Lookout For Miss Right - 3

Her number burned a hole in my pocket for the rest of that week. There was something delectably irresistible about her.
Maybe it was her boldness I found alluring. There was nothing secretive about her. Her vivaciousness and bubbling nature had me intrigued.
I couldn’t help wondering why she’d taken an interest in me. I’m not ugly or anything, but I’m not the connoisseur of good looks. At least so I keep telling myself.
I would like to tell myself that I’d charmed her off her feet but that would be deceiving myself, because not once during our conversation had I released my charm.
I didn’t call her.
That weekend I decided to talk about my dilemma with my friends. I was hosting them for the weekend, it was a tradition we’d started four years ago. We took turns hanging out in each other’s place; the closeness and feeling of intimacy it brought was what I cherished about those weekends.

I didn’t wait too long to spill to them the reason for my discomfort that week. Femi, as usual was immediately interested in the woman that had caught my fancy.
“Guy…Chief Odeniran’s daughter?” He gaped. “Abeg, what are you waiting for? Call her or pass her number to me.”
“Because na only you sabi fine thing abi?” I reproached.
“I thought you’re not interested. This one you’re still thinking it over. Let me enjoy while you make up your mind.”
I ignored him.
“When on earth will you stop this playboy life and settle down?” Flores teased. “I just hope one day you won’t catch one unnameable disease.”
“Sweetheart. Have I not told you I intend to die with a woman on top of me?”
“May God not answer that prayer.” Oscar said. “So, back to Jake, what do you want to do now?”
“To call or not to call, that’s the question.” Femi teased.
“The truth is I’m not sure. I’m tired of moving from one chick to another.”
“What are you saying?” Flores asked. “You broke up with your last babe three years ago. So which one be moving from one chic to another?”
“I know. It’s just that I feel like there’s something missing in my life. In clear terms; I’m unhappy. I don’t need some woman who’d drain me of all I have, not a casual relationship. I need the…woman. You know the one who I’d share my success with, my fears, my everything…”
The air in the living room was now sober. It seemed like my words had cast a certain mist in the atmosphere.
“In other words.” I paused for effect. “Oscar, I want what you have. I want that inane happiness I sense in you. I envy what you have with Abigail. No vex ooh, didn’t mean to sound so…ahem…”
“No offence ooh.”
I smiled.
And suddenly the mist broke. Femi began clapping.
“Femi, what’s that?” Flores darted a look at him.
“Omo, see speech. Kai, I wish I fit talk even half of wetin you talk. I always know say na Shakespeare you be.” Femi teased.
“Sharrap joor.” I said. “I’m talking serious matter here.”
“So, bottom line Jake, is that you’re not sure whether to pursue this Sonia girl?” Oscar asked. “You don’t know if you’ll find what you’re looking for in her.”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“And I say, why don’t you give her a try. It’s just a date. Call her up and fix one.” Flores said.  “You don’t have to pledge undying love to her or anything.”
“Or better still. Give me her number and I’ll call her and set up the date between you two.” Femi grinned.
“Speaking of number sef, why didn’t you hook Jake up with your er…step-sister?” It was Flores asking.
Femi shrugged without giving a reply.
“Or is she too good for him?” Flores pressed.  “You didn’t even co-operate sef. Which kain friend you be?”
“True ooh. Femi, why now?” Oscar joined.
“He was not interested. It was her beauty that attracted him.” Femi finally said.
“Oh Lord…look who’s talking. You of all people! Don’t even go there.” Flores was getting worked up.
I listened as they tossed words back and forth. As I listened to Femi defend himself; the realisation dawned on me. I wondered why it hadn’t occurred to me before…
“You’re sleeping with her!” I exclaimed.

Everyone turned to look at me.

I was sure of it now. It all added up. The intimate looks that had passed between them, his reluctance to leave her side…

“What did you say?” Oscar asked.
“He’s sleeping with her. That’s why he didn’t want to introduce me.” I turned to him. “Isn’t that true?”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Lookout For Miss Right - 3

Her number burned a hole in my pocket for the rest of that week. There was something delectably irresistible about her.
Maybe it was her boldness I found alluring. There was nothing secretive about her. Her vivaciousness and bubbling nature had me intrigued.
I couldn’t help wondering why she’d taken an interest in me. I’m not ugly or anything, but I’m not the connoisseur of good looks. At least so I keep telling myself.
I would like to tell myself that I’d charmed her off her feet but that would be deceiving myself, because not once during our conversation had I released my charm.
I didn’t call her.
That weekend I decided to talk about my dilemma with my friends. I was hosting them for the weekend, it was a tradition we’d started four years ago. We took turns hanging out in each other’s place; the closeness and feeling of intimacy it brought was what I cherished about those weekends.

I didn’t wait too long to spill to them the reason for my discomfort that week. Femi, as usual was immediately interested in the woman that had caught my fancy.
“Guy…Chief Odeniran’s daughter?” He gaped. “Abeg, what are you waiting for? Call her or pass her number to me.”
“Because na only you sabi fine thing abi?” I reproached.
“I thought you’re not interested. This one you’re still thinking it over. Let me enjoy while you make up your mind.”
I ignored him.
“When on earth will you stop this playboy life and settle down?” Flores teased. “I just hope one day you won’t catch one unnameable disease.”
“Sweetheart. Have I not told you I intend to die with a woman on top of me?”
“May God not answer that prayer.” Oscar said. “So, back to Jake, what do you want to do now?”
“To call or not to call, that’s the question.” Femi teased.
“The truth is I’m not sure. I’m tired of moving from one chick to another.”
“What are you saying?” Flores asked. “You broke up with your last babe three years ago. So which one be moving from one chic to another?”
“I know. It’s just that I feel like there’s something missing in my life. In clear terms; I’m unhappy. I don’t need some woman who’d drain me of all I have, not a casual relationship. I need the…woman. You know the one who I’d share my success with, my fears, my everything…”
The air in the living room was now sober. It seemed like my words had cast a certain mist in the atmosphere.
“In other words.” I paused for effect. “Oscar, I want what you have. I want that inane happiness I sense in you. I envy what you have with Abigail. No vex ooh, didn’t mean to sound so…ahem…”
“No offence ooh.”
I smiled.
And suddenly the mist broke. Femi began clapping.
“Femi, what’s that?” Flores darted a look at him.
“Omo, see speech. Kai, I wish I fit talk even half of wetin you talk. I always know say na Shakespeare you be.” Femi teased.
“Sharrap joor.” I said. “I’m talking serious matter here.”
“So, bottom line Jake, is that you’re not sure whether to pursue this Sonia girl?” Oscar asked. “You don’t know if you’ll find what you’re looking for in her.”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“And I say, why don’t you give her a try. It’s just a date. Call her up and fix one.” Flores said.  “You don’t have to pledge undying love to her or anything.”
“Or better still. Give me her number and I’ll call her and set up the date between you two.” Femi grinned.
“Speaking of number sef, why didn’t you hook Jake up with your er…step-sister?” It was Flores asking.
Femi shrugged without giving a reply.
“Or is she too good for him?” Flores pressed.  “You didn’t even co-operate sef. Which kain friend you be?”
“True ooh. Femi, why now?” Oscar joined.
“He was not interested. It was her beauty that attracted him.” Femi finally said.
“Oh Lord…look who’s talking. You of all people! Don’t even go there.” Flores was getting worked up.
I listened as they tossed words back and forth. As I listened to Femi defend himself; the realisation dawned on me. I wondered why it hadn’t occurred to me before…
“You’re sleeping with her!” I exclaimed.

Everyone turned to look at me.

I was sure of it now. It all added up. The intimate looks that had passed between them, his reluctance to leave her side…

“What did you say?” Oscar asked.
“He’s sleeping with her. That’s why he didn’t want to introduce me.” I turned to him. “Isn’t that true?”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Lookout for Miss Right - 2

To say she was stunning would be an understatement- a mere insult. This woman had me dumbstruck. She had skin the colour of honey, shiny and attractive. On her head was an elaborate hairdo whose name I didn’t bother to know.
Her musky scent tickled my nostrils and left my mouth hanging with admiration.
I could see she relished the effect she had on me. It was her body that captivated me the most; rather, her fleshy chest which she had barely covered had gotten my attention.
She was dressed in a tight red gown that scarcely kissed her knees. Oh my!

“People! Stop staring!” Femi’s voice snapped me out of my trance. “Meet my sister. Barbara Bode-Johnson.” He made a sweeping gesture towards her, a sanctimonious look on his face.
“Your…what?” I stammered. “Since when, Femi?”
“Step-sister actually.” Her voice was delightful. “Don’t be naughty Femi.”
“My popsy’s second wife’s daughter.” I could tell he was gloating. “Barbs, meet my crazy friends. That young guy over there is Jacob, and this prude chick here is Florence.”
I wanted to punch him. What sort of wiseass introduction was that?

“Nice to meet you, guys” She settled on the couch beside Femi.
“Femi, I don’t blame you. Me, prude abi? Yeye boy.” Florence glowered at  him.

I shifted nervously; my uncharacteristic speechlessness in front of this lady was putting me at a disadvantage. I made eyes at Femi, communicating to him my interest in his step-sister; hoping he’d take the cue and set the ball rolling.
My good friend deliberately ignored me while laughing over something with Barbara.

“Barbara. That’s a beautiful name.” I eventually spoke. It was the ultimate cliché; the testing ground for an upcoming ‘toast’, but I didn’t care- I needed to do something to get her attention.

She didn’t even glance at me when she thanked me for my empty compliment.
I gave Flores a pleading look, begging her to come to my aid. She smiled fleetingly and rose to her feet.
“Femi, oya let’s go and get lunch ready. You promised to help with the cooking today, remember?”
I glowed with joy within me. Florence to the rescue!

