leak if I take more. Enjoy.”

“Thank you.”

We watch TV with her for a while and then I tell her we want to have a talk. She doesn’t object. Jide speaks, asking her is she registered online to have her virginity auctioned. She darts her eyes around before admitting that she had plans to give herself to the highest bidder. But only for fun.

“I was curious. I just wanted to know if it was for real. I promise you, nothing to it.” She says this, giggling and bouncing her chubby body on the sofa.

“You’re sure it was just for the kicks?” Jide probes.

“Ha-ahn, Uncle Jide, I’m not that stupid.”

“But what if one day, this gets exposed online?” I ask. “What will you do? It’s the same thing as prostitution. You are selling your body.”

“I was only kidding, Aunty Honey. I didn’t mean anything by it. If I did, I wouldn’t have done it with Oba’s knowledge. Think about it.”

I do. I think about it and maybe, she is telling the truth. The set jawline of my husband’s face, however, believes differently.

“Well, it’s a good thing you were just goofing around,” he states. “We can’t imagine you doing something so utterly stupid. Popsi would be highly disappointed if he hears about this.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t think it through.”

“Please ask them to delete your account from their database.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“Goodnight.”

Jide walks back to our bedroom while I decide to stop at Yazmin’s. But when I get to her door, I change my mind. I should let her sleep. It’s late, anyway. I join Jide in bed, ready to make love, but he is as tired as I am. We spoon, say a prayer and fall asleep.

When morning comes, I am awoken by the sensation of being filled. I open my eyes and see him on top of me. I respond with an agreeable sigh as my walls slowly stretch to accommodate him. He goes in hard and deep. My body quivers as he begins to grind his body into mine. His movements are fluid and measured, and it’s sweetly torturous. But it’s the sweetest things that don’t last long. Jide soon lets go, just at the moment when I feel like I’m about to have an orgasm.

“Noooo!” I cry, slapping his arms for being a sloppy one-minute man this morning.

“I’m sorry,” he splutters in laughter.

“So not fair.”

He lowers and gives me kisses all over my face until I forgive him. He then tells me the sweetest things every wife should hear each morning.

“I’ll make it up to you, sugams. I promise. Right now, I have to rush to work.”

“Me too. But just one more…” I beg. I can feel him already growing hard again.

He shakes his head. “Not now.”

Wicked man. I push him away. When he leaves to the bathroom, I throw a bathrobe on and go to Yazmin’s bedroom. I knock on the door. She doesn’t respond. I knock again and wait. Still no response. I turn the key and walk in.

The room is empty. The bed is made, blanket folded, floor spotless. But Yazmin is gone.

“Yaz?” I push the bathroom door in. She is not there. I leave the room back to mine and pick up my phone to call her. The line rings on the other end. She answers.

“Yaz, where are you?” I ask like a worried mother.

“Honey…” She sighs. “I’m on my way to Abuja.”

“Abuja? To do what there?”

“I have a plane to catch to Texas. I’m going home, Honey.”

My eyes fill with tears. I slowly sit on the bed and listen to her cry on the phone. It’s depressing.

“Are you coming back?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t love me, Hon. He never did.”

My face is soaking wet now. “And the baby? What will you do?”

“I’m keeping it.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Honey, I gotta go. I have to check in.”

“Okay. Will you call me when you get to Abuja?”

“Yes.”

“I love you, Yaz.”

She is mute. I know she’s still crying.

“Give a big kiss to Tobe for me.”

“I will.”

She hangs up. I rub my palms over my cheeks to dry my tears. What a sad way to start the day. I so hate Emeka right now and I have to let him know how much. I scroll through my contact list and tap on his name. The line begins to ring.

∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞

I am happy today. After one week of being miserable and talking to a therapist, I wake up on the sunny side this morning. Maybe it’s because my husband is lying beside me and we’re back to our old selves, all fight gone, and a resolution reached on how to handle our marital situation with Yazmin.

Last night, Emeka and I had a talk we had both been avoiding for over a year. After he showed up at Mary’s place drunk and calling me Nicole, I gave him a nasty slap, a cold shower and some time to cool off. Afterwards, we spoke and he was open about his feelings for Yazmin.

“I love her, Tola. Maybe not the same way I love you. You’re my best friend but I have deep feelings for Yaz.”

“How deep?”

“I’m finding it hard to let her go. She means that much to me.”

My heart broke a million times hearing him say that but since he was only being honest, I took the revelation in bravely.

“But I will let her go if you just say the word, Tols. I can’t lose you for anything.”

“I don’t want you to let her go. Yazmin loves you, Mex, and she’s human and has a heart that you keep on breaking. Asides that, what will you do with Tobe if you ask her to leave?”

He was quiet. We were sitting out in the dark, just outside Mary’s kitchen. There was a table before us with dinner we both hadn’t touched.

“But this triangle isn’t working, Omotola.”

“It isn’t working because you keep treating Yazmin less than she deserves. Mex, I’m not in competition with her. I’m holding my place in your life. She should feel secure in hers. If she doesn’t, it’s your fault.”

“Can I love you both equally?”

“No one is asking you to. But neither of us should know how you feel about the other. Just make her happy. Is it that hard?”

“No. I’ve just been intentionally indifferent.”

“Please, go and make up with her because we’re all in this together. If one side hurts, the whole body hurts.”

“You’re okay with me spending quality time with her?”

“Haven’t we been doing this already, Mex? And it was going smoothly until you screwed it up. Me, I have a hospital to run and very little time to perform any wifely duties. You and Yaz have all the time in the world. Just make sure you’re not exhausted when I want you.”

I could see relief on his face. Dude was actually scared to have this talk. I had avoided it too but my therapist suggested it and I’m glad I listened to her.

He left his chair and came over to mine. Leaning over from behind, he rubbed my belly and was lucky enough to feel the baby kick.

“Please, eat. I made the food just for you,” I told him. He kissed me. It was a beautiful night that stretched into this beautiful morning.

tols2

And now, while he still sleeps, I leave the bed for my daily exercise. I’m a fit mama. I work out every dawn and dusk. Add that to eating the right meals and staying off anything fatty. I intend to have a healthy baby so that the pain of losing Majekodunmi is totally forgotten. Sometimes I remember him and cry. I wish I hadn’t held his underdeveloped body after I birthed him. The image still haunts me. To know that he was part of me and lived in me and yet died in me is not something I can put in words. I used to be an advocate for abortion until Jide handed me his lifeless, little form, wrapped in a blanket on which friends and family wrote out heartfelt messages. It had been hard for me to lay him to rest. I mourned him for a long time without anyone knowing. It was at that time I sought God and begged him to bring him back to me if he still loved me despite all my sins. God answered my prayers, and today I’m carrying another boy. His name is Akintunde, meaning the warrior has come again. It’s also my late father’s name who was born under similar circumstances.

Nobody knows how much this baby means to me and that is why I won’t let anyone, not even Emeka, give me negative aura during this pregnancy.

I pick out the sound of Emeka’s phone ringing. He is still asleep and doesn’t hear it. I go for it and see that it’s Honey calling. I pick the call; before I can say a word, she goes into a tirade, calling Emeka out for being unfeeling towards Yazmin. I tap Emeka awake. He opens an eye and I put Honey on speakerphone.

“You better not let her leave the shores of Nigeria or you’ll lose her!” Honey warns. “Just go and bring her back, abeg!”

“Honey?” Emeka is confused. Still sleepy. “What’s going on?”

“Yazmin is on her way to Abuja. She’s leaving you. Go and bring her back. She’s at the airport. She’s hurting deeply, Mex. Please, go and bring her.”

“Shit.” Emeka springs up. “Honey, let me call you back.”

He ends the call and immediately dials Yazmin’s number. It rings and stops without her answering. Emeka doesn’t wait. He picks his t-shirt, my car key and his phone. I get a kiss before he leaves. I go back to my exercise, mulling over the whole thing. My youngest sister who is in the States is a hardcore feminist and is not talking to me right now because she feels I am being oppressed over my decision to stay married to a man who has another wife. I told her, during our last conversation, that I was okay with the status quo.

“Polygamy is patriarchal and it is all about oppressing women!” she had shouted. “Will your husband allow you have another husband if the tables were turned?!”

“I have no intention of having another husband.”

“What if you fall in love with another man? Will Emeka let you marry him or have sex with him?”

Her question hit me hard. But the truth was that I was capable of being physical without putting my emotions to it. That was why it was easy to sleep with Jide. Emeka, however, is not that type of person. That is how I know that he loves Yazmin. And it is something I have come to accept. As for how he is able to love two people at the same time, I discovered human beings are capable of doing so, when as a teenager, I found out that my mom was having an emotional affair with our pastor.

My parting word to my sister was that human relationships were complex and Emeka and I were doing fine with our arrangement. Her response to me was, “You’re oppressed, and I am ashamed that you’re my elder sister. Don’t ever call me unless you divorce his ass!”

We haven’t spoken to each other since. I don’t care.

I leave the room to the kitchen for breakfast and to also tell Mary that I have long overstayed my welcome and I’m ready to leave.

I find her and Ekene in the kitchen. They are having a huge fight. I give them some privacy but stay within eye and earshot. Their fight has to do with Ekene’s insistence on not wanting to have a child at this time and Mary doing everything to get pregnant. Unkind words are thrown from both sides. Mary can’t stand the heat and so she leaves the kitchen. Ekene takes a chair. He fiddles with his phone for a while, thumbing over the screen, putting it down, lifting it up and repeating the process a few times. When he stops, he slants his head in my direction.

“Mrs. Onuora, you can come out now.”

Embarrassed, I step away from the darkness and stroll towards him.

“Guess you heard everything.”

“Just a little.”

He stands up. He is all dressed to leave the house. His light blue on dark blue attire, complemented by a dark brown tie and matching shoes remind me of how much of the outside world I have missed. I can’t wait to go back to work.

“Breakfast?” he offers.

“No, I’m good. I’ll do it myself.”

“You’re my guest. Please, sit.” He rolls up his sleeves. “Oats? Pap? Rice pudding? Madam made moi-moi.”

“Oats, please.”

Ekene puts a pot on fire and pours some oat into it, according to my specifications. He adds water and returns to me.

“Can you help me talk to your friend?”

“What’s going on?”

He takes his seat. “Before we got married, I had badly wanted a baby, just to make my mom happy. But she died and Tomiwa and I sat down and decided we would wait two years before we start planning for one. However, three months in, she begins to tell me that she wants to take out her IUD. She wants a baby. I get angry because this is not what we agreed. I scold her, she apologizes and doesn’t bring up the topic for a while but just last month, I stumble across a pregnancy kit she had discarded outside. I ask her about it and she confesses that she had the IUD taken out. I am mad at her. We have a fight and don’t talk to each other for days. Later on, she comes to me and apologizes and tells me how badly she wants a child. But I still don’t want one. Tola, a child changes everything. It changes us, and I’m in this amazing stage with her right now where I’m deeply falling for her.

“You know how our marriage went. It wasn’t really about love. We were both ready and desperate to be married and we did it. Soon after, I really started to fall in love. But all Tomiwa wants from me is a baby. Do you know how that hurts, Tola?”

I nod.

“I feel like your friend may never really fall for me.”

“Don’t say that. These things take time for some people.”

“I’m crazy about Mary. You guys have no idea.”

“So if you love her that much, give her what she wants.”

“So that she’ll push me away? No, thanks. I know how fathers are quickly replaced by their babies. Especially with first time moms. But that’s not what bothers me. I’m afraid that Tomiwa is simply living out a blueprint of how she feels her life ought to go. Find a man, get married and have kids. I don’t think I fit into her grand plan.”

I tell him I think otherwise. Mary doesn’t always talk about him but her feelings are strong. She doesn’t seem like the expressive type.

“She needs time, Kene. And maybe…just maybe a baby will bring you guys together.”

“I doubt that it would.”

He stands up to check my oatmeal. Like Tomiwa, Ekene is stubborn.

∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞

My activities for the day:

>Fight with a bus conductor over fifty naira.

>Insult a man’s entire generation on an ATM line when he tries to jump in front of me from nowhere.

>Get to work and generally ignore everybody. When they try to talk to me, snap at them.

>Get scolded by Wura for my nastiness.

>Enter the bathroom to have a good cry.

>Come back to the office go on Facebook to troll and give all my haters a piece of my mind.

>Return to the bathroom to have another weepy moment when one of them calls me a fat pig and adds a meme to it.

>Sit outside the office in rebellion and decide to do nothing until closing hours.

>Pick up my phone and finally dial the person who is responsible for my anger.

“Can you come over to see me at home?”

“Jide’s place or…?”

“No, the Ditorusin mansion.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in a bit.”

I hear him saying something else but I cut the line. I walk back into the office, pick my handbag and close for the day. I avoid the irritating buses I find outside the building for the sake of world peace. I have decided to use an Uber instead. As I wait for one, I rehearse the words I would tell my dumbass younger brother who feels like he has a say in my life and what happens to my vagina. He is so dead today.

My phone rings. I look up and see my Uber waiting. I hurry towards it. When I get in, I go back on Facebook to finish what I started. I can’t overemphasize how angry I am.

I cuss.

The Uber driver, like the million others out there, doesn’t even as much as blink an eye. I keep cussing and hissing until I arrive home. I enter my room and find stupid Oba waiting.

oba

I’ve always considered him the cutest amongst my brothers. It’s about the swag. He reminds me of DJ Kasbi who for reasons known to him abandoned me when the chemistry between us was peaking. I’ll still take him with open arms if he finds his way back to me. He can gladly pop my cherry for no fee at all.

And why on earth do my moralistic brothers find the idea of me auctioning my virginity such a disgusting thing? The average dumb girl will give it freely to a lost soul who would break her heart. If she can make a lot of cash from it, why not?

“Hey, Di,” Oba greets. I ignore him as I loosen the knot that holds my hair and take off my jacket.

“You won’t talk to me?”

I flash angry eyes at him. He stares back like an innocent child.

“Get off my bed!” I hit him with my jacket.

He stands. My hand knocks off his cap.

“I told you something in confidence, Obasi. Only you! I even remember telling you not to tell anybody! But you go and run your mouth to Jide and his wife because you feel you have a say over my sex life!”

“No, Di…”

“I have not finished talking! Shut up!”

“Please, don’t shout.”

“I can shout as much as I want, Obasi because you’re a Judas! I trusted you with my secret but you betrayed me!”

“Didi, calm down.” He comes towards me. I move back, repulsed by him. “Please, listen to me…”

I don’t know how it happens but I respond to an instant, thoughtless urge to slap him. My palm meets his face and I feel the sting, even more than he does. There is a fleeting moment of silence between us and then he charges at me, grabs the hand that has hit him, swivel me around like I’m some doll and slams me to the wall.

“If you ever try the nonsense you just did, Ndidi, I will beat you without giving a fuck that you’re a girl.”

“Obasi! Have you gone mad?! Let me go!”

“I’ve endured enough of your nonsense – you ordering me around, using me as a driver, spending my money anyhow and on top of that, having the guts to slap me. If you try it again, you’ll regret what I’ll do to you.”

I am shocked. Oba again? My own baby brother manhandling me? Is this spoilt brat out of his mind or what?

I push back. “Leave me alone, Obasi!”

“Apologize.”

“Apologize? Oba, what has gotten into you?”

“Apologize or I’ll not let you go.”

“Hian!”

I can’t believe this. Somebody tell me this boy is joking.

“Oba, let me go!”

“Apologize. It’s simple,” he says into my ear. “Say, ‘I am sorry for how I’ve been treating you.”

I feel hot, painful tears baking my eyes. This boy has gone loco.

“I’m waiting.”

I hesitate for a long time but when I see that he is not budging, I give in.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, just to get him off my back – literally.

He releases me. I turn around and slap him again. This assault packs more punch than the first. Oba takes the same hand, pins it above my head on the wall and pushes my back to it. I open my mouth to speak and he covers it with his.

Revulsion hits me as I use all my strength to push him away.

“You did not just kiss me, Oba!” I scream. “What is wrong with you?!”

We are both heaving as we glare at each other. I’m reeling over what just happened.

“I am your sister, Obasi!”

“You’re not my sister,” he replies before I can finish speaking.

