I have no proprietary rights to this photo. Unknown source
My life fell back into place except that
my palette kept craving the exquisite meals from Nri- that’s the name of the
restaurant where I met him- and my mind kept replaying jokes and witty banters
from that evening. It’s been over a month and I have succeeded in not being
able to forget Amanze- contrary to my plans. I am grateful for my ego that has
prevented me from walking into that restaurant and making a big fool of myself.
I also thank common sense for not letting me ask for his phone number that day.
I have tried to push that meeting out of my mind and life like I promised
myself I would but each time I pass that building on my way to work, I can’t
help looking up to the window where I last saw him. Of course, he has more
important things to do than stand all day waiting for me to pass by. Only
idiots like me- married idiots- go around looking up at windows to find
non-existent people. The strangest thing however, is that that vase never left
the window sill and it always had different flowers in it. Like I said before,
that man was too smooth for his own good. Anyways, I knew better than to come
any closer than I already was. Besides, my husband came home about four days
after I met Amanze.
Truthfully, I was glad to have him home.
Amidst all my complaints and heartache, I must have forgotten to mention that I
love my husband. I am not sure about being in love with him but I do not believe
that love is just a feeling. I chose to love him so I do. He certainly doesn’t
awaken my butterflies but he holds the keys to some of my best memories and of
course, I made four amazing humans with him. That means something in my books.
So he came home after months of being away for God knows what. At first, I was
glad that he was alright but each time I remembered what he put me through
during his absence, I grew mad at him. The striking thing is that when he was
absent, I was fine. I was numb, remember? I didn’t care enough to be mad. I
channeled all I had into being a mum, making good money, indulging my taste
buds and just being another woman trying to remember what happiness feels like
without allowing pain anywhere near her. I hadn’t even realized that there was
anything to be mad at until another man reminded me of what it feels like to be
noticed, indulged, taken care of and perhaps wanted. I didn’t care to feel all
these things if I was not going to be allowed to have them. And that was
maddening. Howbeit, I kept my cool. I have always been good at that. I took
care of him and made sure he got to spend some time with the kids. Two years
ago, we had a huge fight in which I clearly stated that I could tolerate being
ignored but wouldn’t if thought he could do the same to my kids. I even
threatened to give him a divorce and take full custody of my kids if he kept
neglecting their paternal needs. By the time he got calls from two of my
lawyers within three days, he knew that I wasn’t to be messed with on that
matter. Needless to say, he made extra efforts when it came to the kids. He
would always check his time when he was playing video games with the boy or
excuse himself to take short phone calls when he was playing chess or monopoly
with the girls but it was obvious he spent a great deal of himself trying to
keep it up. If my kids were okay, then I would stay. We spent lesser time
together; I guess he gave the kids what extra time he might have had for me but
I was too frozen to be bothered.
This time around, I could feel myself
creating more distance between him and myself. Usually, I’d put up a front and
try to be all over him but I put in no effort this time. He probably sensed it
and his play boy instincts were aroused. You know that primal trait that draws
men to things that appeared inaccessible, that was probably it because I can’t
think of any other reason why he came home one evening bearing a box of my
favorite chocolate, midnight blue lace lingerie by Victoria secret and a pair
of red bottom Loubs. The day before I was making my afro into two-strand twists
in preparation for bedtime when he called me “Ima”. That’s the word for ‘love’
in Ibibio, our native dialect. He had just walked into our bedroom after
spending some time with the kids. Eno, Nsikak and Aniekan had come home from
boarding school for the weekend. Eno and
Kaka (Nsikak) are the boys and are older than Nini (Aniekan) and Didi
(Edidiong) who’s the baby of the house. She’s just seven and she keeps me
company and busy when the rest of the family are away. They couldn’t imagine not
being able to see their day on his first visit in five months. Eddy had gotten
them loads of stuff; books, games, clothing etc and they were elated. Yes, Eddy
is my husband’s name. Actually, it’s Edikan but his friends and colleagues call
him Edikan. I used to call him baby until it started to sound foreign and odd
on my tongue. So I just joined others in calling him Eddy. Right! So he walked
into the room and said “Ima, …” Frankly, I didn’t hear the rest of it because I
burst into laughter. I found it absolutely amusing that a man would be away for
five months, call weekly or even bi-weekly, doesn’t text, hasn’t called me
anything but Edima in two years, hasn’t touched me in almost a year would
return and suddenly call me his love after I’ve decided not to care about any
of the above. He stood there gaping at me while I continued twisting my hair
still amused. He must have been embarrassed because he walked into the bathroom
where he stayed until I finished my twists and went to Didi’s room to read her
Bible stories, as is our tradition.