“But…”  Femi began.
“Now, Femi. Abi you’re not hungry? Get your butt into the kitchen now, jare.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order.
I watched Femi shuffle reluctantly to his feet and I immediately took his place beside the couch.
Over the years I’d learned the number one rule of ‘chyking’ a girl; pretend like you care about  more than what she looks like. Get her to talk about herself, feign interest in what she’s interested in.
From her conversation with Femi, I’d gleaned that she was into fashion, so my opening line was:
“How long have you been into fashion?”
This time she looked at me, fixing me with a bland look. “Six years.” She said.
“Interesting. My sister would also like to go into fashion. She always talks about it.” Big lie but something to nudge her into opening up more.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Ad if this is what fashionistas look like; I won’t mind having one for a sister.”
She didn’t blush or smile. She just stared at me.
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
She shrugged. I had the distinct feeling she was playing the part. Quiet my foot!
“Tell me about yourself.” I said, finally.
Normally, that line hardly worked. I was surprised when she took the bait and plunged into a diatribe. For the next one hour, I heard everything about Barbara Bode-Johnson. But mehn…she could talk ehn! All she needed was a cue. She glided from one topic to the other.
At some point I blocked her out and floated to an alternate universe. I only tuned in to the important things I felt I needed to know about her. I stored them in my archive for future reference.
The rest of the day went by uneventfully. I found myself watching her closely. Who was she really? Who was the lady behind the mask? I’d been in countless relationships and hadn’t gotten the necessary fulfilment from them, was I ready to pursue a relationship with this well made-up lady?

I have to admit she lingered in my thoughts for days, but he; that didn’t stop me from admiring the next girl that caught my fancy.
I met her exactly a week after meeting Barbara at a dinner party organized by the bank where I work.
I had come to the party alone which gave me enough opportunity to admire the pretty ladies in attendance.
The first time I spotted Sonia, it was from across the room and it was her boisterous laughter that caught my attention. She held a glass in her hand; her head thrown back while laughing in abandon.
“That’s Sonia Odeniran.” A voice spoke at my shoulder. It was a colleague of mine and he’d noticed me watching her.
“Oh?”
“She’s Chief Odeniran’s daughter.”
“Impressive.”  Chief Odeniran was a major client in our bank.
“I think she just returned from overseas…I’m not sure where” My colleague continued.
I excused myself from my colleague and decided to take a position where I’ll have easy access to Sonia. I succeeded in inserting myself in their little group and joining their conversation, this also afforded me a chance to check her out up close.
While she wasn’t exactly the beauty Barbara was, she had her curves in the right places. She was plump and well-endowed with a generous amount of backside. A real Yoruba lady. I grinned inwardly.

“Hello handsome.” Her voice startled me.
“Hello.” I held out my hand. “I’m sorry I just couldn’t seem to stop staring.”
She let out a school-girl giggle. “I don’t mind. As long as you like what you see.”
I clasped her bejewelled hand in mine, marvelling at her directness.
“I do.” I made eye contact. “I’m Jacob Kojo. Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”
“Sonia Odeniran.” She smiled. “And if I may I say; I like what I see too.”
I suddenly had the feeling that somehow we’d exchanged places. Who was doing the hunting?
“So, what are you? Businessman? Investor? Client?” she went on to ask.
“Banker. Your father is one of our major clients.”
“Ooooh…banker. That sounds sexy.” She batted her eyes at me.
She was flirting with me!
“Let’s get a drink.” I said, trying to calm myself.
“You look shy. Makes you more attractive.” She tossed over her shoulder as we went in search of drinks.
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t think of a suitable reply. This was supposed to be my game. I was supposed to be in charge of situations like this, so what had happened? When had the tables turned?
“Are you okay?” She asked, after handing me a drink.
I liked her voice. Feminine yet strong.
“Sure. Why?”
“You look, well…overwhelmed. I’m sorry if I’m talking nonsense. I’m afraid my stay in the States has rubbed off on me.”
“Oh? I don’t think you’re talking nonsense at all. I love listening to you.”
She grinned at me; there was nothing coquettish about her.
“I’m doing my Masters in America. I just got back.  Hey, let me have your phone.”
I obeyed. She punched the keypad a few times before handing the phone back to me.
“My number. You’ll need it.” She blew me a kiss, before walking away, her hips swaying provocatively.

I felt a rush of blood to my loins. What kind of girl is this?

That night I dreamt of swaying hips and a woman calling me ‘handsome’.
But I awoke with the name Barbara on my lips…

To be continued…

Lookout for Miss Right - 1

The year was 2011 and I had just turned 27. I was doing quite well as a bachelor, with a stable job in a bank. I had my own apartment and could afford three meals a day. One could say I had everything I wanted…except, I hated my job. Banking had never been my dream job, it had been something my family wanted for me and I eventually found myself doing. The pay was fairly good, and sometimes I get bonuses. At least I got to work in an air-conditioned room.
Okay…so I had more than some people could boast of but I felt like there was something missing. Something that made me feel unfulfilled, yet I couldn’t place my finger on it. I lived my life virtually like every young bachelor would - spending Mondays to Fridays working and the weekend chilling with my pals. These friends were what made my world go round; they gave me a break from the real world and my hectic job. Femi, Florence and Oscar were what I would call the world’s best friends; we had known each other since our University days and had remained thick as thieves even after graduation.
We were an odd combination; wild, conservative and crazy. Amongst us, Oscar was the genius. His glasses added to his sense of superiority. He was the nerdy, good-looking guy; the type that thrilled girls with his medical jargon. Did I mention he’s a doctor? And oh yea, he’s engaged to be married to a wonderful lady. Abigail.
Femi, on the other hand is the exact opposite of Oscar. He’s the air head among us with an infectious sanguine disposition. He’s loud mouthed; the spoilt rich kid, the womanizer. His favorite past time apart from women was cars. And he could afford them. His father was wealthy.
“Life is too short to brood.” He liked to say, beer in hand, lady on laps.
Apart from Florence, he was the star of our group. The glue that held us together, the one who made us laugh.
Florence was our girl. She was our mother hen and sister. She brought balance to our friendship whenever Oscar was depressed or Femi was being rash or when I was being stupid.
As for me, what can I say? I lived a very simple life. Well, until something changed all that.

Fridays are the best days of the week for me because it meant freedom from my hellish job and an opportunity to spend time with my friends and well, a wonderful time to laze around.
It was Friday again and I was cleaning my desk for the weekend when my phone rang:
“Guy what’s up?” It was Femi.
“Packing up. Where you dey?”
“Outside. In your parking lot.”
“Abeg chill. On my way.”
I slid my laptop into my bag and rushed out to meet Femi.
He was in his latest purchase; a gold Sienna. I opened the car door and entered the back seat. Florence sat in the front seat beside him.
“Hi guys.” I greeted.
“You closed late today, abi?” Florence asked.
“Nah. I think you closed too early.”
Florence was a teacher in a primary school; something she loved doing.
“Abeg who’s that chick?” It was Femi; he was staring out of his window.
I looked in the direction he was pointing, it was Jennifer, one of my co-workers.
“Forget it man.” I said.
“Why? She’s hot.”
“She’s married.” I retorted.
“Can’t you stay one moment without drooling over a woman?” Florence asked, slapping the back of his head.
“Drive joor. She’s off limits.” I said.
With a sigh, he started the car and drove off. We were not strangers to Femi’s addiction to women; well, maybe addiction is too strong a word but he certainly liked the ladies, and funny thing is, they liked him too. He knew exactly what to say to get them blushing or smiling sheepishly. And maybe the fact that he was quite wealthy added to the lure. Everything about him was flashy, cars, clothes, house and even his haircut.
“Does Oscar have night shift today?” Florence asked.
“No. Afternoon, I think.” I replied.
“Seriously, how does he do it?” Femi asked. “He works all day and yet he managed to catch a fine chick. And they’re getting married! Ah!”
“Maybe when you decide to settle down, you’ll find a woman like Abigail too…besides Oscar fine oo. You don see his abs?” Florence chuckled.
Femi and I looked at her in mock awe. “Oh! You’ve seen Oscar’s abs before? Florence!” I teased.
“Shut up both of you joor.”
“Wait, you dey try tell me say I wowo?” Femi threw her a sharp look.
“Abeg, Flores, no vex Femi before he pack us under trailer.” I said with a laugh.

We were hanging out at Femi’s that weekend. His house was a duplex with more rooms that I could count. I couldn’t imagine living the extravagant life Femi lived. I always wondered what I would do if I had the kind of money Femi had.
I would probably find someone to share it with, not those cheap girls that Femi spent time with…someone special, a decent girl like Oscar had found.
Truth is, lately I’d been thinking about that special someone. I’d been giving my life a lot of thought recently. Perhaps it was time to settle down.

We were reclining in Femi’s second parlor when she walked in.
The woman that will change my life.

Love,friendship, romance.

"LET ME BE YOUR FOREVER"

“Your beauty is exquisite Aailyah"
Those words instantly transport me to a time when life was truly beautiful.
I smile.
“You’ve always rocked my world.” His voice flits toward me.
I reach out to touch him; to feel him.

“Aailyah…I want to feel you in me. Your love completes me. You’re my all.”

I feel the tears trickling down my face. I don’t know why I’m crying. Perhaps because I’m overwhelmed with joy at seeing him.
I cling to him, welcoming him into my world again. I can feel the bond that holds us.