“What is wrong with you?!”

“You are not my sister, Didi! Your mother is not my mother! Your father is not my father! They both lied to you! We, all of us, lied to you!”

I keep breathing like an ox that has just been chased around by a pride of lion. I refuse to believe what I just heard.

“My dad had an affair with your mom in 1995. You were already born then. There was no way he could have been your father.”

“But…”

“They lied to you, Didi. Your real father is probably alive somewhere.”

“No,” I croak.

“Yes, Didi.”

“No. I’m going to call Jide and ask.”

Oba doesn’t stop me, and the fact that he doesn’t, scares me. I reach for my phone and call Jide. He answers immediately.

“Hi, Ndidi.”

I bite my lips before I speak. A sniffle escapes.

“Uncle Jide?”

“Didi, are you okay?”

“No, Uncle Jide.”

“What’s going on? Talk to me.”

I pause. Jide is the sweetest brother on earth. How can he not be related to me?

“Oba… Oba just told me that daddy is not my biological father. Is it true?”

Jide is silent.

“Uncle Jide?” my voice breaks.

“Where is that Oba that told you that nonsense?”

“Is it true, Uncle Jide? Please, tell me.”

“Didi, when you come home, we’ll talk about it. Please, pass the phone to Oba if he’s there.”

I give Oba my phone. He taps the speaker button.

“Obasi,” Jide calls. “Leave where you are to a quiet place so I can insult you right now.”

Oba doesn’t leave. Jide goes ahead with the promised insult but he serves it in Yoruba. I don’t catch a thing he says; however, his reaction to what I told him only confirms what Oba revealed to me. I fall on my bed, my back hitting it hard. As I look up at the ceiling, I begin to cry. My mom, the only person I loved and trusted, lied to me. The man whom I thought was my dad lied to me. My real father must be some scum of the earth, living a terrible life somewhere. What did I do to deserve this, Lord Jesus?

I cover my face with a pillow, praying it chokes me to death. Oba lets me cry for some time but soon I feel him climbing the bed. He kneels astride me and forces the pillow off my face.

“Please, stop crying, Di.”

His voice is gentle, nothing like the Oba who was just rough with me. But his gentleness can’t take away my pain. When his palm tenderly wipes my tears, he finds it a waste of time as his efforts only make me cry more. He keeps begging me to stop but I can’t. The pain is overwhelming. He gives up and lies beside me.

“There’s a silver lining in all of this, though,” he says.

“What silver lining?” I snivel.

“I can make moves on you now that you know we’re not related. We can actually have a thing.”

I lose what little sanity I have left as I let out a miserable wail. This is so not happening to me.

“I hate you, Oba!”

He cackles.

©Sally@moskedapages

Images: FoodbeastWe Heart It, Angela Simmons

It’s Another Novocaine Saturday #14

Missed previous episodes of It’s Another Novocaine Saturday? Catch up herezach-and-zoe

“I don’t want to do this,” Genesis says out loud. She is talking to no one, although she is in the company of Zach and Zoe whom she has just dressed up for an outing. Her expression of frustration gets their attention and they both fix their stares on her.

“You guys want to go see grandma?”

Zoe gurgles.

“You do?”

The gurgle turns into a smile. Genesis sighs, regretting her decision to have the twins visit Mamisi. But the woman had begged to the point of embarrassment and left Genesis with no choice. Now, she wishes she can take back her consent.

“Ma, I’m ready.” Iya Idaya emerges from Genesis’ closet where she went to keep a few clothes. She is set to take the twins to Mamisi’s. She would stay there with them before bringing them back home by six.

“Please, always have your eyes on them.”

“Yes, ma.”

Iya Idaya lifts Zach from the bed. Genesis takes Zoe and together they leave the bedroom. The sound of Dominic’s robust laughter rings through the house as they walk down the stairs. He has a few friends over. Having just had lunch, they are now seated in the living room, drinking over hearty conversation.

“I want you back here with them at 6pm sharp, Iya Idaya. Not later.”

“Yes, ma.”

Genesis and Iya Idaya step outside to a waiting car. They strap the twins in their seats at the back and after giving them each a kiss, Genesis stands and watches as the car drives out of the compound. She goes back into the house only when the gate slides back into place.

Loud laughter from Dominic and his friends greet her when she walks in. She takes a peek to see how things are going, having no desire to join them. But Seyi who is among the group, calls her in. The conversation stops as she enters the room. Seyi makes space for her to sit beside him and as soon as she does, the banter continues.

“I think I’ve fallen in love,” Seyi reveals to her in a low tone.

“Fallen in love? That’s new.”

Seyi leaves the sofa and goes for a glass of wine for her.

“And who is the lucky girl?” Genesis takes the glass offered.

“Someone I’d like to meet today.” Seyi sits and crosses his legs, straightening creases on the navy blue kaftan he’s wearing. A pair of lace-up leather boots completes the attire which Genesis approves of. She has always argued with herself over whom she feels is more stylish between Seyi and Dominic. Although Seyi’s fashion sense is more expressive, it lacks the attention to detail Dominic has. But both men always impress with their looks, pampering themselves with the same attention they give their women. Not that Seyi has had a woman in a while. His last relationship with a much younger girl ended quite dramatically after a pregnancy scare. Since then he has stayed off females completely, concentrating on work as much as Dominic does.

“Remember your friend on Friday night at the party?” He straightens out his moustache.

“What friend?” Genesis asks.

“The fair one who was in the company of her husband, whom you called Sugar or something like that.”

“Honey?”

“Yes, that one. Honey.”

“You’re in love with Honey?”

“No. But maybe if I had met her before her husband did, yeah, probably I’d have fallen for her. She’s got it. And that dress she wore…” Seyi gives a thumbs up.

“You even noticed her dress.”

“I’m sorry, my eyes pick out and appreciate sophistication by default… which reminds me to compliment the way you looked on that night. You killed it as usual.”

Genesis fights off a grin but her dimple betrays her. And for some reason, Dominic’s eye falls on her from across the room, adding to her blush.

“Thank you,” she says to Seyi.

“So, back to my crush.”

“Your crush…”

“She came with your friend.”

“Okay?” Genesis tries to recall the events on Friday night. So much had happened that she gave little attention to the people around her. She can hardly remember all that transpired that night.

“She was wearing a teal dress that had stones on it.”

“Oh! Hauwa!”

Genesis had spent the entire Friday with Honey glamming up for what she thought was a charity ball. On their way to the party, Honey had made a quick stop at the junction of their street and picked Hauwa whose dress left a mark on Genesis.

“I loved that dress she had on,” Seyi comments.

“Me too.”

“So her name is Hauwa?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s a Muslim?”

“I don’t know anything about her, Seyi. She’s Honey’s friend.”

“Is there a way I can see her today?”

“Today?”

Seyi leans in closer. “I thought about her all night on Friday, and the most of yesterday. So, yeah…I think maybe it’s something deep I feel. I need to see her to be certain.”

“I hope you’re not planning to just sleep with her, Shay. She seems to me like a responsible type.”

“I just want to see her before I travel back for business.”

“I think that can be arranged. Give me a minute.”

Genesis leaves the living room and returns some minutes later, talking to someone on her phone. When she sits, she concludes with the call.

“Honey will have us over for dinner tonight,” she informs Seyi.

“I hope we won’t be intruding?”

“She insists. I was going to have us do the ‘we’re in the neighborhood and so we decided to drop by’ type of visit while she had Hauwa over but she insists on dinner. She’s happy to entertain us for the night.”

“Okay. With Nick?”

Genesis glances at her husband. “Your friend is very anti-social. What’s the deal with that?”

“Self-importance, maybe?”

Genesis bursts out laughing. Dominic stares at them with a frown.

“You know he’s an arrogant prick.”

“Hey, he’s not. And to prove to you that he isn’t, we’ll take him along.” Genesis adjusts her sitting to a more comfortable pose. “So tell me what you like about Hauwa?”

“I have no idea, Gen. You guys walked in together and trust me, you were smashing and your friend…”

“Honey.”

“Honey was gorgeous as well, but Hauwa…” He shakes his head. “She got me like damn!”

“You think she could be the one?”

“The one?” He chuckles. “Take it easy. I don’t even know her. She could have a man on the side.”

“Whatever she has, please, Shay, no hit and run with her.”

He taps his chest. “Scout’s honor.”

∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞

I had planned to have a quiet Sunday. Just stay in bed and sleep until I hit the gym in the evening. But family drama will not let me be. First it’s Mex and Yazmin. After ignoring her for a whole week, Mex stomps into my house, barges into Yazmin’s bedroom and demands that she returns home or the marriage is over.

I have never been a fan of Yazmin but I just can’t stand and watch a woman being treated like shit, so I step in and order my brother out of my house. He is tipsy, of course. I don’t give a shit. Instead, I call Oba over and ask him to drive him to Kalu’s. After they are gone, I have a moment with Yazmin which basically ends in me being a shoulder she weeps on for a whole hour. She tells me she desperately wants to leave but is torn not because of the pregnancy but because she still loves Emeka. Even more now, with all their issues. She explains how they fall deeper into each other after every fight.

Crazy. But then the whole love triangle is.

Before I let her be, I notice that she is running a temperature. I get my thermometer and stethoscope. I check her vitals. Things don’t look good.

“Have you started attending antenatal?”

She shakes her head and breaks down again. “I don’t want this baby!”

Good Lord. What am I to do with this mess? Where is Honey when I need her?

“I want to have an abortion.”

I sigh and balance my butt properly on her bed. This is going to take long.

She explains to me her reasons, which are quite logical. Emeka doesn’t want the baby, they never planned for it and she feels guilty over the whole thing. She feels getting rid of it will give her some peace of mind and heal her marriage.

I let her speak until she falls silent. Only then do I make her see reasons in keeping the pregnancy. Unlike many of my colleagues, I am pro-choice and strongly believe that a woman should be allowed to make her own decisions as pertaining to her body. But I’m never going to go outright and tell anyone that comes to me for advise to terminate a living, breathing fetus.

“We will take care of your baby, Yazmin. You have brothers and sisters and parents who will be here for you even if Mex isn’t. We will never break your heart. You are family and so is that baby you’re carrying. So, please, think about it before you make your decision. Okay?”

She nods with a smile so faint. I smile back. I think I have taken to her finally.

I get off the bed and walk to the door. She stops me.

“I want to keep the baby.” She sniffles. I look at her. “Yeah, I want to. I didn’t plan for it but I think it’s innocent and shouldn’t have to die because Mex and I were careless. Yeah, I want to keep it. But will you be my midwife? Please? Because if you’re not, I don’t think I can stay strong.”

I mull over it for some seconds.

“I need to check you. I don’t feel comfortable with that fever you have. Is it okay if I have a quick look?”

“Sure.”

I go to my room and return with a few items. I take Yazmin’s vital signs again and calculate her due date. I find that she is already thirteen weeks pregnant. I question her about her gynecological and reproductive history as well as any medical conditions in her family that I need to know of. After that, I examine her for gum disease which can be an indicative factor for preterm labor. Done with that, I check her breasts, abdomen, and listen to her heart once more. Finally, I do a thorough but delicate pelvic exam. This is one of the reasons the gynecologists at the hospital where I work don’t really like me. I have been accused of trying to take over their jobs. But that’s far from it. I am just thorough with my methods, having trained specifically as a gynecological nurse before moving on to midwifery. This is all part of my process. The doctors usually run the first tests and once the pregnancy clocks twelve weeks, I take over, but sometimes, I am stubborn and break the rules with patients who have little trust in their doctors.

“Tomorrow, I’ll take you to the hospital to have some tests run.”

“Are they going to do another pelvic exam?”

“Yes. I’ll refer you to an OBGYN who will run further tests.”

“I always freak out with pelvic exams but you were gentle and I hardly felt a thing.”

I hold my tongue. I am not to say thank you to that. I have just literally shoved my fingers into her vagina. I doubt that Emeka will find it funny.

“I’ll be there with you,” I promise. She seems relieved.

“I’ll get you something for the fever and a full bottle of water. Please stay hydrated, draw the shades close, turn off your phone, use earplugs and go straight to sleep. Didi will watch Tobe.”

“Thanks.”

I stroll out and find my wife’s beautiful face smiling at me as she steps out of the kitchen. She has just returned from the market where she went to get foodstuff for tonight’s dinner with the Ditorusins.

“Is Yaz okay?” she questions.

“She’s fine. Nothing a little rest and Tylenol won’t fix. How are you?”

“I’m good.”

The scent of her perfume is like a pheromone and I follow it until my lips are tasting the sweetness of her mouth.

“Can I help out with something?”

“No, I got it all covered, hotstuff. Just sit down and put your ear out for Jiney when she wakes up.”

I’m not in the mood for Jiney or anything else. Having just had a taste of Honey’s lips, I want the rest of her. However, I take a couch in the living room and visit my blog to do some technical work in the backend. Barry makes it hard for me to concentrate. Chewing my jeans and yapping for no reason is his idea of male bonding. I ignore him and when he gets tired, he sits quietly beside me. By now I’m done with my blog and I’m trying everything I can to get laid but nothing is working. Not even when I use Barry whom Honey now considers the cutest thing asides Jiney. Amused at my antics, she takes a picture of both of us and quickly uploads it on Instagram, tagging me.

724715-1She captions it: all shades of cuteness. Is your hubs as hot as mine?

I tap on the little heart icon to like the picture, agreeing with her about my cuteness. I seem to have gotten sexier as a married man. I tell her that and give her kudos, all in a bid to get tail but Honey is not falling for my sweet mouth.

“Later in the night when I’m tired, you’ll be molesting me anyhow,” I tell her as I follow her into the kitchen.

“I’ll touch you anyhow I want, hotstuff,” she responds, stroking my junk as her other hand stirs something in a pot on fire. I drag her away and pin her to the wall for a steamy kiss but my phone lodging in my back pocket starts to ring. Honey pulls it out and hands it to me.

“Nne,” she utters.

I answer the old woman’s call.

Nne’m oma, how are you, darling?”

“Tired,” my mother answers. “Please come and speak sense to your younger brother before I pour pepper in his eyes.”

“Nne, I have washed my hands off Emeka…”

“Which Emeka? I’m talking about Obasi.”

“Oba is at home? I sent him to Kalu’s a short while ago.”

“He’s here with me. He just got in and it seems he has lost his mind with the nonsense he’s telling me. I will soon slap him and pour that pepper in his eyes.”

She then goes off in Igbo in one long ass lamentation.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.” I groan silently as she rings off. Honey gives me a comforting peck. To show appreciation, I squeeze her boob and correctly aim for the nipple. She shrieks, pulls back and smacks me. Barry, who has been watching us, begins to bark at me. The beast is quite protective of her.

“Shattap.” I playfully kick it and it goes for my Nike slipper. We struggle for a while before I fling it off and hurry out of the house.

A sunny sky meets me outside. No, scratch that. Burning hell meets me outside. My car offers little comfort. The AC is bad. I let down the windows and hit the streets.

I yawn. I am tired, hungry and horny. The last thing on my mind is Oba and Nne’s drama. I pray it doesn’t take my time.

I arrive at the family house and from the gate I hear Nne’s raised voice. When I get in, I expect to see Oba in the same state but I find him seated on a couch in the living room, thumbing over his phone screen.

“What’s going on?”

“Ask her,” he replies. I look at my mother and I don’t need to be told that she has gotten into her bitch mode. This happens once a year. Woe betides the person that is responsible for bringing out this side of her. What is her grouse this year? Oba wants to leave the house and move in with a colleague. That is all! Nothing else. To her, Oba is still her little baby boy and going to live on his own means he has joined bad gang. The old woman is not having it. And yes, she has fresh pepper, pounded and waiting to pour into his eyes.

I put my arms around her and lead her to the kitchen where I sit her down, placate her and explain to her that Oba is now a grown man and should be allowed to do as he pleases.

“Nne, one day he will get married and leave you and your husband. Will you follow him and his wife to his house?”

At this, she keeps quiet.

“He is an adult now, mom. Please, it’s time you let him be.”

“Abeg, help me tell her.” Oba is standing by the door, hands in his pockets. “She doesn’t want me to go, yet she won’t let me have any girl over.”