That next day, I was literally astonished. All the signs
were in place; my mouth was hanging wide open, my eyes were almost popping out
of their sockets and Most of all, I was dumbfounded as I stared at Eddy holding
out his presents to me. I certainly knew what to do with chocolate and
Christian Louboutin shoes but what did this Mr. expect that I’d so with the
oh-so-beautiful lace lingerie? Who told him that we still have that kind of
chemistry? I must have been thinking for myself because he came unto me
muttering under his breath about how he knew he must have hurt me all this
years. I was quite disgusted. I picked up the box of chocolate, said “thanks”
and headed for the door. Just before I left the room, I couldn’t resist turning
back to mention how he didn’t hurt me because I didn’t give him the luxury of
doing so. He stood there visibly shocked; he had never seen me react in that
manner. He could feel the anger seething beneath the surface and the coldness
underlined it just like I hoped it would. A few hours and twenty-four
chocolates later, I returned to find him asleep after he had dropped a note on
my pillow. The note said he got a call the previous day and needed to go to
Ghana for three months for some mega project. He said he understood that I have
made great sacrifices for us and deserved better. He said he just wanted the
night to be special. After reading the note, all I could think was that he had
no idea whatsoever about what I had or had not sacrificed. I went into the bathroom,
washed my face and a few tear drops away and went to bed. I had imagined that
someday, something would cause me to start feeling again but I had envisaged it
would be him awakening the love and intimacy we shared, and I imagined it would
feel good. I never thought I’d ever be open to pain again. Nobody told me that
another man would crack the glass or that Eddy making advances at me would be
repulsive rather than endearing. Nobody told me that what looked like a gesture
that I had always prayed for in years past would feel like vomit thrown in my
face. I could feel the ice melting and all the rage and pain that were frozen
were frothing over the surface. The next morning, I decided to act as if
nothing happened the previous night. I chose to give him the treatment I had
always given him. I had always performed my duties in silence and without
warmth. I could give everything except warmth; I didn’t have it to give
anyways. I had run out of warmth almost five years before now. I helped him
pack all what he would need, got the kids to calm down and drove us all to the
airport. Just before he boarded, he gave the adults (that’s what we call the
ones in secondary school) some money, hugged them tight and whispered something
into Didi’s ears that made her stop crying. When he walked up to me, he was
about to say what I sensed would be mushy so I stopped him from going any
further. “You’re running late” I said and dusted the lapel of his jacket. I was
about to go for a hug when he lifted my chin and kissed me. It was a long,
bland kiss but I obliged him if that would leave me with some peace. He hadn’t
kissed me in almost a year, and it felt like the entire flavor had been lost
with time.
***********************************************
Hello darlings. I hope you love how the story is unfolding. Pt 4 is on its way.
Anyways, I traveled home and it feels great to be with family. they are simply everything.
P.S- My laptop fell and some parts cracked and a few places got chipped. Its a Lenovo S400 Touch ideapad. I need to know if it's possible and what it'd take to change the carcass/casing/exterior. Its urgent. Kindly help me out. This laptop is my prime possession. More than half of me is literally saved in it. I have literally shed tears...and I need to do something asap. Biko....
I hope you are all having a great week.
xoxo,
Nazzy
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