“Will you ever leave me, Adin?” I whisper.
His only answer is to lower his lips gently to mine; caressing my lips softly with his. His kiss has always meant heaven to me. Those lips that never grow old, they have sent me to destinations unknown in time past. I could pick them out of a crowd of countless lips.
I feel my heart beating loudly against my chest as he kisses me. I don’t want to ever let go.
“Hold me, Adin.” I say, my eyes filling with tears. “Take me with you. I’ll be your forever.”

I watch him smile at me- that golden smile. The one that melted me when I first saw it. His dimples blink shyly at me.

“Mummy?” A voice slices the peace in my heart. “Mummy! What are you doing?!”

I blink, looking in the direction of the voice. All I see is darkness. My Adin is gone.
“No! Don’t leave me!” I scream, reaching out to grip him.
“Mummy! Calm down.” That pesky voice again.
“Adin please don’t go.” I’m sobbing now.
Hands suddenly cradle me.

“Easy mummy.” She says, her voice sounding suddenly familiar and soothing.
I wonder why she keeps calling me mummy.
“I want Adin.” I say, hoping she will hear me. “I saw him here, just a few minutes ago.”

There’s silence. My sweet-voiced girl doesn’t answer me. Then I hear another voice:
“She’s agitated. Leave her be. I’ll give her her medication.”
“Doctor, is she going to ever know me again?” I hear the sweet-voiced girl now. “She’s always talking about my father; calling his name! But what about me?!”

I open my eyes, trying to see the girl. Again I see darkness.
Nothing. No Adin. No girl. I’m all alone.
“I’m sorry Miss. I wish I could reassure you but I can’t. Your mother suffered a traumatic accident that affected not just her sight, but her memory also.”
“So she will never recover either? Give me some hope, doctor! It’s been two years already! It’s the same story! You think I like seeing my mother in this condition? I hate coming to this place, I come because I love her.  But how can I love someone who doesn’t even know me?”

I can feel her trembling. I sense the pain in her voice and I wish I can comfort her. Adin always knows how to comfort me.
“Adin can comfort you.” I say, reaching out to touch her.
“Oh for God’s sake Mum! Daddy is dead!”
Suddenly the hands are no longer holding me. I miss their comforting touch.
“Lie down Aailyah. It’s time for your medication.” It’s the other voice I hear now.
I sense the needle as it makes contact with my skin. Drowsiness sets in.
I know I’m about to take a trip; perhaps I will meet Adin again. And this time never let him go.

2013 All rights reserved. MimiAdebayo.

HABIBA

Her name is Habiba; she is the pretty girl that sells recharge cards under the mango tree at the junction of our street. I don’t know how old she is but I think she’s older than me, but age is just a number when it comes to love, right?
I’m only fourteen but I’ve learned to admire beauty. So I am very sure of what I mean when I say I’m going to marry Habiba when I’m older. I have not told her this.
I have only told Salma my elder sister and she laughed at me. Salma is sixteen and developing,we are the only children of our mother but we manage to spend very little time with either of our parents.
Mama would rather spend all her time in the prayer house begging God to convert Papa’s wicked soul.
Papa, on the other hand has four other children besides me and Salma that keep his hands full. I’ve always wondered what religion I will eventually practice.
Papa is a Muslim and Mama is a Christian; Mama has once mentioned that she’d been instructed by a prophetess to marry Papa and that her purpose in life is to convert him.
Well;  sixteen years have come and gone; Papa married another wife and he’s as strong a Muslim as ever.
I’ve tried telling Mama that maybe her prophetess made a mistake all those years ago; she tells me:
“Sule, God’s time is the best. I will be patient.”
She says that often and I wonder when the time named ‘God’s time’ will come.
Even though Mama makes us go to church with her; I’m not sure I believe like she does. Maybe because I’ve watched her go from one prayer house to another seeking answers.
Mama doesn’t eat; not because she doesn’t want to, but because she’s always on one fast or the other.
“This weekend is deliverance weekend.” She’ll say. “We have to fast seven days to prepare ourselves for God’s blessing.”
Salma and I hate these impromptu fasts because Mama always makes sure we participate by not cooking except for Papa.
And then when the Muslim fasts come; we are expected to participate too.
I might become a Muslim because I want to marry Habiba; but then again- I could be a Christian and make Habiba become one too. I would not need to visit prayer houses to get her to change; our love would be strong enough to make that choice for us.

Today is Friday and I’m walking from school alone. On other days Salma and I walk home together, recently though, my sister has been trying to separate herself from me.
A friend of mine told me it is puberty.” Salma is changing,” he said.” She now has big breasts and her bottom is round. She can get married any day!”
The picture of my sister married is a funny one, though not a strange one.
I don’t know if that’s her reason for leaving me but I don’t care. I need space too. If I’m going to start courting Habiba; I must look and act mature.
Maybe I will write her a poem! Oh Habiba! Your eyes are like the stars twinkling like er…
Perhaps a poem isn’t such a good idea. I’m now at the junction where Habiba’s spot is but I don’t see her anywhere.
Her usual spot is empty. I wonder where she is.
However, I continue my journey home. Tomorrow is another day. Or this evening. I could sneak out just to take a peek at dear Habiba.

As I approach the house, I notice the compound is empty. I can tell where my two Mamas have gone to. But I was expecting Salma to be home.
I’m passing to my room but I decide to take a peek through her room window to see if she’s home.
The blinds are pulled down but there’s a small hole in her curtain which I doubt she knows about, so I stand on tiptoe and peep into the room.
I almost fall when I see them.
My one and only Habiba and my sister kissing.

And the first thought that comes to mind is that I will join Mama tomorrow on her visit to the prayer house. I have a reason - My heart has just been broken.

The Sword Called Divorce (Episode Finale)

Joe wasn’t sure what to do. He hesitated before opening the door.
“Who’s it?” Nike emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hand with a dishrag.
“Er…” shifted on his feet.
The door fell open to reveal Izie standing in the doorway. It was raining outside and she was dripping wet.
“May I come in?” She hugged herself.
“What for?” Nike was suddenly on the defensive, twirling the dish rag in her hands.
“Please, it’s cold out here.”
Without another word, Joe shifted to let her in. He wasn’t sure what was about to happen, but he knew he didn’t wanna be there. This was wrong timing. He’d thought Izie was outta their lives for good.
“What do you want, Izie?” Nike asked, standing with arms akimbo.
“Sister Izie! Hello!” It was Bella who broke the ice, she ran towards her and threw herself in  Izie’s arms, not minding her wet body.
“How are you, sweetheart?” Izie bent to kiss her, nervously.
“Come and see my homework.” She held on to Izie’s hand and pulled her towards the centre table.
“Bella darling. Go to your room and put on the TV.”  Nike ordered stiffly.
“But mummy…I want to…” Bella looked set to throw a tantrum.
“Bella. You heard your mummy. Let’s go and watch Dora the Explorer. You’ll see Sister Izie later.” Joe took her by the shoulders firmly and led her to her room.
The awkwardness returned to the room like the ghosts of a graveyard;   both women stared at themselves, one with disgust…the other with a plea. The nervousness that permeated the atmosphere was as thick as clothe.
“What do you want Izie? Nike was exasperated. “Why don’t you just leave us alone?”
“I came to see you. There’s nothing I have to say that you haven’t heard before but the difference is today I’m not leaving here without your forgiveness.”
The next thing Izie did stunned Nike. She dropped to her knees before her, wet clothes and all dripping all over the floor.
“I haven’t had a night of peace since this saga started. I regret what I did. I feel stupid for letting the devil use me to break a home. And I can’t live with myself if this family falls apart. Please ma, with every drop of blood in my body I’m begging you to forgive me. I am so sorry for what I did. Please find a place in your heart to forgive me.”
If Izie had looked closely, she’d have noticed that Nike was shaking almost frenziedly.
“Please ma. I’m not leaving here until you forgive me.” Izie reiterated, this time tears were running down her face.
“You…you have the guts to…do you…do you know what you…” Within the blink of an eye, Nike hit Izie right across the face, the impact sending her reeling back.
The only noise in the room was the whimpering sound coming from Izie.
“I deserve that. I deserve that and more. If it makes you feel better ma, go ahead and hit me again.” Izie snivelled.
Surprisingly, Nike sank to the floor in tears. She clutched at her chest and began sobbing softly.
Anyone walking in on the scene would be transfixed by the sight before their eyes. Two women, seemingly arch-enemies sat beside each other with tears running down their faces.
“Come here, you silly girl.” Nike whispered, and pulled Izie into her arms.
And with just one hug; the months of resentment melted away and slowly the pain began to heal. The healing balm began to do its work.
It’s called love and with it comes forgiveness.

No more words needed to be said, apologies were no longer essential…an unspoken agreement had just been made. Both women had come to terms with themselves and their mistakes.
“I’m making dinner. Coconut rice, will you eat?” Nike raised herself up, dusting her skirt.
“Er…ma, I have something to show you.”
“Again? What is it again?”
“Marie.”
At the sound of her daughter’s name, Nike pivoted sharply. “What? What did you say?”
Before she could reply the door to the sitting room flew open and Marie stood in the shadows.
“Mummy.” Her voice filtered in.
“Marie!!!” Without thinking, Nike ran forward and folded her daughter into her arms “Honey! Marie is home!!!” She announced, her voice brimming with joy.
The atmosphere at the Babalola’s residence was suddenly filled with joy, excitement and exhilaration. So many questions being asked without answers being given, lots of hugs and kisses and above the din no one noticed when Izie slipped away.

After fifteen minutes of hullabaloo, quietness returned to the atmosphere again.
“Where’s Izie?” Nike asked.
“Ah…she was here some minutes ago.” Joe responded.
“Mummy, daddy. Sister Izie is gone.” Marie said softly.
“What do you mean ‘gone’?”
“She said she’s leaving our lives for good. She came to say good bye.”
“Oh my God. She shouldn’t have left just like that. I have to call her. She’s family now. Where’s my phone?”
Joe and Marie watched Nike go off looking for her phone.