“So that you will be romancing them in my parlor, in broad daylight!”

“Will you let me carry them to my room?”

“You see it? You hear your brother, Jideofor? All he wants to do is fornicate, and that is why he will not leave my sight! I can’t have a useless son, going around with a wayward penis!”

“Jide did it and nobody said anything.”

I turn to him. “Hey!”

“Jide did it and that’s why you too you want to do it, okwa ya? I will not only rub pepper in your eyes! I will hold that your thing and bathe it with the pepper! Open that your nonsense mouth again and see what will happen to you!”

“Mommy, free me nau! Let me go! It’s just out of respect that I’m still here o! You know I can walk out and there’s nothing anybody will do to me!”

I see hurt in my mother’s eyes. I gesture to Oba to leave. He goes away, grumbling. I take her hands in mine.

“Nne, you know you’re fighting against the wind. You know that, right?”

Tears fill her eyes.

“This is not a crying matter nau.”

“No. You don’t understand. It’s your father’s late mistress that is responsible for all of this!”

“How did she enter this talk now?”

“The only reason I am holding on to Obasi is because of that her useless daughter.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I suspect something is going on between two of them.”

“Oba and Ndidi?”

“Yes. I don’t want to ask him because it will be like I’m accusing him. I have not seen anything directly that connects them but I sense it, Jideofor. I sense it. And I don’t want that girl in our lives in any way. She has the same strange, evil spirit her mother had. She will ruin my baby. Please, help me talk to him. If he can stay away from her, then I’m fine with him living anywhere he desires to but as it stands, I want him under my nose all the time before she will destroy him. Please, talk to him.”

Wow. What a lot to take in. Oba and Didi? It’s unlikely. Nne must be imagining things. Nonetheless, I assure her that I’ll have a word with him.

“Let’s go for drinks,” I tell him as I come out to the living room. He picks his phone and follows me out. I allow him drive my car. I sit back and turn the radio on.

“So, what’s going on between you and Didi?”

Oba looks at me for some seconds and then throws his head back in laughter.

“Nne suspects there’s something between us?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Ignore her jare. There’s nothing going on between me and Didi.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

And so I rest the matter. We stop at a sports bar, play a game of pool over drinks and after two bottles, Oba begins to sing a different tune.

“I have a crush on Didi,” he confesses. “Basically she’s been using me as her driver since she came to Lagos. And hey, I’m not complaining. She’s hot. I’m her baby brother, so it’s all good. We get to hang out a lot…”

“And you drop her for dates with other guys and spend money on her, abi?”

He gives an uneasy laugh. “I really, really like her, Jide, but it’s not just the brother and sister issue. I mean, I could just tell her that we’re not related.”

“And watch yourself burn in popsi’s hell.”

“I can handle that. But here’s my issue with Didi – and I’m not supposed to tell anyone this. Can you keep it to yourself?”

“Talk already.”

He breathes out loudly. Whatever he is about to say is difficult to let out.

“Didi is auctioning her virginity online to the highest bidder.”

I put my beer bottle aside.

“The URL of the website is sellyourvirginity.org and Didi is registered there.”

I quickly pick my phone up and type in the site’s URL in my Google Chrome.

“You can’t find her there. It’s a very private site that protects its members. It’s run by Bunny Ranch in the US.”

“And what’s that?”

“A brothel. Once Didi’s auction ends, they’ll fly her to the ranch to meet her bidder and basically, she’ll be stuck there as a ho’.”

My tummy churns. “Oba, are you sure of all you just told me?”

He nods.

“Can you please help her before she fucks her life up?”

I am dumbfounded. Unable to say anything, I down my beer as I ignore my ringing phone. Honey is calling. I guess the Ditorusins have arrived. I call one of the bar girls to come over with our bill. As I wait for her, I take a good look at my brother’s face and feel sorry for him. Dude is really in love.

“Not Ndidi,” I tell him as I rest a hand on his shoulder. “Find someone else, Oba. Not her. She’ll break your heart.”

©Sally@moskedapages

Images: www.pinterest.com, dariuswilliams

It’s Another Novocaine Saturday #13

Keep up with It’s Another Novocaine Saturday here

He is never this quiet. Not even on days when he goes on a hyper mode and has to medicate himself to calmness. Wura worries about his state of mind. He is seated on the steps that lead out to the backyard from the backdoor of his kitchen, smoking cigarettes. He has had one too many for the day and it bothers her. Watching him as a mother would her newborn, she is just coming to realize that the responsibility of protecting him is now all on her.

His mother passed away on Sunday night and was buried not long after. Mahmud had received the shocking news without showing any form of reaction. He traveled home to Sokoto the next day and returned on Wednesday and since then he hasn’t been the same. Wura has been unable to reach him and she doubts that she can understand his pain. As the lastborn, Mahmud had been his mother’s pet. Wura is not sure she can take the woman’s place.

“Tokunboh, there’s dinner.” Wura moves towards him. “You’re going to eat today, right?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“But you’re going to have a shower, at least?”

“Is the stink that bad?”

“No. It’s just that you haven’t showered in three days.”

He lights a fresh cigarette and turns his head away from her and she immediately knows he is going to be unreachable for the entire night.

“I’ll be in the room if you need me.”

She walks back into the kitchen, picks her dinner and goes to his bedroom. Tomorrow promises to be a busy one for her but for this night she will have a good rest. She takes her dinner at a relaxed pace as she keeps up with her social media accounts which haven’t been attended to in a long while. These days she is a celebrity, thanks to the Love Concert. But she is yet to find a way to respond to the growing popularity as it comes with both the good and bad. There are people who are yet to forgive her for her past, and would, at every occasion remind her of it.

Her eyes cloud over they fall on a photo comment on her Facebook fan page. Someone posted a munched photo from one of her sex videos and added the caption: A leopard cannot change its spots.

Wura deletes the comment and puts her phone away. She forces down a sob but she fails. Her mood plummets and she buries her head in a pillow for a good cry. She has come to accept that her past will always keep up with her but she is yet to find a way to handle it whenever it shows up. Every bad comment from a hater always gets her down in the dumps. Without Mahmud, she would have fallen apart.

Finding a short moment of respite after her tears, Wura goes for a long, cold shower and steps out to find Mahmud in the bedroom, popping a couple of pills. She notices he has switched on the nightlight, bringing in dimness to the room.

“Should I get dinner for you?” she asks.

“I’m not hungry. Thanks.”

He takes off his t-shirt and shorts and tosses them in a corner. He now walks towards her, stops and holds her eyes for a while.

“Thank you for being here with me, mami. I’ve been trying to get my thoughts together, to understand why it all happened. I thought it’d be the old man to go, I was even ready for it but life throws in this curve and I’m yet to understand it.”

“God knows best, Mahmud.”

“Thank you for being here…”

She touches his face. “Please, don’t thank me. Your loss is my loss, Tokunboh.”

“Still…”

He pulls her in for a hug that expresses his distress. Minutes later, following a shower, Wura sets his dinner before him and persuades him to eat. Being his first meal in three days, he takes his time. She sits beside him, distracting his mind with tales of how her week has been.

“How does someone sleep and never wake up?” he asks from nowhere, cutting her off midway. “She was fine. You saw her. Wasn’t she looking okay to you?”

“She was, Mahmud.”

“Then how can she just go to sleep and refuse to wake up?”

Wura doesn’t have an answer for him. She lifts his dinner tray off his laps and takes it to the kitchen. When she returns, she finds a cigarette between his lips and moisture in his eyes. She fears that he is withdrawing from her again, so she picks her handbag and car key and stands before him. She is about to tell him she is set to leave but he takes her hand.

“Please, stay.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow evening, TK. I have to go to bed early…”

“Stay for a bit, please.”

She drops her car key and handbag and sits beside him as before. She watches as tears leave his eyes and disappear in the thick stubble of beard he hasn’t groomed for a while. The long drags of cigarette smoke and the manner in which his fingers keep combing through his this hair in a back and forth manner show his pain. There’s a silent heave, a sniffle and he throws his weight backwards on the bed, his head hitting a pillow.

Wura follows him and finds that the tears are more now, gushing down the sides of his face. In a tender manner, she wipes them; and while doing so, speaks comforting words to him. But he stops her hand, kisses it and turns to face her. She doesn’t object when he moves closer and places his lips on hers. She is also silent when his hand leaves hers to rest on her waist. His mouth tastes salty, smoky and delicious at the same time, and his kiss comes to her with intensity.  He leaves her lips to bury his face in her neck. His hot breath and the graze of his stubble give rise to goosebumps on her skin. When his lips trace their way back to her mouth again, leaving wet patches in their path, Wura allows herself feel the familiar tremors of desire. And because she hasn’t been in this place in a long time, the spark is instantaneous. Every nerve in her is awake and she responds to Mahmud’s ministrations, shutting down the cautioning voice in her head.

What follows is a series of lovemaking sessions that last for most of the night, bringing to Wura the kind of pleasure she has fantasized over for months on end. When she finally shuts her eyes in sleep, the morning after is the last thing on her mind. All that has happened feels right, and her emotional state of mind being the neediest, finds gratification in Mahmud’s arms.

sexBut the morning comes faster than she wants it to, and it brings with it censure. She opens her eyes in a slow and lazy manner and shuts them again to feel a quick rush of tears burn them. She then buries her face in shame. After a while, she quietly slips into her clothes, picks her handbag and begins out when Mahmud calls her back for a kiss.

“Let me take you home,” he says, getting off the bed. Her head shakes. She can’t stare at him in the eye.

“Just take care of yourself,” she tells him.

He pulls her in for a hug that ends with another kiss. She tries to leave but his hand resting on the nape of her neck keeps her back as his lips tastes hers once more.

“Mahmud…” she groans. He breaks away but stays so close she can feel his breath on her cheeks.

“I’m sorry yesterday happened,” he whispers. “Knowing you, you’re going to beat yourself over it and I feel terrible… Just…don’t sink under.”

“Please, let’s not have this talk. You lost your mom and you’re still grieving.”

“I don’t want you to feel bad over what happened…”

“I already feel bad, Tokunboh. I feel like shit.” Wura turns around, giving him her back. “I’m not so sure about me, if I’ll be the wife you think I’ll be.”

Mahmud’s full brows come together in a scowl. “Why?”

“See how easy it was for me to have sex with you? I couldn’t hold myself. What if after you marry me and my inner slut comes out and I cheat on you?”

Inner slut? What manner of rubbish talk is this, Woo?”

Wura gives no answer.

“So because you make love to the man you love, the father of your child, you’re now a slut?”

“Last night was not supposed to happen.”

“You’re right. It was not supposed to happen but I needed you and you were there for me. You took away the pain. Call it pity sex or whatever but I needed you.”

He walks around to face her.

“We were never supposed to happen, Belinda. Not with our different religious backgrounds and our pasts. But we’re here, fighting the odds, and I know we’ll make it work. You just need to believe it and never let anything from outside or within tear us apart.”

“I can’t think straight right now, Tokunboh. I have to go home and get my mind off everything.”

He covers her hands in his.

“Okay, I’m sorry about last night. I should have stopped us but I was as carried away as you were. At the same time, I’m not really sorry because being with you is what I always want to do. Don’t give up on us after what happened. I see you want to. I see it in your eyes. Please, hang on. We’ll get through this.”

Wura puts his hand to her cheek as tears let down.

“I so want to believe you, Mymood,” she says to him. “But can’t you see? There’s always something ready to tear us apart. First it was my past, then your family and now, this… Maybe we should just let go.”

Mahmud drops his hands. “We won’t.”

“It’s going to hurt now but we’ll both get over each other in the end.”

“You’re being ridiculous, Wuraola. It’s just sex!”

“It’s not just sex, Mahmud! What we did was wrong!”

“I am not going to lose you over what happened last night! Period!”

He gives the conversation an abrupt end by marching to the door.

“Since you’re irritated, you should go.”

She picks her handbag and walks to the door. Mahmud stops her and delivers one last kiss that sends her back to her emotions. After that, he holds her in a squeeze.

“Please, hang in there.”

He holds on to her a little longer and then lets go. His ringing phone takes him to his bed and while he attends to it, Wura quietly makes her exit. It is still dark outside when she leaves the house. A layer of moisture has settled over her car. She sits in and painful tears fill her eyes. She does not want to be taken by her emotions but the guilt cannot be helped. She remains in the car until the first light of the morning breaks. Only then does she drive home.

She enters a house that is dead quiet save for the hum of the deep freezer. Out of it she picks a bowl of chocolate ice-cream and retires to her bedroom where she consumes the entire thing without break. Afterwards, she hides beneath the blanket as the tears return.

Today is Sunday. She should be getting set for church but not in this state her heart is in. She is convinced God is disgusted at her.

Crying wears her out until her eyes shut. She doesn’t know for how long she sleeps but a long while after, she is awoken by Lexus’ voice in her ear.

“Move jare, let me lie down with you.”

Wura opens her eyes.

“Woo-woo, shift.”

She moves a little and allows Lexus in. They both leave their heads peeking out of the blanket.

“I need to talk to you about something,” Lexus says.

“You woke me up from sleep, so you better shoot.”

“It’s about Kasi.” There’s elation in Lexus’ tone. “I think I’m in love with him.”

Wura hisses. “I thought you had something new to tell me. Be going, let me go back to sleep jare.”

“No, no, this is deep, Woo. This is really deep, like massive. Like, I’m all in. Like, head over heels kind of shit!”

In spite of her mood, Wura smiles.

“So we’ve spent the entire week together – with Trini of course. And I think we make the cutest, little family.”

“I can imagine.”

“The arrangement is that we take Trini to daycare and then stay in and fuck all day and bring her back home, feed her, put her to bed and fuck all night.”

“Can you warn me next time before you use the F-word so lavishly?”

“Fuck?”

“Yes, stop saying it.”

“It’s just a word, Woo-woo.”

“Aunty, just go on with why you’re here.”

“Woo, have you had so much sex you get sore at first? But it’s the good sore that makes you want more; and then you get more until you become unsore and all you can feel is pleasure. Can you relate?”

Wura simply smiles.

“That’s where I am right now. But that asides, I think I really love Kasi.”

“You’ve said that already.”

“No, I mean, I love him enough to want to wear a ring and do the whole forever thing with him.”

Wura gives her a proper stare. “That’s serious, Lexi.”

“I know and it scares me because in New York, he was all about settling down and I freaked out and left him because I wasn’t ready. And now, I think I might’ve scared him off completely. As beautiful as our one week of smashing was, he hasn’t mentioned anything about us getting really exclusive.”

She sits up abruptly. “Woo, how do I propose to him?”

Wura’s brows shoot up.

“Propose?”

“Yeah. How do I say ‘Kasiobi, let’s get married?’ Of course, I don’t want to get married immediately because the entire concept still freaks me out but I want to own him exclusively.”

“You’re not joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking, Woo? Kasi’s ass is mine and no Chichi or Shakira or any of them smelly ass thirsty bitches will touch his dick again.

Wura can’t help but laugh.

“Yes, I want to be his wife. Maybe next year or the year after. No, not the year after. That would be too far. Next year is fine. Trini has to start walking so she can be our perfect, little flower girl.”

“I can’t believe you’re going all girly on me this morning, Lexi. Your father’s prayers are finally being answered.”

“But seriously, how do I pop the question?”

“I hope you’re not planning to go on a knee with a ring.”

“Naa. That’s mainstream.”

“No. Actually, Lexus, that’s masculine.”

“Okay. So, any feminine ideas?”

“For starters, don’t buy a ring. Like I said, masculine.”

“Okay?”

“You can just talk to him. You could say, ‘remember we used to talk about settling down a lot?’”

“Naa. I don’t think I want to dredge up that past. It’s painful for both of us.”

“Then just leave hints.”

“Hints are going to fucking take forever! Urghh! Can’t I just say, ‘Kasiobi, marry me!’?”

“No!”

“Why?”

“Because girls don’t propose. The guy has to do it with a ring and on one knee and it has to be a huge surprise.”

“Who makes these rules?!” Lexus cries out in frustration.

“I don’t know. Just don’t propose.”

“Oh, before I forget, awesome surprise party on Friday. I had fun.”

“Thanks. All your dad’s idea. He just wanted to appreciate you and the boss lady.”

