Yesterday,
at exactly 8:15 she called me; interrupting my night beauty cleanse routine. Our
names were not necessary to divulge, no need for niceties or the display of
manners. We were partners of the same man, almost best friends in our combined
knowledge of you. I had been expecting this call for three years.
She
started off with an apology
“I
am sorry to bother you, but why won’t you let me be happy?”
She
sounded strong but at the same time I could hear that she had been crying. Her
voice held so much pain under layers of faux confidence.
Uttering
my first statement;
“Excuse
me?”
I
pretended I was not aware of what she referred to.
Humoring
me or genuinely believing I was clueless of what she spoke of; “Why won’t you
let me be happy” she repeated.
“I
know who you are and what you are doing. You are the reason I cry to bed, you
are why the reason I smile won’t smile back at me. My bed for two houses one,
he spends my nights with you. His family misses him; please return my joy to
me. I am begging you. Again, why won’t you let me be happy”; and then came the
tears.
I
have to say I was touched by the poetic flow of her mind. You had told me but
nonetheless I still managed to be impressed.
She
kept sniffing and mumbling “why” I could hear the tissue box beside her as she
dragged paper after paper.
“Please
leave my husband for me, my children need their father” any trace of strength
that I had initially heard or probably imagined was gone now.
“Don’t
you have any shame or decency to respect the sanctity of a marriage?” she
weepily said to me
Her sniveling was beginning to irritate me and
my silence was not helping matters.
I
asked her to meet me at the mall in one of those little restaurants that we
never go to because of terrible service. My night was spent thinking of what I
would tell her, what excuse would I give to the mother of your children and the
person you promised you won’t part with till death.
I
woke up resolved I was going to cancel, tell her to ask you why you had defiled
your marriage and never bother me again. But my curiosity did me in; I found
myself at the mall, in a chair at a shitty restaurant.
After
five minutes of waiting, she came in. Beautiful in an elven way, she was so
tiny and she looked about ready to break if anything as much as a tray hit her,
but her eyes. Her eyes; spoke of so much sadness mixed with worry. After
learning of her appearance and not waiting to hear whatever she had to say.
I
simply said I am sorry and walked out. I had perused your wife and learned I didn’t
have the cure to what ailed her. It was not my place to do what you should have
done.
How
was I to tell her why she wasn’t enough? Who am I tell to her why I make your
blood hot and cool it at the same time. I have no reason for why you look at me
like I am the last thing you want to see before you die. It confuses me when
you wake me up at three am, crying, repeatedly saying “I love you” although you
know I hate it when you disturb my sleep. Words elude me when you hold my hand
tight and squeeze my tiny butt in the streets of Lagos, to the shame of every
witness including me. I wished I could say I am sorry, offer tips to your wife
on how to keep you, but I have nothing. I am devoid of reasons why you love me.
I can’t possibly tell her the truth, of how we fell in love as children.
Experimenting at the age of fifteen and sixteen in the most cliché of romances,
we did things that my body never forgot and never will. How we lost ourselves
in the river of globalization and tourism or explain the way I had felt when you
bumped into me in Ikeja and then your world felt right again.
All
I can tell your anti-divorce wife, who would rather suffer than leave the “father
of her children”, is that I am the one thing that completes you. I can’t tell her
you married the distraction while searching for your destiny.
I
will let you tell her that she is not your missing half.
NKem Oyaghire
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