“Daddy where’s Bella?” Marie asked.
“She slept off while watching TV. Sweetheart don’t ever do that again, ok? Don’t run off to prove a point.”
“I wasn’t proving a point daddy. I wanted you and mummy back together again. I needed mummy to come back to her senses.”
“Well, let’s hope you succeeded. Come here and gimme a hug. We missed  you.”

“You planned this with Izie, right?”  Nike came back in, brandishing her phone.
“I’m sorry mummy. But I wanted you and daddy to see what it’s like to have a broken home.”
“You know what?” Nike stood with arms akimbo. “You’re too wise for your own age.”
Marie cracked a smile. “Did it work, mummy?”
“Well, let’s just say you taught me a good lesson. Now I know how much this family means to me.”
With that Nike covered the distance between her and her husband, holding out her hand to him.
“I’ve also learned the art of forgiveness. If anyone had told me some months ago that I wouldn’t hate you and Izie again…I would’ve sent that person to hell and back. But knowing what I know now…the way I felt when I let go of all the anger and pain, I feel so relieved, so light; like a burden has been taken off my shoulders. Honey, I’m sorry for being stubborn and unforgiving. I don’t know what came over me but we all make mistakes and even God forgives.”
“And I’m sorry for betraying you. It’ll never happen again.” Joe beamed and dropped to one knee. “Mrs Nike Babalola would you do me the favour of re-marrying me? Let’s renew our vows.”

Nike flushed, glancing at her daughter. “Yes, I will remarry you.”

MIMI. A

Copyright@mimiadebayo2013

The Sword Called Divorce (Episode 10)

“I…I…I didn’t  plan that.” As soon as the words left his mouth he knew how stupid they sounded. Whoever planned an erection? Besides she was his wife and his body could respond however it wanted.
“Just let go of me.” She said stiffly.
“It’s just telling you how much I miss you.”
“Miss sex, you mean.” She said sharply, slowly turning away.
He didn’t know what he was thinking when he pulled her into his arms and planted his lips on hers. Being typical Nike, she tried to struggle at first, but he didn’t let go.
Slowly but steadily her resistance weakened.

Nike didn’t know what kind of hold her husband had over her; even in her stubbornness, she couldn’t deny the flickering attraction between them; it had always been there and hadn’t disappeared over the years.
It had been that way when they first ,met, no matter how angry she was with him; she always melted the moment he touched her.
Once she’d confessed it to him during the early years of their marriage and he’d joked about it telling her he had magic fingers.
Even now, the magic seemed not to have diminished with time, neither had her attraction to him faltered.
It was as though he’d bewitched her, because one kiss led to another and it wasn’t long before they were entangled in each other’s bodies. How could you hate a man so much and still be fatally attracted to him?
She was working on her divorce and yet here she was sleeping with him; the enemy. Her husband who’d betrayed her. She felt no remorse, actually. She even felt good, whole…better than she’d felt in a long time. But she’d never tell him that.
This didn’t change anything. He’d caught her in a moment of weakness. She reassured herself.
And that’s exactly what she told him thirty minutes later when they were exhausted from love making.
“Keep telling yourself that.” He said quietly, as he pulled on his trousers.
“I mean it. It doesn’t change anything. You took advantage of me.” She watched him as he dressed, too ashamed to do same.
He laughed humourlessly. “Took advantage? Listen to yourself Nike. You’re not eighteen or naïve anymore. You’re denying what you feel for me.” He placed a quick kiss on her cheek. “But I won’t deny that I love you. I love you very much. Like I did the very first day.”
She stared at him at a loss for words.
He cracked a small smile. “Think about it, love. I’m gonna take a drive around and see if I’ll see Marie. She might be stranded or something.”
And with that he left.

Nike didn’t let her mind dwell on the words he’d left lingering in her mind. She’d forgotten what a charmer her husband was.
What exactly was she feeling? She asked herself. There was no doubt she detested him for what he’d done to her. But still her body tingled whenever he stood so close to her. Just like it had the very first day.
Still she couldn’t erase what he’d done from her head. The picture of Izie and Joe always sent a shudder down her spine.

Marie didn’t come home that week. She didn’t show up in school and no one had an idea of her whereabouts.
Nike had gone crazy with worry. She was moody and gave in to bouts of tears every now and then. She would sit Joe down and paint different scenarios of what could have possibly happened to their  daughter.
“Maybe she’s been kidnapped.”
“There’d be a ransom call.” Joe replied, wearily.
“Or she ran away and is staying with prostitutes.” Was her next suggestion.
“Our daughter never seemed like the type who wanted prostitution for a career.” Joe said.
She turned on him. “How can you joke at a time like this? Our daughter is missing!”
“And we’ve told the police. Let’s see what they come up with.”
“That bunch of incompetent losers? They’re more interested in kissing your ass than finding our daughter. Imagine the stupid Commissioner asking us to ‘drop something for the boys’ if we want a thorough job done.”
“And we talked to Pastor Briggs. The church is praying. She’ll be fine.” Joe said with a conviction he wasn’t feeling.
“Haven’t you noticed we haven’t been in God’s good graces these past weeks? I don’t think He’d listen to any prayer made on our behalf.”
“Nike, don’t say that. God won’t abandon us now.”
“Well, we abandoned him first.” She shrugged.
“I don’t know where this conversation is going.”
“Forget about it.” She stood and went into the room.
They hadn’t talked about the incident since it happened. Nike had not made any declarations of truce, although they were more comfortable with each other than before. One night, she’d come knocking on the door to the guest room, saying she couldn’t sleep and could she please stay awhile with him.
They’d slept on the same bed that night for the first time in a while and had been content just holding each other.
He’d sensed her fear and also sensed something else; guilt. She blamed herself for what had happened to Marie. She never voiced it out but he knew she was afraid of what could have befallen their daughter.

“Daddy, where is Marie?” Bella asked for the umpteenth time that week. She too was feeling the absence of her elder sister. She’d woken up one night in the room where she usually slept with Marie and bawled her eyes out.
“Sweetheart. She’s coming back soon, ok?” Nike replied with a slight quiver in her voce.
“She said we’re going to watch Dora the Explorer.” She pronounced ‘explorer’ as ‘esploraar’
“Daddy and I will watch it with you, ok?” Nike gave her a quick hug.

It was exactly ten days later when the Babalolas got a surprise visit. It was Monday evening and they’d just returned from a visit to the police station and had gotten no progress report. The police kept saying…”We’re working on it.”
It had been a depressing visit for them and Joe and Nike had come back together feeling drained. And Joe had then suggested they pray like a family just as they used to.
Nike looked at him, astonished. It had been a while since her husband initiated a prayer session. They held hands with Bella and went on their knees to pray.
As the prayer was going on; Nike felt something strange happen to her, it was as though something shifted in her heart. It was like a certain bond was formed in that moment; a bond that had been missing. She knew something had happened in her but she couldn’t tell what.
All she knew was that it was a good feeling and she savoured it.

The knock on the door sounded at exactly twenty-seven minutes to nine pm. Joe took note of this because he wondered who’d be visiting at this time. They’d gotten a lot of condolence visits during the period of Marie’s disappearance that he began to wonder if they were praying for his daughter to truly be dead.
He wondered if this was one of such visits.
“Daddy, the door.” Bella pointed.
He rose and went to the door. “Who is it?”
“Izie.”

(To be continued…)

The Sword Called Divorce (Episode 9)

Forgiveness at first, seems like one of the hardest things any human being could ever be asked to do. But we discover that when we open just a tiny window of our hearts and try to forgive, it becomes a lot easier and a hell of a burden is taken off our shoulders.
That’s exactly what happened with Marie. There seemed to be a pain lodged in her heart as Sister Izie  told her story.
But in that moment when she asked “So what happens now?” Marie knew what she had to do. She could see the remorse written plainly in Sister Izie’s eyes and she didn’t stop to think whether she was just being naïve.

“I hate what you’ve done to our family. But I hate what mummy is doing more. It’s unforgiveness that’s tearing us apart. But…I forgive you Sister Izie. You’re still the nice lady I really liked. You made a mistake. We all do sometimes.”
It was the most grown up speech Marie had ever made and a defining moment of her life. Little did she know that this lesson was one she’d carry with her for the rest of her life. Little did she know how much these words meant to the woman before her.
Sister Izie could hold herself no longer; she pulled Marie to her and enfolded her in a bear hug and suddenly a  feeling of elation swooped Marie into the third heavens and she almost immediately forgot that she’d hated this woman some minutes ago.