“I can’t believe I actually cried when he asked her to dance Unchained Melody with him. All I saw was that scene in Ghost with Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze. It was so beautiful, and I think it’s what inspired me to want to make this bold move with Kasi.”

“I’m proud of you sha. You’re all grown up now.”

Lexus sticks out her feet and rests them on the footboard. “So can you be a darling and throw in a good word to Kasi for me?”

“How?

“Just let him know I’m ready to take the plunge. He can propose any time, from now till the end of the year. I am so ready. Hair, nails and makeup will be on point every day for the perfect moment.”

Wura falls apart in laughter. “Tonbra, you will not kill me o! Come and be going, let me go back to sleep, abeg. I no get your time this afternoon.”

“You’ll talk to him for me? Maybe pick out the ring? It should be a blue or black stone. Nothing feminine.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank you!” She hugs her. “I love you, Woo-woo.”

“Me too, baby.”

“Meanwhile, I’m hungry. What did you cook?”

“Nothing jare.”

“Let me call Genesis to know if she has food.”

“She always has food. Go and raid her kitchen.”

“You want to come along?”

“Nope. I want to sleep. Now, go.”

Lexus stumbles down. She pushes her legs into a pair of crocs.

“Wait, though. You didn’t go to church, Woo?”

“No.”

“What’s wrong? Your eyes are swollen.”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

Lexus abandons plans of leaving and takes the bed again.

“What happened?”

Wura lowers her eyes. “Mahmud and I had sex yesterday.”

“Ooooh.” Lexus moves closer. “How was it? Give me deets!”

“It was great, Lex,” Wura replies. “But you know it was wrong.”

“Nope. I don’t know that.”

“I was waiting until we got married…”

“But then you got horny and did it. So what? You’re going to kill yourself now?”

“You won’t understand.”

“No, I don’t. I’ve never understood your religiosity. But hey, it’s your life. Keep on killing yourself over something you enjoy doing. But seriously, how was it? I want details.”

“Go home, Lex.”

Lexus springs up. “Stop regretting what you did, Woo. It was just sex.”

“Just go.”

“Breathe in and out. And tell yourself ‘I love sex and it’s okay to do it with Mahmud’.”

Wura flings a pillow at her. “Be going.”

“See ya!”

Lexus steps out and Wura dives back under the blanket but that only lasts a matter of seconds as she hears Lexus calling out Ralph’s name. Knowing her alone time is over, Wura walks out to the living room where she finds Ralph and Lexus conversing.

“You’re the worst niece ever, Tonbra,” Ralph states. “You don’t even care about your cousins.”

“Uncle, me and your offspring are not age mates. What am I going to be discussing with them? How to wrap weed or have safe sex?”

Pastor Ralph cringes. Wura laughs.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to connect with them.”

“I thought so too.”

“We should have a family dinner or something one of these days…”

“Yeah…before Aunty Maggie disappears with all your money to London. You know I never liked her, right? Just putting it out there.”

Wura’s jaw drops.

“Eva didn’t like her too,” Lexus continues. “Thought she was too stuck-up. But it was weird that Eva thought Wura would have been better for you.”

Ralph looks at Wura who merely frowns at Lexus.

“I’d have been calling you ‘Aunty Woo-woo.”

“Lexus, just go nau,” Wura begs with a giggle. “Be going.”

“Yeah, Uncle Ralph, let me split and go and see Zach and Zoe before they start looking at me weirdly like your kids do.”

“Okay, sweetie.”

They hug and Lexus makes her exit. Ralph turns to Wura.

“You look tired.”

“Just sleepy.” She yawns.

“Why weren’t you in church today?”

“I had a little fever,” she lies, “but I’m better now.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, hopefully the good news I have for you will change your mood.”

Wura sits up and Ralph takes a seat as well, resting his feet on the center table. He is wearing a pair of loafers that match well-ironed grey pants and a black shirt. She notices he has lost some weight.

“Should I get you something to eat?” she asks.

“No, I’m fine. Just brace yourself for this massive gist.”

“I’m all braced up.”

“You remember the record company that contacted you two years ago to have you sign a recording contract?”

Wura nods but with a drop in enthusiasm. The record company in question had come to her for a three-year recording contract with an offer of a few million bucks and a tour around Africa but they had a single clause that put an end to the deal. They wanted her to break up with Mahmud, on the reason that she couldn’t be a renowned gospel artiste and have a relationship with a Muslim. This had happened shortly before her videos became viral and being so invested in her relationship with Mahmud then, she had walked away from the deal.

“But Pastor Ralph, you know I want nothing to do with those people.”

“I know but they have come with something different this time. Something you can’t resist.”

“Okay?”

“Fo Yo Soul Recordings is signing three musicians in Africa. One from SA, another from Ghana and then, wait for it… You and I, as a duo. As a team.”

Wura gasps, head pulled back, mind taking in the news. “You’re joking.”

“I’m serious.”

“For real, Pastor Ralph? As in, for real?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my God!” Wura springs up and screams as she hops around like a little girl. She stops and asks Pastor Ralph if he’s pulling her legs.

“No.”

She screams out again and stops once more. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“It is.”

“Fo Yo Soul?”

“Yep.”

“As in Kirk Franklin’s record label?”

“Yep.”

“Oh my God! Oh my God! I can’t breathe.” She fans herself.

“You need water?”

“Yes.” She doubles over, hands on her knees. “No, I’m fine,” she says when she sees him rise up. She straightens up too. There are tears of joy dancing in her eyes.

“Finally.” The words come out in a whisper.

“Finally.”

“Oh God.” She slumps back into her chair and starts sobbing. Ralph watches her for a bit but when she doesn’t stop, he takes the space beside her and places his hand on her back.

“I never thought this day would come,” she cries. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“You better believe it.”

“But I’m not worthy, Pastor Ralph. I don’t deserve it.”

“Stop saying that…”

“No.” She sniffles. “You don’t understand. Last night…”

She sniffles again.

“I slept with Mahmud.”

Ralph’s hand leaves her back. She covers her face.

“Slept with him, as in, on the same bed…and nothing happened?”

“Everything happened.”

Ralph shuts his eyes in disappointment.

“I am so sorry. So, so sorry.”

He doesn’t say a word. His silence stretches as her sobs intensify. But somehow he pulls her close for a hug.

“Oh, my darling Wuraola, you’re always a mess.”

“I’m sorry.”

“But God loves you like that, you know? In your weakness, he’s strong. Strong for you. Don’t give up on yourself. He’s still molding you.”

“But I keep falling.”

“He will restore you, baby girl. Just hold on, and please, stop crying.”

His words only pull her deeper into her emotions. He is patient with her; he lets her unburden and it takes quite a while. When the last tear is gone, wiped by his hanky, he releases her.

“You want to hear me play something? It’s a new song.”

Wura nods. Somewhere outside the house Bilal is screaming at the top of his lungs in excitement. She guesses he is playing football with her cousin. She is glad he is off her hands today. Her mood wouldn’t have been able to contain him.

Pastor Ralph leads the way to her studio. When they get in, she finds some corner on the floor to sit on while his fingers caress the black and white notes of her piano.

©Sally@moskedapages

Image: weheartit

It’s Another Novocaine Saturday #12

Read Previous Episodes Of It’s Another Novocaine Saturday

Wura is swamped at work. Genesis, having explained that she won’t be at the office for whole week, has dumped all her duties on her. By 11am Wura is already feeling the heat of having so much to do and yet so little time. She is irritable and everyone knows better than to get on her nerves; everyone except Didi who waltzes in, chatting away on her phone.

“Where are you coming from?” Wura asks. She has just stepped out of her office for a break to put her thoughts together. Didi’s appearance disrupts the moment of bliss.

She stops at her cubicle and stares at Wura with a clueless expression.

“In my office,” Wura says, standing up from where she is sitting. Didi follows her back into her office.

“So, where were you coming from?” Wura goes around her table.

“I had a visitor. I was outside with him.”

Wura takes her seat. “You do realize this is a job, right? Not some socializing spot where the men in your life drop by anytime they want and you go out to entertain them. It’s becoming quite irritating the way they keep coming here. I know you’re in your prime and you’re beautiful and you’re getting all of this attention but my dear, this is a job. I will not have you entertain any more men during work hours. Understood?”

“Yes, ma.”

Wura stretches her hand and picks up a fancy, black folder from her desk and pushes it to Didi. “Client is a five-year-old boy named Samuel. His birthday is on Saturday. You’re in charge.”

Didi’s eyes widen. “Me? I’m in charge?”

“Yes. Don’t disappoint me. And there’s better news. His parents have given consent to us to record the entire planning process. So, congratulations, you get to have your face on TV as an event planner when the reality series drops on DSTV.”

Didi is stunned. “Me?”

“Yes, you, Ndidiamaka. Production crew will be here by twelve to prep you up. Hand them over the folder so they can plan their shoot.”

“Thank you very much, Wura.” Didi beams. “I will not disappoint you.”

“You better not.”

“Thank you!”

Excited, Didi leaves the office.

Wura yawns, pushes back her chair and tries not to recall how the previous evening had gone for her. She had been in the company of Mahmud, Asma, Asma’s husband and one of Mahmud’s childhood friend from the north who had come visiting with his wife. They were at the mall to see a movie. Having just gotten their tickets, they stopped for popcorn and drinks. But from nowhere, a pair of girls, dressed rather lewdly, came towards them and screamed out Wura’s name so loudly everyone in the area turned. Wura merely smiled back as embarrassment filled her face. The girls were colleagues from her stripper days in Port Harcourt and clearly, nothing seemed to have changed about them. Calling her “Belinda”, they went into classic vulgar mode as their type are known for. Wura could only stand there and do nothing as they dredged up her past without apology.

“But you don clean up now oo!” one of them said, touching her face. “You don fat up sef. See as your boobs don full,” she added and squeezed Wura’s breasts with both hands. It was then Wura felt she had had enough. Only Mahmud was standing beside her now. The other couples had shifted away and stood by to watch the spectacle.

“Girls,” Wura moved closer to Mahmud, “this is my fiancé and we’re here to see a movie with friends. If you don’t mind, we’ll be excused.”

Cringing as she turned, Wura hoped they would just get the message and disappear. Luckily for her, they did. She faced Mahmud to apologize.

“It’s okay, mami.”

“I’m so embarrassed right now.”

“Totally understandable but don’t let it ruin our evening. Let’s get popcorn.”

They walked back to the others and no one made a comment about what had happened. The movie compensated for the awkwardness but not for Wura. As the outing drew to an end, she concluded that her past was never going to let her go.

Fighting hard not to recall the incidence as she sits before her desk this morning turns out to be a waste of time, so Wura thinks up another way to redeem her image. Does she make plans for dinner tomorrow and invite Asma, her husband and Mahmud’s friends? They need to see her as a responsible mother and not the person those girls had painted her out to be. She picks up her phone and calls Mahmud to ask his opinion. He thinks it’s unnecessary for her to do anything to save face.

“Asma and her husband already love you, Woo. As for my friend and his wife, I don’t care what they think. Do I go forming opinions about his wife whose sense of makeup screams cheap Hausa ho’? No. So, let them think whatever. You’re my wife and I love you, past and all. In fact, I can’t wait for you to pole-dance for me. In our new house, I will install a pole in our bedroom and you’re going to slide up and down the thing for my pleasure.”

Wura breaks out in laughter. Mahmud has a way to always make her happy no matter the mood.

“Just enjoy your day, mami. Asma is on the other line. I have to go.”

“Bye.”

The line goes dead. Wura, feeling lighter, faces her work.

∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞

Dominic walks into the house with Genesis coming behind. The moment he steps in, he finds the trio of Lexus, Zoe and Zach, waiting to give him a hero’s welcome. There’s a welcome banner of balloons hanging above them. The twins are wearing party hats and fighting over a blow horn.

Dominic finds the scene adorable. Lexus runs to him and slows down when she’s just a step away.

“Can I hug you? Will it hurt if I do?”

“No.”

She moves forward and rests her head on his chest as she encloses her arms around him. “Don’t scare me like that again, dad.”

“I won’t.”

He kisses her forehead and she moves away to let him lift Zoe who has crawled to his feet. Zach remains where he is, trying to rip the blow horn he bullied out of his sister in pieces. On his way upstairs, Dominic picks him up as well.

“You have started abi?” Genesis scolds from the bottom of the stairs. Dominic turns. “The doctors said you should take it easy and you’re already carrying load.”

Dominic chortles. “My children are now load.”

He continues up. When he enters his room he finds it brighter than he had left it. The drapes have been changed to a perkier shade and a lot of sunshine let in. Fresh flowers in a vase by the dressing table give the room an airy fragrance. Fruits have also been placed on the nightstand.

Dominic sits on the bed, placing Zoe beside him. Zach pushes his way down in search of the next thing to lay his hands on. Lexus perches at the foot of the bed.

“I thought I was going to lose you, dad. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay in the hospital. I freaked out. I went to Kasiobi.”

Dominic smiles and it is filled with mischief.

“It’s not what you think, dad.”

“I’m not thinking anything but I’m just curious. Are you guys getting back together at all?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. He kissed me yesterday, though.”

“How was it?”

“Dad, am I supposed to describe that to you?”

“Did you like it? Were there strings attached?”

“There were. Lots of strings. It was intense.”

“Interesting.”

“But that was all.”

Dominic studies his daughter’s eyes and sees that she wants to say more but he doesn’t bug her about it.

“So the procedure is permanent?” she asks. “The stent stays in?”

“Yes. It’s for life. I have to take aspirin every day. So, Genesis will give you an aspirin container, she holds one, Seyi holds one and I also keep one. Whenever you guys see me, you have to ask if I have taken my pill for the day. If I haven’t, you have to make sure I do.”

Lexus gives a sad smile. “You were always my hero, dad. Right from when I was little. Whenever you flew in from the States and came to grandma’s, you made me very happy. Every time you left, I fell sick. Every single time. To me, you were strong and powerful and there was nothing you couldn’t do. So, yesterday that image was shattered, and I just couldn’t bear it. I wanted my strong daddy back. I…”

She pauses. Tears plug up her eyes. Dominic struggles with his emotions as well.

Yesterday, he had returned home after his long flight from across the world just to prove to himself and the doctor in Singapore who had told him to take things easy, that he was in control. The sex with Genesis had been awesome and ego-boosting but the pain in his chest that followed brought his machismo to nothing. Lying on the bathroom floor after his fall hadn’t scared him; it was the dread on Genesis’ face, the tears she cried in the ambulance and the unspoken gratitude she bore on her features when they wheeled him out of the Cath Theater. She had cried again after that, asking him many times as he drifted off into sleep, what she was supposed to do with her life if he was not there. Those moments had brought on the reality check. Not the near-death encounter.

What was his family to do without him? How would Genesis start again? Who would love her the way he does? Would Lexus ever recover from losing him?

“Don’t leave me, Dominic,” Lexus pleads.

“I won’t. God will keep me alive to see Zach and Zoe’s kids and your grandkids.”

“Amen.”

Lexus vacates her spot and walks over for a hug. This time, it is he who gets a peck on the forehead.

“I love you, dad.”

“Me too, Lex.”

670887

After she is gone, Dominic lies on his side and places Zoe beside him. Her littleness reminds him of Nimi, of how one moment he was cradling her newborn frame in his arms and the next he was holding her limp body in a hospital reception crying for a doctor to attend to her. The pain of that loss never left him. Same way he still vividly recalls the night his mother’s head was blown off in front of him and also the time he had stared at Eva’s lifeless body and wished that he had given her a better life than she had lived.

He knows the pain of loss all too well and how one does not recover from it. His family must not go through it, and so he shuts his eyes and begs God for long life and happier days.

Minutes later, Genesis walks in with Iya Idaya who takes the twins away. Genesis, concluding he is asleep, tiptoes about as she has a shower and changes into clean clothes. Afterwards, she leaves the room. He then opens his eyes, picks his phone and makes a call to Wura.

“Hi Wuraola.”

“Good morning, sir.”

“How are you doing?”

“Great.”

“I need you to do me a huge one.”

“Okay, sir.”

“I need you to organize an appreciation party for Genesis and Lexus. I want to thank them specially for being in my life.”