“Oh my…look at the time. Sweetie,  it’s almost ten.” Sister Izie exclaimed  as they seperated.
They’d both had no idea that time had moved so swiftly.
“Marie, you have to go home! Jesus! Mummy would be worried.” Sister Izie said. “And today’s your birthday!”
Marie glanced at her. “You remembered.”
“How could I forget? I  was just  looking for a right time to say it. Happy Birthday darling.”
“I did something stupid today. I left home since morning. I was so angry at them. Pretending that everything is okay when it’s not.” Marie said.
“Marie, are you telling me you’ve been away from home since morning?”
“Yes. I was at my friend’s house.”
“Ah…I have to call Mummy now. Let her know where you are so she’ll come and get you.” Izie looked around for her phone.
“Sister Izie, please no. I’m begging you. I don’t want to go back there today. The house is no longer as it used to be. Please…this is the worst birthday I’ve ever had.” She was sobbing again and Izie felt guilty.
“Oya come here. I understand. But don’t you want to call them and let them know you’re here?”
“No. I want them to worry.” It sounded selfish but even as she said it, a plan began to form in her mind.
“Sister Izie. I need a favour please. Would you help me?” She asked with a little tremor in her voice.
“Depends on what it is, sweetheart.”
“It’s a plan I have. A way to make my mum and dad need each other again. Will you help?”
Izie didn’t need more persuading but as she listened to the plan she began to wonder if it will be a good idea.
“It could backfire.” She reasoned. “Your mother could hate me forever.”
“We won’t give her room for that. Mummy loves me, no matter what she does. I think I can take solace in that.” Marie said confidently. “I can’t live in a broken home. Bella can’t grow up knowing mummy and daddy are living apart. It’s not a good thing.”
“Marie…I don’t know. The intent behind what you want to do is good but…”
“Do you want my family to break, Sister Izie?” Marie asked bluntly. “I got my period recently. Nobody knew. Only my friend. I couldn’t tell Mummy because we were still fighting. I don’t want to grow up that way. Please, Sister Izie.”
Sister Izie looked away.
“So please just help me.”
And so they agreed.

While the two ladies plotted and planned, Nike and Joe Babalola were worried out of their minds. For the first time in a while they had something in common to worry about. They sat in the living room quietly, neither voicing their fears.
Bella was asleep already.
“Did you call her friend?” Nike asked, the third time that evening.
Joe sighed patiently. “Yes I did. She said she left there like four hours ago.”
“Oh God.” Nike wrung her hands. “It’s ten pm, where could she be? She ought to be home by now.”
If they weren’t sitting at opposite sides of the room, Joe could have found a more suitable way to comfort her instead of spewing words of reassurance which he himself didn’t believe.

“I’m sure she’s okay. Probably still angry and letting off steam.” He said, lamely.
Nike threw him a scathing look. “Yea right. Marie, stay out this late because she’s angry? No way. Something’s happened to her. I can sense it.”
“Calm down. Let’s wait some more.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down! I hate it when you do that!” She was almost hysterical.
“It’s not my fault she walked out.” Joe retorted.
“Oh, so it’s mine? God, you’re so weak. Always looking for whom to blame.”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t see the need to. It would only open up old wounds.
“Now you’re not talking?!” She was obviously in the mood to vent. “You’re always looking for someone to blame when you mess up. If it’s not the devil, it’s me!”
“Nike, please not now. Bella is sleeping.” He said, trying to maintain his calm.
“Don’t I know what’s good for my daughter? Don’t tell me what to do! I’m sick and tired of you telling me what to do! You always know what’s best for the girls, abi? Where were you when I was carrying them for nine months? How do I know you weren’t off satisfying your libido with other women?!”
She was on a roll now, there was no stopping her.
And suddenly Joe felt the intense urge to slap her. Anything to make her shut up and forgive him. But he knew he wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t. He simply wasn’t that kind of man.
And so he sat there and let her talk, thinking how crazy it was that in her anger; she still looked terribly attractive to him. She was still dressed in the clothes she’d worn to church, the upper part of her shirt unbuttoned, exposing a slice of her cleavage and he found his eyes straying to that place every once in a while.
“You have nothing to say!!” She glared at him, asking for a fight.
“What do you want me to say, Nike? We both know what this is about. It’s no longer about our missing daughter.”
“If you had just remained faithful, all this wouldn’t be happening! There’d be no need for a divorce and our daughters will not be suffering so much. It is your fault! I hate you!”
And with that, the tears came- in barrages.
Joe was a loss on what to do. He rarely saw her lose her cool, it was one thing he’d always liked about her; the way she composed herself at all times no matter the pressure she was under. And yet, he’d come to loathe that insane composure later in their marriage…times when he needed her to show emotion, she was rigid and tough.
And now, she’d collapsed in front of him. For once, she’d slipped and let her weakness show and he had absolutely no idea what to do. The sight of her in tears was a new one for him.
He stood up gingerly and joined her on the couch. She’d buried her face in her hands and her shoulders shook as she cried.

Because he didn’t know what to say, he just put his arms around her and was surprised when she crumpled against him.
He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but it felt so good to have her in his arms again after such a long time, even though it wasn’t in the best of circumstances.
And then something happened. He didn’t know it until she raised her head and looked at him. Through the tears, he could see a wry smile on her face.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, bewildered.
“Men will always be men.” She said, looking at him.
His eyes followed hers, when he saw what she was looking at; he went blue with embarrassment.
Down there, little Johnny had decided to rear its head. He had a full blown erection.

(To be continued…)

The Sword called Divorce (episode 8)

Izie stared at the small form standing in her doorway and the memories came rushing back. The cosy moments she’d spent with Marie while they took shopping trips together, their intimate talks that spread over long hours.
Oh how she loved this girl!
“May I come in?” Marie asked, after they’d gaped at each other for a while.
Izie stood aside and let her pass.
“I just want to know why.” Marie said, without hesitating.
They were standing in Izie’s small parlour, the atmosphere in the room was tense.
“I’m sorry Marie. That’s all I can say.” How could she explain to a fourteen year old the singular act that had taken place between her and her father?
How could she tell her that none of it was planned? That it had all been like a movie she was watching from a screen?
It had all started innocently. Izie had fallen in love with Mrs Babalola from the moment she’d taken her under her wings. A childlike fascination with a woman so benevolent; her kindness had drawn Izie in…even as she resisted, she found herself liking Nike more and more. It hadn’t been difficult to convert the moment Mrs Babalola preached to her; it wasn’t so much her words as her acts of kindness.
As soon as Izie saw she couldn’t escape the Babalolas; she’d allowed herself to be accepted as one of the family. Because she had just been laid off her job, she was content to hang around their home, doing odd jobs for Mrs Babalola. That was how she got to start taking lunch to Mr Babalola at his office.
At first, all she did was drop it off and leave. Then she began to linger, she hung around the office because she had nowhere else to be. Then one day, Mr Babalola had an accounting issue and couldn’t seem to get the balance sheets right; she’d volunteered to help and bam…she’d done it in less than ten minutes.
Everyone at the office was surprised and impressed. That was when Mr Babalola came to discover her love for accounting and her uncanny ability to solve complex equations in less than ten minutes.
She no longer dropped his lunch and left…she began hanging around and doing the company’s account. One day when she was done, Mr Babalola offered to buy her lunch as a way of saying thank you.
“No need for that, sir.” She declined shyly, feeling elated with the compliments. “I’m always glad to help.”
“Don’t tell me that.” He’d rebuked sharply. “People are being paid for such things. In fact I will make arrangements to get you a job. For now, let me treat you to a great meal. You’ve been a lifesaver.”
            She agreed eventually. It was harmless; the husband of her benefactor taking her out to a thank you lunch.
Only, it didn’t stop there…they had lunch the next day and the next and the next, she found that she enjoyed talking to him. He’d always been someone abstract to her, someone she should never think of talking to…but now, it was different. They engaged in intelligent discussions, talked about equations. He complimented her, saying things like..
“You’re very intelligent. How come no one gave you a job?”
They talked about nothing personal, it was always work. Accounting. Her passion. A few weeks later he got her a job as his accountant.

It had been once when she’d slipped. That day, she’d been doing some accounting as usual, in Mr Babalola’s office when her sister had called her and told her about the deteriorating state of their father’s health. She’d been so distraught after the call that she’d broken down in tears.
It had been an awkward moment for them both when Mr Babalola had pulled her into a comforting embrace. But it had helped. She’d felt cared for, away from the troubles of her world.
The truth was the thoughts of sleeping with him had never crossed her mind until the moment he’d kissed her inside her room.
The day had been like any other. By then she’d been working steadily for his company for two months. Her salary was impressive for a new staff and she had a feeling Mr Babalola had pushed some buttons.
That evening had been a sort of going away party for Mr Njokwu, one of their dedicated employees. The office had thrown him a small party and everyone had been in a merry mood. It was already 6pm when they all decided to pack up and go home.
Mr Babalola offered to drive her home. She hadn’t bothered refusing because she was now a bit used to his spontaneous acts of kindness and because she was also tired. Even then, Izie had no bad thoughts.
Not until the moment he was kissing her. That was when she admitted to herself what a good kisser he was.   It was like they’d both been possessed by something that night because she couldn’t seem to recall how the atmosphere had changed suddenly from friendly to romantic.
One minute he was saying good bye to her at her door and the next they were suckling each other’s lips.
Whether the experience was pleasurable or not, Izie had never sat down to think about it. The moment they’d dropped to the bed in exhaustion, they both knew they’d made a terrible mistake.
She had suddenly been awash with guilt and shame. Without a word, she’d fled to the bathroom and locked herself in, ensconcing herself in her shame.
She did not come out until an hour later when she was sure he had left. Only he hadn’t.
He was sitting on the only chair in the room, fully dressed his head buried in his hands.
“I’m sorry.” He said, the moment he saw her. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. It was a big mistake.”
She was trembling, her eyes red from crying. “We’ve sinned. I feel so guilty.”
“Izie, no. We can ask God for forgiveness. He will forgive us. We didn’t plan it.” He’d frantically tried to assure her.
“I feel so terrible. How could I do this to Ma? Oh…she’s been so kind to me! What will happen now?” She looked so small and scared.
“She doesn’t have to know, Izie. This is between us and God. We can pray now, if you want. Let’s go on our knees and pray if it’ll make you feel better.” He suggested.
She shook her head vehemently. “I can’t pray now. I’m so sinful, dirty, and guilty. Like the adulterous woman in the Bible. Please just go…I can’t talk to you anymore. Please just go…I need to be alone.”
And he’d left with so many unsaid words between them.
She’d avoided the Babalolas for two weeks while she wallowed in guilt and self-remorse. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she’d rushed to the church and confessed to Pastor.
She hadn’t thought the consequences through. Maybe if she had, she would have borne her sins alone and wiped away the memory of that night. And when she thought of that alternative, she wondered if she would have been able to stand in the presence of Mrs Babalola and pretend nothing had happened.
Still, with that singular act…she’d rudely torn a family she’d loved apart.