“Aww.” Wura makes a mock sniffle. “I think I’m going to cry.”

Dominic smiles. “I’ll leave the details to you, just make it for either Friday or Saturday. Genesis has a new trusted friend. Her name is Honey Onuora.”

“I know her. She’s been here a couple of times.”

“Good. Get her involved.”

“Okay, sir.”

“Get Kasiobi involved too.”

“Sure.”

“Thank you, Wura. Have a nice day.”

“You too.”

When he hangs up, he dials Seyi’s number. He needs a friend to talk to.

∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞

“Fumi, what is your problem nau? Ah-ah. Kilode! Stop shouting on me.”

This is how I wake up today, to Jiney screaming at the top of her lungs and her father giving her a dose of her medicine. He is not angry though; it’s just the normal daddy and daughter conversation they have on the regular.

It’s going to be a lazy day for me. No office work; although I’ll drop by later to see how things are progressing. The place is under some construction and the front desk girl would be present to ensure that the work is done well.

I dive deeper beneath the blanket as Jiney’s cries intensify. There’s a full bottle of refrigerated breast milk I have kept. Jide will feed her while I go back to sleep.

I close my eyes. Sleep comes swiftly but I am awoken when Jide barges in and announces that Yazmin is here to see me.

I step out, surprised to see that she has not come alone. Tobe is with her and a Gucci box rests at her feet.

“Yaz, is everything okay?”

She shakes her head. Tobe toddles over to me and I lift him up. As I pick a couch to sit on, Jide enters the living room with Jiney. He is here for whatever gist Yazmin has come with.

“I messed up, Hon,” Yazmin reveals. “I’m pregnant again.”

The news does not shock me. Dele’s wife and I have suspected that she is with child.

“And Emeka is mad at me.”

“Why did you stop taking your pills, Yazmin?” Jide interrogates. His tone is not friendly. He has never really liked Yazmin for Emeka.

“You stopped taking your pills?” I look at her.

“Yes.”

I turn my eyes on Jide. “Hotstuff, how did you know this?”

“Emeka called me this morning and told me everything. He is this close to leaving you, Yaz. And that’s not because he doesn’t love you. He’s just tired of your constant drama.”

Yazmin’s face is sad but surprisingly, she doesn’t cry. I suspect she has cried her eyes out already.

“He said he won’t be around for the period of my pregnancy. He’s choosing to be with Tola.”

“And that’s why you’ve come here?” Jide asks.

“Just for a few days. I want to go back home to Mexico.”

“No nau,” I tell her. “It has not reached like that.”

“It’s okay. I’ve thought about it a lot and I don’t think he loves me the way he loves her. And it’s fine. I’ll go home, have this baby and come back so that we can work child custody issues. I want to live in Nigeria. I love this country. Staying here is the best for my kids.”

I am devastated by all I’ve just heard. Yazmin is like a younger sister to me. She’s a beautiful soul and I love her dearly. Yes, she has the propensity to be selfish but that’s because of the way she was brought up. It’s no fault of hers and clearly, she alone isn’t to blame for how things have turned out in her love triangle. Emeka caused it. The moment Tola announced that she was pregnant, he abandoned Yazmin. A few times I caught her crying in her office. On one occasion, she opened up to me, telling me how lonely she was. When I told her I was going to speak to Emeka about it, she begged me not to.

“Yaz, we will have a word with Emeka on this. You’re not going anywhere. He is the father of your kids and he will treat you as you deserve to be treated.”

I glance at Jide who is feeding Jiney. He doesn’t look at me.

“Don’t go booking that flight, Yaz. Stay with us and trust me, Emeka will come looking for you soon and he’ll beg you to come back to him.”

I stand up and ask her to follow me. The room opposite Didi’s is unoccupied and that is where I lead her too.

“All yours for as long as you want to stay.”

“Thank you, Honey.”

“Do me a favor. Don’t pick his calls. Don’t text or chat with him. Put some respect on yourself and trust me, he’ll come here, begging.”

Yazmin nods. I ask her if she has had breakfast, she tells me she has. I return to the living room where a frowning Jide is waiting.

“You’re the one encouraging her to misbehave,” he accuses.

“I didn’t ask her to get pregnant, Jide. But I’m not going to support Emeka treating her like shit. That baby is his and she is his wife. He has to treat her better.”

“She needs to go. Emeka can’t do this. He can’t love them equally. Tola has his heart.”

“Then he shouldn’t have fooled around with Yazmin. What he’s facing now is the consequence of his actions. He can love her and treat her better if he decides to. Why should she be crying always because of him? Haba! I am so disappointed in Mex, and in you for supporting him.”

Well, if you guess that the argument goes downhill from here, you guess right. But the good thing is that Jide and I can get quite civil in a fight, which is also a bad thing because the words are more lethal since all the shout has been stripped from them.

Still frowning at me an hour later, Jide leaves for work. I am not bothered. We will make up before the day runs out, and of course, awesome sex will follow.

∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞

Kasiobi asks her out on a date. His message on Whatsapp is short and straight.

Ice cream at Coldstone, Admiralty Way. Pizza at mine’s. Game?

She stares at the chat for a long time. Her answer is yes but she doesn’t want to sound too eager.

-We need to talk, remember?

She replies:

-Time?

-8

-And Trini? Who’ll watch her?

-Let me worry about that.

She puts her phone down. From the window of her art room she sees that the sun is setting. Her body is covered in oil paint. The canvas that towers above her has a half-completed painting of Dominic. She doesn’t think it looks good. She has the urge to rip it apart. Wiping her forehead, she abandons the project for the day. A warm cup of yogurt sits on the floor next to her foot. She picks it and downs what is left in it.

Her house is quiet today. These days she finds that she doesn’t do too well with loud music when she’s working. Picking a half-smoked blunt she had picked from a glass stool in the living room, she enters her bedroom. The place is in shipshape. She sits on the bed, lights the blunt and smokes till she can hardly hold it. She dumps what is left in an ashtray, annoyed that she is scarcely high.

“So much for 10k weed,” she mutters, taking off her clothes. She goes for a quick, cold shower. When she returns to her bedroom, she takes her time with a body lotion and her makeup which comes out looking like she has not made any effort. Next, she embarks on picking out what to wear.

This is where the problem comes.

Nearly an hour later on, she is still searching for what to wear. Her tidy room now looks a mess and she is on the verge of losing her mind. Frustrated, she takes a picture of the mess and posts it on Instagram.

screenshot_2016-10-09-17-16-32

She captions the photo: Date in an hour with an old flame. My room is practically upside down and no outfit yet. Outfit ideas anyone???!!

#messyroom #datenight #frustrated

She plops down on her bed and before she can blink, she begins to get notifications on her phone. Most of them from guys suggesting all manner of outfits. She stays on the phone longer, laughing at the comments pouring in. A few girls give her some ideas, and just when she is about to dump her phone and slip into a dress, she sees a comment from Kasiobi.

I’m sure said ex-flame doesn’t mind if you show up nude. It’d be kind’a nice tho

“Horny toad.” Lexus laughs to herself. The edge has suddenly been taken off and out of the corner of her eyes, she spots the perfect girly combo – a pleated bowknot mini skirt, an off-the-shoulder top, a mini satchel detail bag, open heart earrings and a pair of heeled sandals. When she takes in her appearance in the mirror, she approves of what she sees. After posing for a few photos for Instagram, she leaves the house. A surprise awaits her outside, however. Kasiobi is standing beside a cab, hands in his pockets, earphones in his ears.

Butterflies flutter in her tummy for no reason when he looks up at her.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming to get me.”

“Thought I’d surprise you.”

“What happened to your car?”

“I’m tired of driving.”

He opens the backdoor as she walks towards him.

“You’re beautiful,” he compliments. “Cool outfit.”

“Thank you.”

She expects a kiss on her cheek but she gets nothing. He holds the door open until she sits in. He shuts it and walks over to the other side.

“So, ice-cream?” he asks, sitting beside her.

“Yep.”

“John Bellion? Dappy? Or Brymo?”

“Dappy.”

“Dappy, it is,” he says to the cab driver. The man nods. Shortly, music begins to stream from the car’s speakers. They say nothing to each other on the drive to Coldstone. When they arrive there, he reaches over and picks something from her nose.

“Piece of thread.”

His breath over her lips brings back the last kiss they shared. She desires more of it even if it is all he will give her.

He clasps his hand around hers and together they walk into the ice-cream joint. After making orders for pizza, they climb to the second floor of the building where their date takes place. They don’t talk about Lexus’ pregnancy or the abortion she had or why they break up. That comes a lot later, after they fill in the details of the missing period they didn’t get to spend with each other. They also share their favorite Trinity moments and talk about her future.

“Would you let Chichi back into Trini’s life if she returns?” Lexus rests her chin on her hand and apprehends his eyes as she awaits his answer.

“No,” he replies. “I don’t care where she’s gone to or what the story is. You do not just get up and abandon your child.”

“True.”

“Which brings me to say this. Lex,” he takes her hand, “thank you for being an amazing mom to Trinity, for being there and helping me take the load off. It’s not been easy but you’ve been dope.”

“I’m crazy about her. My entire ‘gram is full of her pictures.”

“I know.” Kasiobi stares down at their clasped hands. His thumb is beginning to rub over hers in a familiar manner.

“I’m hungry. We should get our pizza and take this party to my place.”

“I’ve got a better idea, though.”

“Shoot.”

“Let’s just get out of here and I’ll show you.”

She rises up first and drags him. Downstairs, they pick up their pizza and head out. They cross over to the other side of the street to stop a cab. A red one readily pulls over and Lexus gives the driver directions. The drive takes them away from the island but not so far away from it. The cab comes to a stop at a street that looks busy only during work hours.

“Where is this place?” Kasiobi raises his head to stare up at a building that boasts of four floors.

“Follow me.”

Lexus walks ahead, taking him through heavy glass doors that open in when she pushes them. They find themselves in a large room that is almost empty and has a front desk and waiting benches.

“This is my art center!” Lexus spreads out her hands in pride. “Still under construction but almost there.”

“Wow. You didn’t tell me about this.”

“Well, now I am. Come.”

She hurries ahead, towards a flight of stairs. They come to the second floor which opens up to a few small offices a gallery and an art shop.

“This is where we make the money. For customers only.”

“B, this is really cool.”

Lexus stops and looks at him. He had just called her the pet name he gave her in New York. She doubts that he even realizes that he did it.

“Who is financing this?” he inquires.

“Moi.”

“Lex, this must cost you a lot.”

“Mommy left me plenty money, so…” she shrugs.

“I’d like to help.”

“That’s sweet but no, thanks. I must do this all on my own. And if it flops, it flops. Heard that’s part of being grownup and shit. Fall, bitch about it, get up, dust yourself up and say fuck the world while you try again.”

Kasiobi stretches out his fist and she bumps it with hers.

“Next floor,” she says, strolling out. “First to get there.”

She barely finishes speaking when Kasiobi breaks into a sprint that takes him up the stairs. He stops halfway, looks down at her stunned face and they both laugh.

She trudges up at a slow pace and together they arrive at the third floor.

“For students and their teachers. All sorts of art courses and trainings will happen here. You like?”

“I love.”

Lexus bends over abruptly and her bum positions itself perfectly on his crotch.

“Lex?”

“These heels are getting tight.”

“Let me help.”

He stoops down, puts aside the pizza box and unbuckles her sandals. When he makes to rise up, his head gets caught in her skirt. Lexus swallows down a giggle which blows out the moment he frees himself and gives her a curious stare.

“You’re not wearing underwear.”

“Oops.” Lexus covers her mouth. Her amusement has a hard time staying away from the surface. Nothing is actually funny; it is more of an expression of pleasure and the anticipation of more of it.

Leaving her sandals behind, she leads him to the last floor which turns out to be the only furnished place in the building.

“Typical of you to work in a backwards manner,” Kasiobi comments. “Why start fixing here first?” he asks, walking into a small lobby that welcomes him with warmth and Picasso-like paintings on the wall.

“Well, I have my tattoo parlor and makeup studio here,” she responds, pointing at doors that stand at opposite ends. “But that’s not all.”

She moves a few paces ahead of her and pushes in a door which opens to a large room that is an exact replica of their studio apartment back in New York. Everything Kasiobi left behind is found here, including their favorite couch and his plasma TV that has a small crack on the top right edge. The compact space with its small-sized bed to a kitchenette and even a shower cubicle and toilet takes Kasiobi and dumps him back in a place of beautiful and depressing memories.

“I was waiting to bring you here on your birthday but…”

“You shipped everything down?”

Lexus nods.

“Why?”

“I just couldn’t let go, Kas. Those days and nights were the best of my life. I threw away a good thing and I am sorry.” She bites her lips. “Can we go back and start again?”

Kasiobi doesn’t give an answer. She holds her breath as she watches him. He seems to have become suspended in time, frozen on his spot. Unsure if she has done the right thing, she picks a remote control from a Moroccan pouf on the floor and turns on the home theater system to rub out some of the awkwardness. Dappy comes on and continues from where he left off in the cab. His music seems to do its magic as Kasiobi comes to and places the pizza box on a craft table he and Lexus had both bought after watching an episode of Friends and getting inspired to visit the famous Pottery Barn. His fingers then caress the edge of the table and find their way to the couch where he takes the weight off his feet. He invites Lexus over. She wobbles to him, feeling the weight of her emotions slow her. When she drops down beside him, he shifts to the edge, takes her hand and pulls her towards him in a manner that ensures she is lying on the couch. He also stretches out until they are in a spooning position. With his hand holding her beneath her breasts, he buries his face in her hair and breathes in.

“I’ll do anything for this, B.”

“Me too.”

And they fall into silence, listening to Dappy, the lyrics of the present song meaning a lot to both of them.

I thought that you’d give up
When all we had was us
I can’t even lie, even lie to ya
I’m sorry it ain’t my fault
I run out of all my trust
I went through hell and back
To get it back
That’s why every day I thank the lord
You ain’t just with me for money
Cos you keep on giving without taking nothing from me
I remember all the times when I was low
And you never let go
Oh no

I’m just being honest with you oh
You could be down and out
But it won’t matter
Just call for back up
And I will always come through oh-oh
You don’t need nobody else
It’s me and you against the world


Cos I was built for this
So forget about my previous
When I say I’m being serious
I’m too real for this
I feel to run and tell everyone
As if I’ll find anyone as good as this
As good as this
You know I’m built for, for you
See I
I keep it

So the only thing that matters
Is you can always count on me
Cos you know I keep it one hundred
And I have done right from the start
This time round I won’t let you down
Cos you and I were a part of me
That’s hand on heart
So tell me if there’s anything I could do to make it better
Let me know a way I could take away any of the pressure
Now if ever you feel low
Just know that I’ll never let go

Now tell me who do you love?
Even though I haven’t made it easy
You think I’ve come this far just to give up?
Hell no
Cos what it is


Cos I was built for this
So forget about my previous
When I say I’m being serious
I’m too real for this
I feel to run and tell everyone
As if I’ll find anyone as good as this
As good as this
You know I’m built for, for you
See I
I keep it 100

Lexus turns. She rests on her back and receives Kasiobi’s waiting lips as his hand travels up her skirt to familiar territory.

Outside, it’s Lagos on a typical Monday night but to two of them, it’s New York in winter and warm bodies moving against each other with sighs and moans as hearts reconnect.

To Lexus, they were both built for moments like this.

©Sally@moskedapages

 

Image credit: Blackfathers

It’s Another Novocaine Saturday #11

She comes to him in the morning. He is barely opening his eyes from a three-hour sleep when he hears a knock on the door. As he drags his feet to the living room, he imagines it is Chichi knocking. It’s something that has played out in his head several times—Chichi standing before him, begging to be let back into his life and him slamming the door in her face. Or it could be Kira coming back to pick a thing or two she left in the house. Last night he dumped her after she admitted, without flinching, that she couldn’t care for Trinity.

“I didn’t ask you to fuck her mother without a condom. She’s your problem, not mine. Isolate her from our relationship.”

That last line had been the cause for the fight that pushed Kasiobi to isolate Kira from his life entirely. She had cried a little but took the breakup rather maturely. He is hoping she is not the one returning to say she is sorry.