She dragged her eyes away from the spot on the wall where she’d fixed her eyes while telling Marie the story. There was a film of tears in her eyes as she finished her story.
“I’m so sorry Marie. I don’t know how to make it up to you.” She said, sniffling.
“I should hate you.” Marie whispered. “I should leave this place now.”
“I know. You have every right to hate me. What I did is unforgiveable.”
“Yes.” Marie said, stolid. 
“So what happens now?” Izie asked. She was at the mercy of this girl she loved so much.

(To be continued….)
                                                                    

The Sword Called Divorce (Episode 7)

When it was 7pm and Marie wasn’t back in the house, her parents began to worry. She’d stormed out during breakfast and hadn’t returned since then.
Nike was getting worried but didn’t voice it out as she went for her women’s meeting that evening. Maybe Marie had gone to the church and decided to stay there.
She harboured that thought as she drove to the church premises for the meeting. The truth is, that day had been very hard for her. Marie’s words that morning had sliced through her and sent a chill down her spine.
Her daughter was only fourteen, how could she wish she’d never been born? Was she hurting that much?
As Nike parked her car, she leaned against the steering…and let the tears fall. It was too much for her. The jumbled feelings and the tension in her home had gotten to her.
Oh Lord, help me. She sobbed. I’m trying so hard to be strong.

She was still sniffling when there was a soft knock on her window. Nike looked up, it was Bro. Nelson, one of the church ushers.
Nike scrambled for her handkerchief and wiped her face;  removing all traces of tears.
Then she opened the door and stepped out with a plastic smile on her face and her glasses shielding her eyes.
“Hello, Bro. Nelson.” She greeted airily.
“Good evening ma. We saw your car arrive and when you didn’t come in, Pastor  asked me to check you.”  He explained.
“Oh. I was…uh…having a little eye trouble. I forgot to use my eye drops.” The lie came smoothly. “Er…did you by any chance see my daughter Marie here?”
“Uh…I don’t think so ma. The children are having rehearsals but she didn’t show up today.”
She nodded and they both walked into the church building.
Nike pulled herself together as she walked in, now was no time for weakness. She had a group of fifty women to attend to and needed to be strong for them. She’d deal with her family issues later.

While her parents worried about her, Marie was in her best friend Amina’s house. When she’d run out of the house in the morning, she’d no idea where she was going and she also had limited money on her. So, she’d just kept walking and walking, trying to let her anger at her family subside.
She was fourteen today. She was supposed to be ecstatic and over the moon…instead she felt like a deflated balloon, one whose air had just been taken out of her.
Truth was, she missed her family. She missed the love and togetherness they shared. She missed listening to her parents’ tease each other…she missed listening to her daddy’s bad jokes.
She missed being able to talk to her Mummy about anything…only two weeks ago, she’d seen her first period. She’d so much wanted to tell her Mummy, but the huge gap between them wouldn’t let her.
Instead, she’d borne it quietly and told Amina. It was Amina who’d given her the pads she used to take care of herself.
She’d known what to do because Sister Izie had taught her how to use a pad a few months ago. Sister Izie…oh how she missed her!
They’d formed a bond which was amazing. Marie had grown to love Sister Izie like her big sister. They talked about anything and everything, Marie had been very comfortable with her.
Why? Why did she betray her family like that?
So many questions Marie wanted to ask.
“Stop thinking about it.” Amina had said over and over again.
“Easy for you to say.” Marie retorted.
They were in Amina’s room, lying on her bed and talking. The time was 6pm and Marie knew she should be on her way home but she couldn’t seem to find the urge to go home.
“Mr Bambi said he’s giving a test on Tuesday.” Amina’s attempt at changing the subject.
Marie shrugged. “Whatever.”
Amina gave a frustrated sigh. Her friend’s mood was depressing.
“Let’s go out! It’s your birthday! I’ll tell Daddy to let Sambo drive us to Silverbird! We’ll get ice cream and snacks…and see a movie.”
Amina’s father was a wealthy business tycoon who pampered his children…and Sambo was the driver who Amina was allowed to use whenever she wanted.

“I’m really not in the mood.” Marie said.
“Ahn ahn…then what are you in the mood for? You’re so annoying right now.” Amina climbed down from the bed angrily. “I’m trying hard here to make you happy. Come on!”
Marie sighed. I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”
“No, no. I didn’t say you should leave.”
“I want to. I’m spoiling your mood. I need to go home anyway.”
Even as Marie left Amina’s house she knew she wasn’t ready to go home. Not yet.
She had only five hundred naira on her and she needed to go somewhere. Somewhere she could get answers.
She walked to the bus stop and got on a bus. Although it was almost 7pm, she wasn’t scared, she was used to Abuja. She’d grown up there all her life.
As the bus neared her destination, she felt the fear pounding in her heart. She was going where she shouldn’t be. She was going to confront the cancer that had eaten into her home.

The bus ride took little over thirty minutes and soon she was at her destination.
Her legs shook as she strolled into the street. As she knocked on the door, she felt a shiver go through her.
The door opened and she said with all the hardness she could muster: “Good evening Sister Izie.”

(To be continued…)

The Sword Called Divorce (Episode 7)

When it was 7pm and Marie wasn’t back in the house, her parents began to worry. She’d stormed out during breakfast and hadn’t returned since then.
Nike was getting worried but didn’t voice it out as she went for her women’s meeting that evening. Maybe Marie had gone to the church and decided to stay there.
She harboured that thought as she drove to the church premises for the meeting. The truth is, that day had been very hard for her. Marie’s words that morning had sliced through her and sent a chill down her spine.
Her daughter was only fourteen, how could she wish she’d never been born? Was she hurting that much?
As Nike parked her car, she leaned against the steering…and let the tears fall. It was too much for her. The jumbled feelings and the tension in her home had gotten to her.
Oh Lord, help me. She sobbed. I’m trying so hard to be strong.

She was still sniffling when there was a soft knock on her window. Nike looked up, it was Bro. Nelson, one of the church ushers.
Nike scrambled for her handkerchief and wiped her face;  removing all traces of tears.
Then she opened the door and stepped out with a plastic smile on her face and her glasses shielding her eyes.
“Hello, Bro. Nelson.” She greeted airily.
“Good evening ma. We saw your car arrive and when you didn’t come in, Pastor  asked me to check you.”  He explained.
“Oh. I was…uh…having a little eye trouble. I forgot to use my eye drops.” The lie came smoothly. “Er…did you by any chance see my daughter Marie here?”
“Uh…I don’t think so ma. The children are having rehearsals but she didn’t show up today.”
She nodded and they both walked into the church building.
Nike pulled herself together as she walked in, now was no time for weakness. She had a group of fifty women to attend to and needed to be strong for them. She’d deal with her family issues later.

While her parents worried about her, Marie was in her best friend Amina’s house. When she’d run out of the house in the morning, she’d no idea where she was going and she also had limited money on her. So, she’d just kept walking and walking, trying to let her anger at her family subside.
She was fourteen today. She was supposed to be ecstatic and over the moon…instead she felt like a deflated balloon, one whose air had just been taken out of her.
Truth was, she missed her family. She missed the love and togetherness they shared. She missed listening to her parents’ tease each other…she missed listening to her daddy’s bad jokes.
She missed being able to talk to her Mummy about anything…only two weeks ago, she’d seen her first period. She’d so much wanted to tell her Mummy, but the huge gap between them wouldn’t let her.
Instead, she’d borne it quietly and told Amina. It was Amina who’d given her the pads she used to take care of herself.
She’d known what to do because Sister Izie had taught her how to use a pad a few months ago. Sister Izie…oh how she missed her!
They’d formed a bond which was amazing. Marie had grown to love Sister Izie like her big sister. They talked about anything and everything, Marie had been very comfortable with her.
Why? Why did she betray her family like that?
So many questions Marie wanted to ask.
“Stop thinking about it.” Amina had said over and over again.
“Easy for you to say.” Marie retorted.
They were in Amina’s room, lying on her bed and talking. The time was 6pm and Marie knew she should be on her way home but she couldn’t seem to find the urge to go home.
“Mr Bambi said he’s giving a test on Tuesday.” Amina’s attempt at changing the subject.
Marie shrugged. “Whatever.”
Amina gave a frustrated sigh. Her friend’s mood was depressing.
“Let’s go out! It’s your birthday! I’ll tell Daddy to let Sambo drive us to Silverbird! We’ll get ice cream and snacks…and see a movie.”
Amina’s father was a wealthy business tycoon who pampered his children…and Sambo was the driver who Amina was allowed to use whenever she wanted.

“I’m really not in the mood.” Marie said.
“Ahn ahn…then what are you in the mood for? You’re so annoying right now.” Amina climbed down from the bed angrily. “I’m trying hard here to make you happy. Come on!”
Marie sighed. I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”
“No, no. I didn’t say you should leave.”
“I want to. I’m spoiling your mood. I need to go home anyway.”
Even as Marie left Amina’s house she knew she wasn’t ready to go home. Not yet.
She had only five hundred naira on her and she needed to go somewhere. Somewhere she could get answers.
She walked to the bus stop and got on a bus. Although it was almost 7pm, she wasn’t scared, she was used to Abuja. She’d grown up there all her life.
As the bus neared her destination, she felt the fear pounding in her heart. She was going where she shouldn’t be. She was going to confront the cancer that had eaten into her home.