A surprise, however, awaits him as he opens the door to find Lexus standing outside with a tear-stained face and hair that looks like she has just tumbled out of a washing machine.

“Lex, what’s wrong?” he asks.

Lexus shakes her head and throws her arms around him. Her sobs are intense, shaking both of them with each heave. Kasiobi manages to shut the door but that’s all he can do. She doesn’t let go of his body. So, he stands there, rubbing her back, rocking her gently and assuring her that things would be fine even though he has no idea why she is crying.

Eventually, she comes to calm and explains to him that Dominic collapsed some hours earlier and is presently on a surgeon’s table having a procedure done to keep his heart in better shape.

“They said his coronary artery was blocked by a blood clot and they need to place something they call a stent in to keep it open.” She wipes her nose. Kasiobi is weak from what he has just heard.

“Wow.”

“He’s been suffering from coronary artery disease.”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah.”

“How come no one ever knew?”

“It’s not something we talk about. He manages it with drugs, diet and exercise but he’s been getting easily tired lately.”

Kasiobi guides her to a couch and sits beside her. “He’s going to be fine, Lex.”

“That’s what the doctors said but I just couldn’t wait there. I just couldn’t. Kas, I’m so scared. What if I lose him like I lost Eva?”

“You won’t.”

Kasiobi’s words don’t hold water. She begins to sob again. He holds her. The familiar scent of pineapples coming from her hair, blending with her perfume puts him in a place of memories. He recalls nights when they snuggled together on the only couch they had in their apartment in New York, covered by a blanket to keep warm, watching something boring on TV. Sometimes they ended up making love. Other nights, she would sleep off while he stayed awake, playing a computer game.

“Genesis is strong,” she murmurs. “I don’t know how she sits in that waiting room without losing her mind. I just can’t.”

“Your dad is going to be fine, Tonbra. Just believe that.”

Lexus nods but bites fingernails that peek out from the sleeve of an oversized sweater. Kasiobi drowns down the urge to kiss her hair, to bury his fingers in, push back her head and take her lips. These are thoughts that always occupy his mind in idle moments when all the things they had done and been comes rushing back to him. Just the other day when she came over to pick Trinity, he had longed to hold her hand when he handed over a feeding bottle to her. He could have told her then how much he missed her right before kissing her.

But his pride didn’t let him. Not even when he saw that she wanted it. Her eyes had taken on that look he knew so well that revealed how much she wanted to be kissed. That look always made her vulnerable, like a little girl, open to the wiles of a grown man.

“I’m sorry for bugging you like this, Kas.”

“It’s fine,” he replies. “You’re fam.”

Lexus pulls away. She sets herself in a comfortable position to face him. They stare at each other without words for a long stretch until her eyes moisten up again. He doesn’t touch her this time. He simply watches as the tears slowly course down her cheeks. He thinks it’s a beautiful sight, sad as it is.

“I was pregnant for you in New York,” she confesses.

For a second or two, he doesn’t understand her words.

“And I didn’t want the baby. But I couldn’t tell you because you were serious about us at that time. You wanted us to get married and have a family and it wasn’t what I wanted. I always tried to tell you but you just assumed we were on the same page. That was why I had mood swings and shut you out so many times. And then I went and got pregnant. I felt stupid and irresponsible. I hated myself…”

“What happened to the baby?”

“I had an abortion.”

Kasiobi shows no reaction, and this is not because he can’t. He keeps it in because he doesn’t want to upset her more than she already is.

“That was why we broke up. It wasn’t that I stopped loving you. No, Kas. I was…and I’m still crazy about you.”

At this, Kasiobi rises up. “Thanks for explaining everything but let’s not bring this topic up again.”

“Kas, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t face you after what I did.”

“You had an abortion, Woyintonbra,” Kasiobi responds with much calm. He is neither angry nor bitter but he feels the need to express himself.

“You aborted my child. You made that stupid, senseless decision all on your own without telling me and now you’re saying you still love me? What am I supposed to do with that? Dance? Let you back in?”

“I’m sorry.”

The sincerity in her tone makes it hard to keep a grudge; that and the fact that he is tired of the distance between them. She has been a mother to Trinity, helping him out without asking anything in return. This more than makes up for everything she did to hurt him. He wants her back but is scared to take the leap again. A friends with benefits arrangement would be better. That way, he eats his cake and keeps it.

Trinity wakes up with a scream.

“This talk is not over,” Kasiobi makes clear. “We won’t do this today. After your dad gets better, we’ll talk about it.”

As Lexus makes towards Trinity’s bedroom, Kasiobi pulls her back and enacts his fantasy of kissing her.

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It’s a long and deep one, the type that is gentle and fierce all at once. He has longed for this, dreamed that it would come in a finer setting and with a romantic ambience, but this is just as good and he would leave it hanging right here.

He marches away from her. She follows him to Trinity’s bedroom. The first sight of the little girl puts a smile on her face.

“Can I carry her?”

“Sure.”

Lexus walks to Trinity’s crib and lifts her out of it. The screams die down immediately.

“She’s hungry. Make food for her. I’ll heat up her bath water.”

Less than an hour later, the three of them are in Kasiobi’s SUV, on the way to the hospital. Genesis had called to let Lexus know that Dominic was out of surgery and asking to see her.

“Why do you think he’s asking after me?” Lexus had looked into Kasiobi’s face after Genesis hung up. “You think he wants to say goodbye? Give me some sort of last words?”

If Lexus hadn’t been dead serious with moisture dancing in her eyes, Kasiobi would have laughed. And even now as he parks in some empty spot in the car park of the most expensive hospital in Lagos, he sees that her apprehension hasn’t let down as she keeps chewing her nails.

They walk into the hospital, to the ward Dominic is recuperating, but they don’t let them in. Genesis comes out a while later.

“He’s sleeping,” she informs them. “Sedated.”

“Did it go well?” Lexus asks.

“Yeah, it went well. Your dad is fine, Tonbra.”

“He’s not going to die?”

Emotionally drained, Genesis can only shake her head. “Come here.”

Lexus steps forward and into a waiting hug. “Your dad is not going to die, Tonbra. Far from it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure. Just believe that, darling. I’ll take good care of him. I promised you this on the day we got married, didn’t I? He’s not dying on my watch.”

Yet, Lexus is inconsolable. Genesis doesn’t let go of her until she pulls herself together. Only then does she step away.

“I’m such a cry baby.”

“It’s okay. I don’t think you can handle any more loss. Me neither.”

They both smile.

“That being said, you’re a mess, Tonbra. Let’s go and have our nails and hair done and we’ll be back here when he’s awake.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Lexus sniffles.

Genesis links arms with her. “Kasbi, thank you for bringing her. She literally bolted out of here earlier.”

Lexus turns to talk to Kasiobi but he nods her away. “Go and glam up, B. We’ll see later.”

She gives Trinity a kiss and leaves with Genesis.

∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞

Today, I had to say goodbye to Saratu. Her ex-husband is back in her life and she answers to his call without a second thought. She is off again to the UK to wastefully give her body to the man, not caring how it affects business. Dele’s wife thinks we don’t need her anyway. This is painfully said over a table where we are all seated. We’re in a noisy restaurant that has families with loud kids, all of whom have come to have their Sunday lunches. Eating out is quite a big deal in Lagos these days. I stare at some of the families and wonder if Jide, Jiney and I are going to be them someday.

“I’ll come back, baby.” Saratu takes Dele’s wife’s hand.

“Please, don’t. Just remain there even after he breaks your heart again and treats you like trash.”

“Oh, he will misbehave but before then, I’ll suck his account dry.”

Dele’s wife withdraws her hand. My eyes fall on Yazmin who is awfully quiet.

“Yaz?”

She doesn’t hear me. Her concentration is on her phone.

“Yaz!”

Saratu snatches the phone off her hands. “They’re calling you.”

Yaz looks up and her eyes dash to her phone.

“You’re consulting your ovulation app?” Saratu asks nosily. “Na wa o. Tobe is just over a year and you want another one?”

Yazmin mutters some insult in Spanish. Dele’s wife and I burst out laughing. Saratu frowns and hands Yazmin back her phone.

“One person I will not miss is you sha,” Saratu says to Yazmin. “I hate your racist ass.”

“Cabrona,” Yazmin cusses.

“Screw you right back, baby.”

“Yaz, be nice,” I scold.

“She started it.”

I am ready to roll my eyes right now. This is a typical day at work. I have no desire to see them play it out over this farewell dinner which is already going moodily.

“Can you two just get along? Just once?”

I know I’m speaking to the wind. How they have managed to work with each other for almost a year beats me. I love them both, though, and I tell them this. Saratu hugs me and we both tear up. I am going to miss her. She is the one friend I love and hate in equal measure.

Somehow we all manage through lunch and after we’re done, we walk out to the parking lot. Saratu hurries to one of the security guards and takes her pet dog from him. After shoving little pieces of chicken through the dog’s willing mouth, she brings it to me. I don’t cringe or move back. The animal has become a friend over the past month and has taught me to face my fears. These days I can stomach the sounds of barking and howling dogs.

“It’s for Jide.” Saratu hands me the leash. “All the times he stopped over at the office he came with something for him. I think they’ll bond well.”

I smile.

“Jide will be glad,” I tell her. “Thank you, Sara.”

The dog, Barry, sits beside me and looks up at Saratu, expecting more chicken but she stares at her phone and announces that she is set to leave. An Uber is already waiting to take her to the airport.

She embraces Dele’s wife first and comes to me next. I leave a few words of love with her and give her a parting gift. Finally, she stands before Yazmin.

“Don’t come back,” Yazmin says. We laugh. They hug and we afterwards, we watch Saratu leave. When the Uber has driven out of sight, I say goodbye to Yazmin and Dele’s wife and get into my car. Barry obediently sits in the backseat. I drive home.

jide8

When I get in, I catch Jide having an afternoon nap. For a moment I am distracted by the man’s half-dressed sexiness which lies invitingly on the couch. I want to do things to him while he sleeps but Barry whines and I behave myself. I quietly lead Barry to him. The dog sits beside the couch and on his own puts his nose to Jide’s sides and sniffs. Jide scratches the spot but Barry repeats his actions that get him a smack right before Jide springs up.

He glares at the dog for a few seconds and then at me.

“Sugams, what’s going on?”

Barry yelps. Jide stares at him again and then recognizes him.

“Barry?”

I don’t know if dogs can smile but I think Barry just did.

“How are you, boy?” Jide ruffles his fur. Barry responds by wagging his tail in excitement.

“He’s all yours. A parting gift from Saratu.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

I watch his face light up. He is a dog person but he has kept the house free of them because of me. I am happy to see him this way. Momentarily, he forgets I am there as he bonds with Barry.

“I just hope Fumi doesn’t get allergic to him.”

“He’s hypoallergenic. Have no worries.”

Fumi is the short version of Fumnanya, Jiney’s Igbo name. Jide is the one who starts calling her that and it’s beginning to stick.

“So, we’re going to have a visitor anytime soon,” he informs me.

“Visitor? From where?”

“It’s Hauwa.”

My face changes.

“She is stopping by to say hello and formally ask your forgiveness over the Facebook pictures stuff.”

“I’ve forgiven her. She doesn’t have to come here.”

And at the instant, we hear a knock on the door.

“That should be her.” Jide stands up and goes to the front door. I take the seat he was sitting on, putting on an unwelcoming expression on my face. Soon, I hear her voice and seconds later she is in my house.

“Hi, Honey.” She stands by the door, waving at me with a smile. As usual, I find her distractingly beautiful. She is wearing a fitted gown and heels that are to die for. Gold bangs fall to one side of her face and join a fluff of alluring curly hair that bounces each time she moves.

Jide offers her a seat and walks to the kitchen to get her a drink. When he is gone, she pulls up to the edge of the seat. I know an apology is about to come, yet I act oblivious.

She starts out slowly, picking choice words she feels will get to my psyche. But bit by bit, she breaks through my tough exterior and locates a soft spot in my heart. It’s a very small spot, though.

“It’s alright, Hauwa,” I find myself saying. “As long as you’re not stealing my man, we’re good.”

“I will never hit on someone I consider my brother.”

“That’s good to know.”

Jide returns with something alcoholic for her and a glass of orange juice for me. After she is served her drink, we all sit and converse. Before long, Hauwa and I are laughing like old friends. All the resistance I put up against her falls away as she charms me with her openness. It doesn’t take long for her to express how desperately she is to get married.

“Why desperate, though?”

“I’m thirty-eight, Honey. Everyone I know is married, even my younger ones. My mom cries all the time because she believes she has done something wrong in her past and that’s why I’m in this situation. My dad and I now have this strained relationship. Home is no longer home. I’m the one everyone looks at with pity and when I’m not there, I become their gossip topic.”

“Aww.”

“I just need to take the shame away. At this point, I’ll marry whoever is ready to settle down…”

“Please, don’t.”

“But the problem is that I am still too picky. Am I not supposed to have sense and do away with some of my deal breakers?”

“You shouldn’t,” Jide replies. “I’ve told you over and over again, Hauwa, you will find a good man. Just hang in there.”

“You know I have offers to be a second wife. Many of them, in fact. Some of the men are my dad’s friends, but I just can’t. I want what two of you have or at least, something close to it. Even if I don’t find love, let me find a man who respects and treats me like a princess. Am I asking too much?”

Jide and I shake our heads in the same manner without meaning to. Hauwa finds it funny.

“You guys are sooo cute together.”

“We know,” Jide says.

“What if I fix a few blind dates for you?” I ask.

“I’m game. I never stop believing, though, and that’s why I moved to Lagos. The land of dreams.”

“And heartbreakers,” Jide adds. “Be warned.”

“This heart has been broken so many times that it is now numb to whatever.”

“Okay o.”

We talk for longer, keeping to the topic of marriage and all things relationship. When she announces that she is going home, I have a good mind to ask her to stay a little longer but I don’t. We walk her to the door and the moment she is gone, Jide turns to me.

“So, what do you think of her?”

“I like her. She’s nice.”

“Told ya.”

“And I feel for her. I’d be desperate too at her age. Frustrated even. There are just very few women in Nigeria these days who are comfortable being single after they clock thirty.”

“I respect such women.”

“You respect every woman,” I tell him with a certain look in my eye. He catches it.

“Can I respect you now?” he asks, taking me by the waist. I fall into his arms as my body presses into the muscles of his chest and the tightness of his abdomen. Jide, to me, is like some Greek god twenty-something hours of each day. It’s not about sexiness; he’s just incredibly male, and that always turns me on. Now that I have had Jiney and done away with that weird phase of sex-hating, I am always on heat. Jide can so get it any day, at any time.

Forgetting that Barry is present, we start to make out – first, standing, and then we fall onto the nearest couch. We are so into it that we don’t hear Didi’s door open and close until we hear a sound and we turn to see her standing near the front door with some guy I do not recognize.

Neither Jide nor I move. Thankfully, no private parts are out in the open.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “We had wanted to sneak out quietly.”

“Go ahead then,” Jide tells her.

The guy with her wants to say something but she takes his hand and drags him out. I sit up.

“Who is that boy?”

Jide shrugs. “Some guy she said was her friend.”

“Hotstuff, that’s the second guy she’s bringing here. I am uncomfortable with it.”

“She’s allowed to have visitors.”

“No. Not anyhow. What if she brings an armed robber or pedophile?”

Jide screws up his face in thought. “You’re making a point…”

“Talk to her or I will. The only guy permitted to enter this house is her boyfriend. If she doesn’t have one, she should entertain her men outside.”

“I’ll talk to her. Now, can we continue?”

Like I said, I’m on heat. He scarcely finishes speaking when I grab him again and we fall back on the couch. Barry barks. We both turn and catch him staring.

“Let’s take it to the room.”

∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞

I watch the sunset from the kitchen window as I wait for the pasta I put over the stove to cook. I ate less than three hours ago and here I am, hungry again. My pregnancy cravings will soon do me in.

Emeka is in the living room watching a football match on TV. It’s a chill evening, the weather is fine, the baby is not kicking much, all is good. What can possibly go wrong?