The bus ride took little over thirty minutes and soon she was at her destination.
Her legs shook as she strolled into the street. As she knocked on the door, she felt a shiver go through her.
The door opened and she said with all the hardness she could muster: “Good evening Sister Izie.”

(To be continued…)

The Sword Called Divorce (Episode 7)

When it was 7pm and Marie wasn’t back in the house, her parents began to worry. She’d stormed out during breakfast and hadn’t returned since then.
Nike was getting worried but didn’t voice it out as she went for her women’s meeting that evening. Maybe Marie had gone to the church and decided to stay there.
She harboured that thought as she drove to the church premises for the meeting. The truth is, that day had been very hard for her. Marie’s words that morning had sliced through her and sent a chill down her spine.
Her daughter was only fourteen, how could she wish she’d never been born? Was she hurting that much?
As Nike parked her car, she leaned against the steering…and let the tears fall. It was too much for her. The jumbled feelings and the tension in her home had gotten to her.
Oh Lord, help me. She sobbed. I’m trying so hard to be strong.

She was still sniffling when there was a soft knock on her window. Nike looked up, it was Bro. Nelson, one of the church ushers.
Nike scrambled for her handkerchief and wiped her face;  removing all traces of tears.
Then she opened the door and stepped out with a plastic smile on her face and her glasses shielding her eyes.
“Hello, Bro. Nelson.” She greeted airily.
“Good evening ma. We saw your car arrive and when you didn’t come in, Pastor  asked me to check you.”  He explained.
“Oh. I was…uh…having a little eye trouble. I forgot to use my eye drops.” The lie came smoothly. “Er…did you by any chance see my daughter Marie here?”
“Uh…I don’t think so ma. The children are having rehearsals but she didn’t show up today.”
She nodded and they both walked into the church building.
Nike pulled herself together as she walked in, now was no time for weakness. She had a group of fifty women to attend to and needed to be strong for them. She’d deal with her family issues later.

While her parents worried about her, Marie was in her best friend Amina’s house. When she’d run out of the house in the morning, she’d no idea where she was going and she also had limited money on her. So, she’d just kept walking and walking, trying to let her anger at her family subside.
She was fourteen today. She was supposed to be ecstatic and over the moon…instead she felt like a deflated balloon, one whose air had just been taken out of her.
Truth was, she missed her family. She missed the love and togetherness they shared. She missed listening to her parents’ tease each other…she missed listening to her daddy’s bad jokes.
She missed being able to talk to her Mummy about anything…only two weeks ago, she’d seen her first period. She’d so much wanted to tell her Mummy, but the huge gap between them wouldn’t let her.
Instead, she’d borne it quietly and told Amina. It was Amina who’d given her the pads she used to take care of herself.
She’d known what to do because Sister Izie had taught her how to use a pad a few months ago. Sister Izie…oh how she missed her!
They’d formed a bond which was amazing. Marie had grown to love Sister Izie like her big sister. They talked about anything and everything, Marie had been very comfortable with her.
Why? Why did she betray her family like that?
So many questions Marie wanted to ask.
“Stop thinking about it.” Amina had said over and over again.
“Easy for you to say.” Marie retorted.
They were in Amina’s room, lying on her bed and talking. The time was 6pm and Marie knew she should be on her way home but she couldn’t seem to find the urge to go home.
“Mr Bambi said he’s giving a test on Tuesday.” Amina’s attempt at changing the subject.
Marie shrugged. “Whatever.”
Amina gave a frustrated sigh. Her friend’s mood was depressing.
“Let’s go out! It’s your birthday! I’ll tell Daddy to let Sambo drive us to Silverbird! We’ll get ice cream and snacks…and see a movie.”
Amina’s father was a wealthy business tycoon who pampered his children…and Sambo was the driver who Amina was allowed to use whenever she wanted.

“I’m really not in the mood.” Marie said.
“Ahn ahn…then what are you in the mood for? You’re so annoying right now.” Amina climbed down from the bed angrily. “I’m trying hard here to make you happy. Come on!”
Marie sighed. I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”
“No, no. I didn’t say you should leave.”
“I want to. I’m spoiling your mood. I need to go home anyway.”
Even as Marie left Amina’s house she knew she wasn’t ready to go home. Not yet.
She had only five hundred naira on her and she needed to go somewhere. Somewhere she could get answers.
She walked to the bus stop and got on a bus. Although it was almost 7pm, she wasn’t scared, she was used to Abuja. She’d grown up there all her life.
As the bus neared her destination, she felt the fear pounding in her heart. She was going where she shouldn’t be. She was going to confront the cancer that had eaten into her home.

The bus ride took little over thirty minutes and soon she was at her destination.
Her legs shook as she strolled into the street. As she knocked on the door, she felt a shiver go through her.
The door opened and she said with all the hardness she could muster: “Good evening Sister Izie.”

(To be continued…)

The Sword Called Divorce (Episode 6)

                 

She was grinning now, the sight of her teeth made a gruesome sight. There was nothing beautiful about her now.
Joe stood frozen to the spot. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Come to me.” She beckoned to him.
Her eyes were mesmerizing, two glinting stones in the darkness. Joe wanted to be anywhere but here.
“Come.” She said again, and lunged for him.
It was his scream that woke him up.

He was drenched in sweat. He was glad he was alone in the guest room.
The nightmare had been so real.
Yet it wasn’t the first.
He’d had the same nightmare twice since the affair with Izie had been made public. He seemed to be stuck in that moment when he’d discovered that Izie had confessed to Pastor.
To him, that was the moment that his life had fallen apart. Not the moment when he’d followed Izie to her house, or the moment when it had dawned on him that he was going to sleep with her.
None had caused him as much guilt as the moment of truth when Nike had found out.
He sighed as he pulled off his wet singlet and lay down again. He was so lonely. Nike had pushed him to the guest room a month ago, the moment she found out about the affair.
She’d claimed she couldn’t bear to look at him or even spend the night in the same bed with him. His sin was that big to her. She claimed.
As Joe lay there, he let his thoughts drift to that moment with Izie. It had been brief…the sex. But the six months he’d known her had been marvellous.
Even when he wasn’t close to her, he’d seen something different about her - that thing that had attracted Nike to her. It wasn’t her seeming helplessness…or her good looks.
It was that same thing that prevented Joe from having any sexual thoughts about her after their ‘mistake.’ It had been a onetime thing and he regretted it. He’d taken advantage of a young girl…someone who was just finding her way in her new faith.
He wished Nike could understand that he was sorry he’d ever slept with Izie. He wished for so many things. That his wife wasn’t divorcing him, that he could look his daughters in the face without feeling guilty.
But someone had once said if wishes were horses…

It was 3am when Joe managed to go back to sleep. And he didn’t get up till 9am when there was a knock on the door.
“Come in.”
It was his wife.
“Good morning.” She said, stiffly. “We need to talk.”
He sighed. He knew he was in for a rough morning. They’d barely spoken for the past month.
She sat on the bed, leaving a gaping space between them.
“Your daughter knows about Izie.” She said simply.
Joe sat up as though he’d been stung. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. And I didn’t tell her. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Then how…”
“She came home early and heard Izie and I talking.”
“Wait. Izie was here?”
“Yes. She came to plead on your behalf.”
“Oh.” He didn’t know what else to say.
“Well…I just thought you should know. So, you’d know what to say to her. I’m the enemy to her, now.”
He wanted to ask if they were still doing the right thing. Ask for another chance…but he knew it was useless.
“Okay. I’ll talk to her.”
“And Joe…please warm her up to the idea of…the divorce.” She hesitated. “Remember it’s her birthday today.” With that she stood and left him.

Marie! Oh God! Why!

If there was anything he cherished above his marriage, it was his daughters and the knowledge that he would rarely see them in the nearest future was tearing him apart.
Bella was his bundle of joy; the one who made him laugh, Marie was his pride. Strong willed and smart, she was also meek and kind. He knew how much they’d adored Izie.
He’d forgotten Marie’s birthday. His little girl was growing fast. Fourteen years so soon.
At breakfast that day, Joe led a happy birthday song for Marie; although it was only Bella and Nike who ended up singing along.
“Honey, let’s see a smile.” Joe urged with as much gusto as he could muster.
“Smile!” Bella repeated.
“Maybe this would make you smile.” Joe went on. “Since today is your day; your wish is my command. Pick a place you’d like me to treat you to. Just me and you.”
Marie had been silent all this while, picking at her food. The last thing on her mind was a birthday celebration.
“Baby girl…daddy’s waiting.” Joe prompted, his smile slipping.
“Marie…daddy is waiting.” Bella repeated.
“What are we celebrating? I don’t need a stupid birthday treat.” She said, coldly. “Stop pretending everything is fine when it’s not. I hate you both. I hate my life and I regret knowing you!” She hauled her spoon at the wall.
There was silence at the table as they all stared at her. Nike bristled while Joe felt a pang of hurt wash over him.
“It’s a bad word Marie. Don’t say a bad word.” Bella spoke several seconds later.
“You wanna know my birthday wish?” She was on her feet now, shaking with rage. “That I’d never been born!”
With that she stormed out of the house, leaving a graveyard silence in her wake.
Joe was stunned. His daughter had changed tremendously. This wasn’t the girl he knew.
“Daddy.” Bella whimpered and opened her arms to him.
He pulled her into his arms and his eyes met with his wife’s. He could see his pain mirrored in her eyes.
“Nike…don’t do this please.” He said quietly. “Can’t you see what it’s doing to us? We’re losing much more than we bargained for. We’re losing our daughter.”
His wife was silent, staring into space.