The doorbell dings. I pay it no mind. The sunset still has my attention. However, Emeka soon walks in and announces to me that Yazmin is around and wants to have a word with both of us. I frown. Yazmin and I are still not cool, although we are never at each other’s throats. She will always be the other woman that snatched my husband from me, an act I have not forgiven Emeka for, either.

I follow him out to the living room to find her waiting.

“Good evening, Tola,” she greets. I like when she greets me. Nne has instructed that she pays me respect always. So far, she is acting like the nice, little iyawo she is.

Emeka picks a sofa that is away from both of us. He rests his feet on the center table and glances at her.

“Oya, talk.”

We wait for her mouth to open but instead of words we hear a whimper as she covers her face. Emeka and I both stare at each other in puzzlement.

“Yaz?” he calls. “What’s wrong, bae?”

She shakes her head and sobs. We keep our eyes on her for a while until Emeka, loving husband that he is, goes to her and holds her. I won’t lie to you, I feel jealous. I don’t think I can ever get over the fact that he holds me the same way he holds her and that she gets the same type of loving I do.

“You don’t love me anymore, papi,” she cries. “You spend your whole time with her and hardly even pick my calls. And then when you’re with me, you’re always on the phone with her. Don’t you love me anymore?”

“Hian!” Emeka exclaims. “Yaz, is that why you came here?”

“Yeah.”

The audacity!

“But why would you think I don’t love you anymore, mi vida?”

“It’s the truth. You spend all your time with her.”

“And so?” I bite back. “He’s my husband.”

“You know she’s pregnant, baby,” Emeka explains. I roll my eyes. Is it something someone needs to tell her? She cannot endure until I give birth? See me see wahala.

“She needs all my attention,” Emeka continues with his unnecessary explanation. Me, I just feel like walking over to her and slapping her so that that pretty, white face will turn red. But all I can do is sit still and take in the scene. Emeka is speaking to her in Igbo, a language I’m finding difficult to learn. Yazmin already knows how to speak bits of it but understands it well. Honey, too; and even Mary. I am the only woman married to an Igbo man that is carrying last.

Emeka manages to calm Yazmin down. I don’t say a word about what I feel about her right now. We are both not allowed to insult each other or she wouldn’t have heard the last of it. This is the same babe that is playing games with Emeka, using that Omoh human being just to get him all jealous. Two nights ago, he disgraced himself by going to Omoh’s house to pick a fight but the security guards wouldn’t even let him in. He is treated like trash, all because of her. Tell me why I should like her?

“Are you better now?” he inquires.

“There’s more,” she answers. My frown deepens. I cross my arms.

“I’m listening, mi vida.”

“I’m pregnant.”

My crossed arms unfold. Emeka gives her a nasty up and down glare.

“What did you just say?”

“I’m pregnant, papi.”

“Don’t ‘papi’ me! Which one is that you’re pregnant? Pregnant for who, biko?!”

“You.”

“Yazmin Ivan, you are on the fucking pill!”

“You know I hate pills, so I stopped taking them. They were getting me fat.”

Emeka cannot believe what he has just heard. I can feel the coldness that has just settled on him.

“You did not take your pills at all.”

“No,” she answers in her usual I-don’t-give-two manner. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for yourself and your whole family back in Mexico! They didn’t give you proper home training at all!” He charges up. “And fuck you!”

She starts to cry. I hiss and give her a piece of my mind.

“Your crocodile tears are useless, Yazmin. What you did is wrong. You intentionally got pregnant just for attention. What type of nonsense is that? Do you think marriage is some game you play with your husband and that babies are things you use for your own selfish ends? Tobe is not even up to eighteen months and you’re carrying another one. Why, Yazmin?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Same way you didn’t mean to take my husband and have a son for him abi? Same way you didn’t mean to come between us! Why can’t three of us just stay in peace without you cropping up something from somewhere. The other time it was chlamydia and now, this!”

“I seriously didn’t mean to.”

“Abeg, keep quiet!” I yell back as I stand up. “I don’t sha blame you. I blame Mex and his community penis.”

My anger is now directed at Emeka.

“If you kept it in your pants, we won’t be here. This is your mess, handle it, and leave me out of it!”

I march to the kitchen. I warn myself against crying. I will not shed a tear because of those two. I must not. My baby needs me to be happy at all times and that’s the way I will remain.

I take down the spaghetti from the stove, serve it into a dish for one, add peppered stew that has lots of meat and head to my room to enjoy my meal.

Emeka comes in. I pretend I don’t see him.

“Doc, I am so sorry.”

I don’t reply. He sits beside me. “If you want me to divorce her, just give the word.”

“So that a Mexican warlord abi drug lord will come and kill all of us here? Abeg o! Take responsibility for all your actions. It’s your fault. You went to marry an omo daddy. Now, see where you have landed yourself.”

“I won’t lie to you, Tols, I’m regretting everything.”

“That one concern you. All I know is that once I finish this food, I’ll need you on this bed with me, to cuddle me while I sleep, right after you give me head. Only head. That your dick must not touch me.”

“I’m very sorry.”

“Meanwhile, are you sure she’s even pregnant?”

“Well…”

“She may be trying to play a fast one.” I drop my fork. “Where is she sef?”

Before Emeka replies, I leave my room. Fortunately, Yazmin is still in the house. I call her over. She gives me attitude.

“Come jor. Abi you think I’m Emeka that you’ll be doing anyhow ni?”

She walks to me. I point her in the direction of my bedroom.

“Why?” she asks, pouting those her red lips that make my husband lose his mind.

“Don’t question me, onyibo. Just be going.”

She walks ahead of me. When we enter the room, I tell her to take off her panty and lie on the bed.

“No.”

“S’onsiere ni? You think we’ll believe anything you say? I need to check if you’re really pregnant. My friend, off your pant and lie on that bed! I don’t have time for shit!”

Emeka tells her something in Spanish and she obeys while I get some gloves from my First Aid box. When I return and part her legs, I am shocked to see my husband’s name tattooed on her cleanly-shaved pubis. I eye him.

“Relax, Yazmin,” I instruct, although I’d rather shove my fingers in there and injure her.

“Don’t kill my baby.”

“That’s if there’s anything inside.”

“I’m not you.”

I push my fingers in and press down on her lower tummy without further warning. It doesn’t take me long to find out that she’s truly pregnant. I shake my head with a sigh as I pull out my fingers.

“Satisfied?” She gets off the bed. I remove the gloves, wash my hands and continue eating. I ignore them until she goes away. I can’t kill myself because of them – so I say to myself. But after my meal is completed and I’m cuddling the life size teddy on my bed, I put a call through to Mary and tell her what is happening. I say this while crying like a little baby. I tell her that I think it’s time to give Emeka an ultimatum. He either divorces Yazmin or I leave. I can’t take this again. But until then, I want to move into Mary’s. Does she have a spare room?

“Yes, Tola. Come over.”

©Sally@moskedapages

Translations:

Cabrona – fuck you

Iyawo – wife

S’onsiere ni – are you crazy?

omo daddy – daddy’s baby

 

Images: Pinterest,  Dariuswilliams

It’s Another Novocaine Saturday #9

God bless you all for your prayers, encouraging words and messages.

I can’t thank you enough.

I love you guys!blow kiss So to make up for lost time, there will be double episodes this weekend. One today, and the other tomorrow.

Enjoy!

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She has never heard her heart beat so loudly and so fast. She is certain everyone in the room can hear it. That and the nonstop flapping of butterflies in her tummy. She is a nervous wreck and not even Mahmud’s hand on hers can calm her.

Her eyes are fixed on the floor. They stare hard at Mahmud’s dad’s well-manicured toes. She dares not look up at the man, with his full, white beards and rheumy eyes that enjoy seeing into her soul and ripping out her self-assurance. His wife has a more agreeable face but even the calm on it is not enough to dispel her fears today.

Wura, Mahmud and Bilal had flown into Sokoto two days ago on the old man’s request. It is not Wura’s first visit but it is her first, true welcome. She is received warmly and given one of the best rooms to stay in. Mahmud’s mother lets her into her kitchen to help out with the meals and cleaning, even though there are other girls in the house – relatives of the family. All of Mahmud’s older siblings are absent, although the first two live with them here in Sokoto. Wura is rather glad that the house is quite empty. The last time she visited, the whole family, excluding Asma had put her in the same spot she is presently seated, and told her without flinching to cut off ties from their lastborn. That night had been frightening. She remembers staying awake until morning and disappearing at the first break of daylight. Echoes of that night still haunt her and this is why she has imagined the worst this morning.

“Wuraola,” Mahmud’s father calls. It is the second time he is saying her name. She keeps her head down even though she answers him.

“Look at me.”

His quiet, commanding tone forces her head up. She swallows as his soul-ripping eyes go straight into hers.

“Everyone knows that I do not speak many words,” he says. Her stare breaks away from his to the sparkling white jalabia he has on. “So, I’ll go straight to the point. Look at me.”

Wura takes her eyes back to his again.

“For reasons that are best known to us in the Suleiman family, we approve of your marriage to our son.”

Wura’s stare widens. She shoots a sharp look of disbelief at Mahmud and back at the old man.

“We also do not compel you to convert to Islam. Mahmud has always been an extremely liberal Muslim and we are not quite surprised that he has chosen a Christian girl to marry…”

“For the second time,” Mahmud’s mother adds.

“But he is our son and we want the best for him. If he is convinced that you are that best, despite everything we have done to separate both of you, then alhamdulillah. All we ask is that you stay faithful to him. May it not be found in you that you went back to your old ways, Wuraola. Be a good, humble and submissive wife to him. Do not follow the ways of today’s women who feel they are equal to their men. I know Mahmud does not mind but please, respect him in all areas.”

Wura nods as a force of unnecessary tears distorts her view.

“Should he ever have the desire to get married to another wife, preferably a Muslim—even though it’s not our way in the Suleiman family—please, don’t stop him.”

Mahmud tightens his hold. She knows he is assuring her that she’ll be his only wife.

“Stay close to your God. Take care of our grandson. He must be raised a Muslim.”

Wura neither nods nor shows any sign of agreement. Bilal already has a foundation of both religions. He always follows her to church but has his little prayer mat on which he imitates her cousin each time he prays. Sometimes Wura lets the boy take him to the juma’at mosque near the house for the evening asr prayers.

“We pray that God will bless your marriage and your home,” Mahmud’s father concludes.

The unnecessary tears now make a full residence on Wura’s face as she leaves the comfort of Mahmud’s hand and goes to her future parents-in-law to show her appreciation. She falls on her knees before them. The hands that touch her are not the same cold hands that had reluctantly approved of her marriage to their son two years ago. She can feel the warmth. Something has changed. She wonders what.

On the flight back to Lagos, she and Mahmud talk about it.

“He thinks he’s dying,” Mahmud explains. “Prostate cancer.”

“Aww.”

“It’s a silent killer. He’s had it for years and didn’t know but it has been treated. He’s in remission.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Yeah. But he believes it will come back again and has made up his mind not to treat it if it does.”

Wura looks at Mahmud. His face holds no expression. He has never been the type to wear his emotions outwardly. You can only read him by a rise or drop in energy. For the past couple of days, he has been quiet.

“He’ll be fine, Mymood. Just have faith.”

Mahmud smiles at her, adjusting a sleeping Bilal to lie properly on his chest. Wura slips on a pair of earphones to listen to her collection of Christian soft rock and she goes into silent prayer.

∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞

“Okay, madam, give me one last push.”

A tired mother, just about to have her first baby, gives me a drained look. I smile back.

“I know. But your baby is here.” I take her hand which her husband is holding and guide it down to the tub of water she’s seated in so she can feel her son’s head between her legs.

“You feel that? He’s here. That’s why it hurts so much. But one push will take away all the pain. Can you do that for me?”

She nods.

“Okay, ma’am. Push!”

“Oya, PUSH!” her husband shouts and gets me laughing. The man has been a relief for sour mood. I don’t particularly like water births because of the extra mess they come with – I have done it only once, owing to its unpopular nature in Nigeria – but this man has made my time with him and his wife in their home bearable today. He is the coolest Caucasian I ever met and his pidgin is high grade stuff. Warri approved.

His wife lets out a scream and she births her baby with just that one push. I slowly bring the baby up for air, letting him have a feel of the water first. He lets out a cry, I pass him unto his mom and my work is done. A junior midwife takes over while I capture the moment. I am not allowed to upload this one on Instagram yet until the couple first shares it with the world.

water-birth

I walk away from them to give them their moment while I get set to leave.

Nne once told me that he who fights and runs away may live to fight another day.

In many ways, that proverb is true. But not in my case, not when I don’t feel like fighting with Honey anymore. I have acted irrationally and insensitively towards her. This is me admitting it, but not to her who deserves to hear it.

It’s been four days too long and I miss everything about her. Even her insecurity and misgivings. I miss Jiney too.

The only cure to the emptiness is to swallow my ego and go back home to them.

But there’s a lot I want to say. I want to be honest with her about myself, tell her things I was supposed to have told her before we got married. I had thought they would burn up under the fiery flame of what we shared but some other things came in and turned that fire down too fast.

Now, we are here, me hiding secrets, Honey hurting from my misbehavior. But I hope she knows that I didn’t set out to hurt her. I hope she recognizes how much I love her.

“Thank you, DOM,” the grateful mother tells me. I smile back at her, watching the familiar scene before me as her husband gives me a thumbs up. I leave their home and drive back to the hospital. Somehow, I have lost track of my activities and I need to be reminded. I stop in front of the roster board at the midwifery wing to see if I have any more patients today. I rub my eyes that have been longing for sleep over the past couple of days as I inhale the spicy scent of Hauwa’s perfume. She comes up behind me to stare at the board as well.

“Hi handsome.”

I give her an eye.

“You and I need a talk,” I tell her.

“Talk?”

“Yeah, the long-winded type that would leave you in tears and make us stop speaking to each other in a while.”

“Somebody is pissed this morning,” she says in a singsong tone. I face her with a glower.

“We need time apart, Hauwa.”

“You’re…breaking up with me?” she clutches the stethoscope around her neck with both hands.

“Can you be serious for once and just try not to get on everyone’s nerves?”

“I’ve tried. It doesn’t work.”

I grunt silently. Hauwa is an annoying person, and I’m saying this in the nicest possible way. She enjoys getting a rise out of people for fun. She has always been like this. But she is actually kindhearted beneath. Six years ago, her generosity had overlooked the fact that I was a strange man in a strange city, and offered me the spare bedroom in her house just because she had heard me ask a mutual colleague for the number of a house agent.

That generosity helped me get settled into my new job and was there for me on nights when the pain of losing Ezinne was too much to bear. She hadn’t been inappropriate towards me; rather it was I that read the signals wrongly on a rainy afternoon when I went for her lips.

Hauwa had laughed and pushed me away that day, giving me the ‘you’re like a brother to me,’ look. A few days after, my new apartment was ready and she helped me move into it. Contrary to what Honey imagines in her silly, little head, Hauwa and I have never been physical or romantic. She helped me score many chicks back then and always came to me whenever she had man problems. She took Mary’s place in my life for the time I spent with her. I felt no need to share this with Honey. Not that I was hiding anything but Honey had acted coldly on their first meeting and I didn’t see it as a good sign. Hence, I kept details of my relationship with Hauwa away from her.

The time spent in Canada had been fun for Hauwa, mostly because she was getting out of a two-year relationship that had been hell, and secondly, because the other midwives and nurses at the hospital were pissed that I picked her as part of my travel team. The beef was that she was a newbie in the hospital and didn’t deserve the spot. But I had not cared what they thought. I was repaying a favor to a friend who had been there for me in the past. She needed the vacation.

Nobody saw her whenever she withdrew to a corner to break down in tears and mull about her failed relationships. Being two years older than I am, she believes she is way past the marriage age and may never find the man of her dreams. This is made even more difficult with her standards. Hauwa is saving her body for marriage and will not date a man who is struggling, abusive and a cheat. These are realistic deal breakers I think all women should have. Unfortunately, women like Hauwa always find themselves being left out of the marriage circle. I feel bad that all my reasonable guy friends are married. All the same, I’ll find someone for her.

“So do you want to have this talk over lunch or in your office…?” she holds on to her stethoscope.

“Let’s do it here,” I reply, taking my eyes away from the nurses watching us but pretending to be going through a file.