              (To be continued…)

The Sword Called Divorce (Episode 5)

His first instinct was to pretend he didn’t see her. He was tempted to change his mind about the suya and drive away. He already had enough trouble in his life and he didn’t need more.

His appetite for suya won over common sense and he found himself exiting the car and making his way to the suya stand. He walked without looking right or left, hoping that Izie would not look up and see him.
He was lucky. He bought the suya and just as he paid for it and was about to leave, he heard her call:
“Sir! Sir!”
Her voice was too loud to  ignore and he knew it was no use. He’d been caught.
He turned slowly with a fake smile on his face. She was still sitting on the bench close to the suya stand, only this time her face was illuminated by the light.

“Oh, Izie. I didn’t see you.” He lied, smiling thinly.
“I’m sorry sir. I know I’m the last person you want to see…” she began.
“Wait a minute.” Joe strolled towards her, not wanting to raise his voice. “Were you expecting me to come here? You were waiting for me?”
“No, no. I wasn’t. I just…I was passing by…I…” Without warning she burst into tears.
Joe stood looking at her; unsure what to do. He’d learned the hard way what comforting a crying woman could do. When he saw that she was still sobbing and he couldn’t keep standing there; he decided to sit.
Whatever compassion he had for her had melted the day he’d been summoned to the church office by their resident pastor, Pastor Briggs.
He’d walked into the office to see Izie sitting quietly in a corner, looking forlorn. By then, it had been a month since they had their affair and no one knew about it…or so he thought.
A little fear had leapt up in his heart when he saw Izie with Pastor. What had she done?

“Brother  Joe.” Pastor had begun in a grave voice.
“Yes sir.”
“You know the church appreciates the contributions you and your wife have made here…we are very happy to have people like you giving to the work of God.”
“Yes Pastor. It’s a pleasure. We love giving to God’s work. But you didn’t call me here to  talk about our donations to the church…or did you?”
Pastor Briggs cleared his throat. “You know Sis. Izie?”
Joe barely glanced at her. There was no need to stare his sin in the face. “Yes. She’s my wife’s convert.”
“Only that, Bro. Joe?” Pastor Briggs looked like he’d swallowed something bitter.
“I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Pastor.”
“Izie, please tell him what you told me.”
She sniffled. “Pastor, it’s not his fault, It’s the devil’s handwork.”
“Don’t give the devil a crime he didn’t commit, Izie. Tell him what you told me. Simple,”
“We… we…committed sin together.” She was obviously finding it difficult to speak.
Joe wished at that point, that the ground could pen up and swallow him. She’d reported to Pastor?! What kind of moron was this girl?!
Pastor Briggs sighed and turned Joe. “I think we understand what Sister Izie is trying to say but I’d like to hear your side of the story. I called you here because I respect you as a member of this church so if you have anything to say regarding what Izie has said then please let me know.”
Joe exhaled. “There’s no point denying it Pastor. It was a mistake that happened once. It never happened again. I’ve asked God to forgive me.”
“And your wife? Does she know about it?”
Joe’s eyes narrowed. “I think it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie. I have learned my lesson and I’m sure Izie has learned hers too.”
` “Well Bro. Joe, I do not doubt that you’ve settled with God. But there’s a need to confess to the party who you betrayed. The woman you made a vow to- your wife. She needs to know and until then, you will not be completely free of this.”
“Are you saying God has not forgiven me, Pastor?” Joe asked, trying to tamp down his rising temper.
“That’s between you and God. The question is;  are you sorry you did it or sorry you got caught?” Pastor Briggs wasn’t mincing words.
“Point of correction Pastor. I didn’t get caught. She…” He hesitated, not sure what he’d been about to say next. “Did she tell you she seduced me? Or did she come with a plausible sob story?”
“It was the devil’s hand work, sir. I swear. I am now a born again child of God. I couldn’t sleep in peace after it happened. I had to confess to clear my conscience.” Izie was addressing Joe who was looking at her with disdain. “Ma has been so good to me. I didn’t want her to find out.”
“Well, thanks to your conscience, she just did.” Joe said sharply. “Pastor, it seems there’s nothing I can do to change your mind about this. But my question is, won’t telling my wife do more harm than good?”
“Not if we tell her together. If we call her here and tell her. It won’t be easy but I’m sure she’d appreciate it more than being kept in the dark about it.”
Joe  shook his head. “Then you don’t know Nike. Please Pastor. Let me make this right. I will go back and re-confess to God. Beg for his forgiveness. But please, there’s no need to hurt Nike with my stupidity.”
Yes  Pastor. He’s right. Please I didn’t come here intending to break a home. I don’t  want Ma to be angry with me…or sir.” Izie added.
Pastor had insisted the right thing be done. What was the right thing in this case?

It was when the streetlight went off abruptly that Joe was jerked out of his reverie. He looked around; the next streetlight was up ahead.
Immediately he realised that Izie had her head resting on his shoulder. How it had gotten there, he had no idea. He pulled away sharply like he’d been stung.
“I have to go Izie. Sorry about your troubles.” He mumbled.
“Do I scare you?” She asked.
It wasn’t the question that caught Joe off  guard…it was the voice that spoke. It was no longer Izie’s. At least it didn’t sound like her.
“What did you say, Izie?” he asked, just to be sure he heard right.
“You heard me. Are you afraid of me?” Now, she threw her head back and looked up.
There was something different about her face. Something sinister and evil.
Then it struck him. It was her eyes. They were literally glowing in the darkness. They’d taken up a golden hue.
This wasn’t the Izie he knew, not the woman he’d been talking to a few minutes ago.
“Izie?” he called again, bewildered. It seemed the rest of the world around them had faded away. The suya man, his stand and his customers seemed in a world different from theirs.
“Why do you keep calling me that? You know I’m not Izie.” The golden-eyed woman said.
“You’re crazy. You’re Izie. What is wrong with you?” He was panicking now, unable to compute what he was seeing. How could he be looking at a woman who was and wasn’t Izie?

(To be continued…)

The Sword called Divorce (Episode 4)

                                              

“You need to stop eavesdropping, Marie.” Nike side stepped the question. “It’s a bad habit. If we wanted you to hear, we’d have invited you to join our discussion.”

                “And you need to leave me alone.” Marie’s voice was hard as she spoke. “Everyone in this world is a disappointment. All of you.”

                Nike’s first instinct was to give her daughter a good thrashing and teach her who was boss. But then again; she knew her daughter was going through a lot which she wouldn’t pretend to understand, because she’d after all never had to go through a divorce before. Her parents had stayed married till her mother died.

                Suddenly Nike felt helpless. She knew she was losing her daughter and she didn’t know what to do about it.

                “I want to help, Marie. Please don’t hurt me anymore than I’m hurting. Can’t you see I’m trying? I love you but please don’t stretch me to my limit.”

                “Where’s daddy?”

                “You know where he is. At work.”

                “He comes home later than usual these days.” Marie was now sitting up, staring daggers at her mother. “Did you tell him to?”

                Nike didn’t know what came over her at that moment. Maybe she was tired of playing devil’s advocate or being seen as the enemy or maybe it was the pressure of seeing Izie again and the pent up feelings she’d been holding back, but suddenly she didn’t care. She screamed:

                “Your father cheated on me! He had an affair with Izie, don’t you understand?!! How can you still take his side when you know all this?!! He broke our marriage vows; he betrayed you and Bella and me! For God’s sake Marie, the divorce is going to happen, so you might as well accept it now and begin to deal with it! This family is over!! You hear me? Over! Now, get off that bed and take off your uniform, we’re going to the market.”

                As soon as the words left her mouth, Nike regretted it. But she was still boiling with anger that she didn’t bother to explain herself. She marched out of the room, trembling.

               

                This time the tears didn’t come. For Mari;  it was just dawning on her that there was no hope for her family. Her mother’s words had proven that.

                Over. It’s over. The Babalolas were no more. The words echoed  in her head for the rest of that day.

                If the relationship between her and her mother had been strained before; now it was worse. They barely spoke to each other and this time it was the way they both wanted it.

                Nike couldn’t talk to her daughter because she was still ashamed of the words she’d said to her that day and each time she opened her mouth to try to connect with Marie again, the accusing look in her eyes was enough to put her off.

                Marie, on the other hand was still smarting from her mother’s outburst and each time she glanced at her, she saw the guilt written plainly on her face.

                Joe Babalola had escaped the strain in his home by going to work every day and being the last to report to bed. He couldn’t bear the thought of what his family had become.

                Every time he thought of the Izie saga; he went red with shame. How had it all started? When had Izie stopped being merely his wife’s pet and become a woman to him? When had the cordial relationship which existed between them suddenly transformed into something romantic?

                When had he suddenly decided to exchange his fifteen year marriage with one night of pleasure with a lady ten years younger?

                And each time he asked himself these questions, he knew the answer. The Bible had made it clear: As a man thinks in his heart; so is he.

                It had begun with the several lunches. Nike had asked Izie to help take lunch to him at the office every day. It was a small thing which Izie was glad to do. She’d been unemployed then and eager to work, so she’d agreed to run the errands for Nike.

                Her gestures had been pure and innocent, Joe was sure of that. So when had it changed?

                Was it the moment they’d shared that brief hug in his office when she’d been so sad and worried about her family? Had he, in his bid to comfort her, overstepped his bounds?

                As he drove home that night, Joe kept searching himself…did he deserve Nike’s forgiveness?   

                And just as he pulled over on the curb to buy suya, his eyes fell on a familiar form that was sitting on the park bench; her form illuminated by the streetlight above her. 

                Even though he’d known her for only six months; Joe would know that body anywhere.

                It was Izie.          

                                (To be continued…)