“Okay, I’m putting on my serious face.” Hauwa pushes her lips to a pout.

“Can you be more professional with me when we’re working?”

“I thought I’ve always been.”

“You haven’t, and I’m tired of the gossip behind our backs. I’m your boss, you’re under me. Keep it strictly professional. Asides that, I’m a married man. That Facebook stunt you did put me in a lot of trouble.”

“I apologized nau, Jide.”

“You did but I have to draw the line. So, please keep you distance. Can you do that?”

“Sure.” She giggles. Her eyes, however, read something different. My words have hurt her. “Can I go now, DOM?”

“Yeah.”

“Have a nice day, sir.”

She walks away, as do the eavesdropping nurses. I head towards my office, feeling like an ass, tired and craving for Honey’s afang soup. I’m craving for her lips too. All four of them.

We haven’t spoken to each other since Sunday, but she has uploaded a video of Jiney on Facebook in which she tagged me. I have watched the video over ten times.

I stretch out on the examination table in my office and as I am about to shut my eyes, I receive a call from my mom. I stare at the phone, having no desire to answer, but somehow, I do.

“Jideofor, kedu?”

“I’m fine, mom. Good morning.”

She doesn’t reply in English as she straightaway goes into the reason why she is calling. Honey has told on me and the old woman summons me for questioning.

“I’ll be there shortly,” I reply, leaving the bed. Still wearing my scrubs, I walk out of my office and down a long pass that leads to the parking lot. I get into the car and start the engine. The car hums for a while before I force myself to move it out of its spot, towards the gates.

I still am not in the mood to be doing a lot of driving. I love to be chauffeured around but the idea of having a driver does not just appeal to me yet. Maybe when I get older and look like RMD, I may fit into the narrative.

I drive to the family house. I am ready for whatever Nne has to say, as long as she lets me have a proper home-cooked meal which I haven’t had in a while.

“Is it not you that wants to live like a bachelor?” she tells me, serving me a dish of oha soup, filled with all sorts of meats and fish. Beside the dish is a plate of akpu. For the first few minutes when I start to eat, I can’t even hear anything she is saying. Her words begin to settle in after the fifth swallow and second piece of fish.

“Erhinyuse must be treated like gold, Jidenna. I don’t want to ever see her cry the way she did when she came here. Do you think it’s easy to see your husband with another woman?”

I stop chewing for a second and gaze at my mom. Her question is from a place of pain.

“Don’t treat her less than she deserves, and let it be the last time I’ll hear that you slept outside your house.”

“But Honey has trust issues and I can’t deal, abeg.”

“It is for better and for worse, Jide. Besides, whose fault is it that she has trust issues?”

I give no answer.

“You no fit talk abi?”

I almost laugh. In one short conversation, my mom has gone from English to Igbo and now to pidgin.

“No be like that,” I answer her.

“Then, how is it?”

I exhale. I want to tell her my own side of the story but this is a bad idea already, having a third party in my marriage. I never planned to do this. Honey and I had agreed that we would not let family or friends in but I guess I pushed her to this point. I’ll take responsibility and fix things.

“Mom, I’m sorry that you have to be called in to put me straight. I messed up and I’ll do the right thing from now on.”

Nne melts.

“Marriage is not easy, I must tell you. Sometimes…” She looks away and comes back to me. “Sometimes, a lot is lost in translation even when you’re face to face. The end of a discussion can become the start of a squabble and then little issues become major ones. But you have to keep the fire burning.”

“I’ll try.”

“Please, don’t hurt her again,” she advises me in Igbo. “She’s your wife. Your baby. Hold her like an egg. I know she wrongfully accused you and I know how she gets irrational but be gentle with her. Follow her like a child. Small-small. Hot soup is eaten little by little.”

I look down at my plate of soup which has not been eaten little by little. All that is left is the large chunks of beef in it.

“Can I have more, please?”

Nne points to the kitchen. I walk in there, top the soup and return.

“I’ve spoken to a friend of mine to get you people a maid since that silly Ndidiamaka cannot have sense to know that all the housework rests on her.”

“Nne!” I laugh. “Didi is actually a nice girl.”

“Didi? Is that what you call her?”

“Yes.”

“Hmmm. Okay o. Let her just hurry up and find her own place so that two of you can have peace.”

I say nothing further. The woman has refused to let Didi into her heart no matter what we try.

“Nne, this soup na die!” I lick my fingers. “I really miss your cooking.”

She smacks my head. “You don’t have sense. It’s your wife that prepared it.”

I glare at the soup as if just seeing it for the first time. “Eziokwu!”

“I’m telling you. She did it all on her own,” Nne replies with a proud smile. “No supervision whatsoever. Go home and thank her.”

I say a silent ‘wow’ as I keep on eating; the soup suddenly becomes a hundred times more delicious. Honey amazes me every day with the things she does. She deserves more than I give. I’m going home straightaway to make things right with her.

∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞

My feet touch down in Lagos. I step on familiarity – and wait for some form of elation to hit me but I feel nothing.

I thought I would miss this place but I haven’t. I just want to turn around, hop back on the plane and find myself in Fiji again.

“I understand exactly how you feel.” Naomi touches my hand and guides me towards the airport shuttle. When we sit in, alongside other passengers, Naomi is facing me, staring at me in that eerie manner she had stared at me throughout our three-week vacation in Fiji. The look basically spells her desire for me, of which I have no business with. I tell her this on the morning I leave the house after Shady hits me. I think of the million places to be other than hers but all those other places belong to my friends whose marriages are perfect. I could visit Peace but she is sleeping over at Honey’s. And so I choose the least person my commonsense wants me to go to. Naomi welcomes me, arms open, my face pressed to her chest. I don’t care. I just want to let the tears out. Nobody told me boobs can be this comforting.

“Can I stay here for a while?” I request.

“Of course, darling,” she replies, stroking my hair. At this point, I am not thinking. I just want to be far away from Shady.

“You know what?” She takes my face and brings it to hers. “Let’s travel out. Have you ever left the shores of Nigeria before?”

I lift my shoulder and drop it in embarrassment.

“No need to be ashamed. But you do have a passport?”

Yes, I have a passport. My pastor once told everyone who had hopes of flying out of Nigeria to make a move of faith. Many dropped seed faith offerings. I decided to get a passport because I was too broke to afford a seed faith and a passport at the same time. I had figured that if the opportunity came knocking, I’d be ready. I had figured right. And as Naomi holds my face I tell myself that God is answering my prayers.

“Pick anywhere you want to travel to. At least, somewhere that doesn’t require a visa.”

My eyes dash left and right in thought, and then I remember reading an article about places one can travel to outside the shores of Nigeria that wouldn’t require a visa.

“Let’s check online,” I suggest. Both of us hunch over her phone for almost an hour and then we pick Fiji Island. Immediately, she calls a luxury travel service and makes arrangements to request a travel concierge to Fiji.

“I’ll give you a good time,” she says to me with such thirst in her voice that I see a horny man’s face on her. It is at this juncture I explain to her that I’m not going to open my legs for her.

“I just need to go away and clear my head, Naomi.”

“I don’t care. Being with you on a holiday is way better than sitting here, playing dutiful wife to a man who is hardly around.”

Still, I make her promise not to jump on my lips again.

“Brownie honor,” she swears. Two days later, we’re flying first class to Fiji. There, I have the time of my life but I find myself falling into quiet moments where I rather wish to be enjoying the holiday with Shady and Dara. It is on one of those occasions I succumb to my heart and call Shady. He tells me he’s sorry for the zillionth time. He says he misses me. He puts Dara on the phone. I listen to my baby with tears in my eyes as I gaze ahead at the ocean. Over me, the shadow of a palm leaves dance. Sometimes, it’s Naomi’s fingers making forms in my view.

cee

Shady tells me he’ll save the number. I don’t want him to, knowing he will call at every chance he has.

“How are you coping?” I ask. But what I really mean is, ‘have you gotten your lazy ass a job?’

“Well, we’re managing,” he replies. “Still scouting around for something. God will provide.”

I sigh inwardly. I’m no longer upset. I have given up. Naomi offered me the job of being her personal consultant cum assistant, and that involves traveling everywhere with her on business trips and basically helping her make most of her decisions. It’s a great offer, considering the financial benefits that come with it. I accepted the proposal but I asked her if it comes with groping my breasts. To that, she laughed.

“I’m not that horny,” she replied.

“Than what do you want from me?”

She smiled that manly smile and that was all I got. I guess it’s some sort of mating thing lesbians do.

“Cee, are you there?” Shady calls my attention away from a Caucasian couple that are snorkeling in the body of water not far from me.

“Just be praying for me,” Shady adds in a depressing manner. It is this same mood that meets me when I return to Lagos. Naomi’s chauffeur who has driven us into town from the airport, parks the car outside the compound Shady and I share with three other families.

Naomi moves closer to me and links her hand in mine.

“Thank you for the fun I had back in Fiji.”

“Thank you for the vacation. I really needed it.”

She dips her other hand into her handbag and takes out another envelope, much like the one she gave me almost two months ago, only fatter. I had returned the other one on the morning I went to her.

“I added two thousand dollars, Cece. You need it. Take it.”

Am I to be a hypocrite and say no after I have enjoyed an entire trip on her tab? No, not when Shady and I both need it.

I take the envelope and on my own accord, hug her. Despite the attraction thing she has going on in her head, she has been a good friend. Not tested, not trusted, just good.

I come down and head into the compound as her car drives away. At the entrance of the compound I see my neighbors, all three of them, seated on a bench. Two are married while the other lives with her fiancée. They are all housewives, the types that sit and gossip about working women like me. I know that I’m always the main topic of all their discussions.

Walking past them, I throw in a greeting that is tersely answered. I walk to my door, and just as I insert the key, I hear, “Iya Dara, your husband and pikin no dey here again o!”

I pretend not to have heard. I turn the key, push in a rather dusty door and walk into an empty living room.

I stop, not sure if I am in the right house. Everything is gone. From the furniture, to curtains, and even our wedding photos on the walls.

I hear a voice behind me. It’s the neighbor who had spoken earlier.

“I been dey tell you say your husband don pack but you no answer.”

“My husband packed?” I turn. “To where nau?”

She hits the back of one hand over the palm of the other with her lips pressed together and sloped down in a gossip manner.

“Last week, hin carry one big lorry wey come pack everything commot. You sef, where you go? Una been dey fight abi na wetin?”

I don’t answer her. I walk to my bedroom and find it in a similar state as the living room. Same with Dara’s bedroom.

“Your husband sha don change. Hin get one fine jeep like this.”

I look at her.

“Chasis ride! Whether dem dey call am Pathfinder abi na Range Rover, I know no. The car sha fine die! Even the cloth hin dey wear these days…correct, correct corporate. I no know say the man handsome like that.” She laughs. “If na vex you vex am, biko, go beg am before all these Lagos girls help you manage am.”

All she is saying is strange in my ear but I intend to get to the bottom of it. I give my empty house one last look and step out. Outside the compound, I restore my Nigerian SIM card and the first thing I do is dial Shady. He picks my call.

“Hey, bae.”

“Shady? What is going on? I’m at the house and there’s nothing there. What happened? Where are you? Where is Dara?”

He laughs. Heartily. “Calm down, madam. Your blood too dey hot. Where are you?”

“At home.”

“Stay there. I’ll come get you. Welcome back.”

He hangs up and I contemplate on whether I should go back into the compound or wait outside. I choose the latter, settling on a bench with my travel case beside me. I wait for a long time and Shady eventually comes – driving an SUV I don’t recognize. Like my neighbor noted, it’s a Pathfinder, sleek and black. When Shady steps out of it dressed like he owns the stolen billions the president has been trying to recover, I blink several times.

He walks to me, sweeps me up and kisses lips that are parted in surprise.

“Shadrach, what is going on?”

He doesn’t reply. He ushers me into the SUV, taking my luggage along. Later on, after long kisses, him gushing over me and refusing to let go of my hand, he tells me how Ibro changed our fortune.

I sit beside him, quiet, staring. I can hardly recognize him. He is happy, talking rapidly, telling me how many more doors have opened since then but he is wiser now to hold on to what is working well for him. He thanks me for walking out on him to shake out the lazy man he used to be.

“You did the right thing, leaving me, Cee.”

But it hadn’t felt that way that night when I was sitting on the floor, wondering what I was supposed to do. I always used to have a quick answer to situations like that.

“Walk away from the marriage,” I would say. “Once he hits you, he’ll never stop.”

But there I was, the woman who was hit by her husband, and the last thing I wanted to do was leave Shady. He was on his knees. He was begging, having just called my brother, Joey, and reported himself. I would have warned him against doing that if I had known he would. Joey will thrash him like a child when next he sees him. One, two, ten years from now, Joey will enact his revenge. Shady was never Joey’s choice for me.

“Too broke,” Joey had told me after their first meeting. “Find someone with the means to take care of you.”

But I had never been that woman who puts money before love. I loved Shady with that deep kind of love that was rare. And I still do. I still love the man who has abused me.

I didn’t stop weeping. My mind was plagued with many things.

Shady was not an abusive man…but what if he really was? What if that was the beginning of an abusive marriage?

Was I to walk away? Or give him another chance? If I give him another chance will things go back to how they used to be? Could I trust him not to hurt me? And then there was that little issue of my pride that had been bruised. Where was the Celia who would not take nonsense from any man? Why did I feel so weak? What the hell was I to do?

He didn’t stop begging, and the hardest part was that he gave no excuses over what he had done. The devil, jealousy, a bad childhood, my sharp mouth, his financial situation – none of them were to blame. It was all on him. He didn’t even say it was a mistake, nor was he asking me to forgive him. He was simply begging me not to see him as a monster. In-between were moments when he stopped and thought back to the time when he hit me, shocked at himself for what he had done.

I was shocked as he was but hours passed and some kind of numbness took over, bringing dark silence as we both lay in bed. I did not let him touch me. I cringed at the feel of his hand over my skin, and so he withdrew.

Neither of us slept. The morning came as quietly as the night left. I rose from the bed, packed my clothes into a bag and told him I was leaving.

“Take the car.” He jumped out of bed and went for the car key. I shook my head. “Please… you need it.”

“I don’t.”

“Celia…”

“Shady, stop… I’m just going away to clear my head and know what to do with us. I don’t need the car.”

I couldn’t look into his face—at expressive eyes that always drew me in like quicksand, or at generous lips that had kissed me a million different ways—and lose my will to leave. This marriage thing, nobody tells you, is iron mixed with miry clay. It gets you stuck and you cannot leave without breaking your legs. But it wasn’t entirely about leaving. It was about knowing I had the choice whenever it became too difficult to clutch. It was about power.

Yes, I had it all figured out, feminist me. I knew all my options and I’d been through scenes like that in my head but nothing trumps reality, when you have to tear away from the person that has become your breath.

“Are you going with Dara?” Shady had asked.

“No.”

I didn’t give him an explanation, and that was because I didn’t have any. I just wanted to stay far from everybody.

I hurried out before he said something that could break me further. I didn’t check on Dara. I just breezed past her bedroom and through the living room to find the cold, moist air that was outside my warm home. I had no plan when I went away that morning but somehow I found my purpose out there. Fiji gave me freedom. Fiji showed me I can do and be whatever I want to do and be. It awakened my wanderlust.

I love my husband, I have forgiven him, I am ecstatic for what Ibro has done in our lives but this is not who I want to be right now.

Shady’s warm, wet lips rest on mine in a loving kiss. I almost tear up at the happiness I see in his eyes. Finally, he is here. He can hold his head high without pretense. I am happy but I am sad my own dreams will take me away from him.

“Let’s go home,” I say. “Wherever home is…”

He chuckles. “We’ll pick Dara from the office, first.” He starts the car. His left hand is on the wheel and the right one holds mine.

This is a perfect scene, one we have always fantasized about but how do I tell him that in a short while I’ll be jetting off to some other part of the world and I’ll abandon him and Dara again? How do I tell him that I’ve found my dreams but they have nothing to do with him?

©Sally@moskedapages

Translations:

Juma’at – Friday

Asr – The late part of the afternoon when Muslims pray

Eziokwu – Is that so? Oh yeah?

 

Images: favim.com, birthwithoutfear