“What on earth could have happened?” I thought to myself.

Everything seemed to be going well, barely three short months ago when Jessica married her long-time boyfriend. They’d both struggled with addictive behavior for several years, but things took a turn for the better when Jessica had an encounter with God. Funny enough, she was in prison at the time; serving time for assault.

Seeing the changes in her, Jessica’s boyfriend also made a decision to have a relationship with God, through Jesus. Things were going well and they finally tied the knot three months ago.

Everything was perfect – or so I thought.

A few minutes ago, I had heard the office door slam shut, so I walked towards to front to say hello to Jessica. I was shocked by what I saw; standing by the desk was Jessica, with a split lip and swollen eyes.

There was no mistaking the signs.

I pulled away from her, held her at arm’s length.

“Did he hit you?” My voice was fierce with concern and something else.

In the background, a clock ticked loudly, counting off each second as time inexorably marched on.

Mute, she shook her head…wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Then, what happened to your face? Tell me the truth!” I knew that many victims of abuse suffer in silence, too scared or ashamed share their pain with anyone else. I was determined that my friend would have a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen.

Her voice was soft when she spoke. “We got into it last night, and kind of pushed each other around. I…I guess I busted my lip in the process.”

I wasn’t sure I believed her. Was she minimizing her husband’s actions in order to protect him, or to keep things from getting worse at home? I remembered a case I’d seen on television, where an abused woman’s colleague took regular pictures of her injuries and kept a meticulous log. The colleague’s records later proved invaluable in the prosecution of the woman’s husband.

Should I do the same thing or would that offend Jessica? I battled the indecision and finally decided not to take any pictures. However, I resolved within myself that I would definitely do so if I ever witnessed more bruises.

“Why don’t you go to the restroom and clean up? Apply some make-up or something, okay? You don’t want everybody asking you what’s wrong.”

She nodded, rummaged in her purse for some things and left the office.

Still reflective, I watched her leave. How did two people who seemed desperately in love come to this point? How did Jessica’s husband feel when he saw the bruises on her face? Was he remorseful or was he even now justifying his actions by telling himself that she provoked him? I wished I could get an insight to what was going on in his mind.

Somewhere inside me, I hoped that he was sorry – that the bruises on her face were an aberration that would never happen again.

I didn’t know how wrong I was.

***

Onyih Odunze

To be continued…

Maintain Friendships with Good People

Continued...

“Can I get an update on the Desai strip mall project?”

Chiaka looked up at the sound of Andrew’s voice. “Sure. I’m adjusting the forecasts and comparing them to our reference baselines. Give me a few minutes and I’ll bring it by your office.”

He nodded, a small smile curving his lips as he walked down the hallway and back to his office two doors away from hers. Chiaka released a pent up breath, wishing the tension coiled inside her would dissipate as easily as she drew breath.

What does he want? It had been a week since that last encounter, and she had been very careful to avoid being alone with him. After team meetings, she made sure she always left the room first, or second. Never last. She timed her arrival at work so that she was never the first to get there or the last to leave. Her actions hadn’t gone unnoticed. At least, not by him.

His raised eyebrows and slight smirk mocked her covert Operation Avoid-Drew-at-All-Costs, but that was a small price to pay for peace of mind. Sometimes though, she wondered if it would be so wrong to renew her friendship with Drew; strictly platonic of course.

Would it be so bad? To just be friends, no strings attached?

They had always been able to talk about anything – in the old days – and there were times when she longed for that same camaraderie; without the extras.

Then her common sense would kick in like a slap to the head, vaporizing any romantic notions.  She had no illusions about Drew. She could not afford to have any illusions about him. Trying to have a platonic relationship with Drew was like placing your hand on an open flame and hoping it wouldn’t burn.

Heart pounding, she strove for calm and control, deciding on the spot that she would walk out if he tried anything funny. Her emotions were all over the place, her marriage was in tatters and she felt like she was standing on the edge of a precipice – even a stiff wind would be enough to knock her over. Knock her right off the edge into dark, uncharted waters. And for what? Was her peace of mind the price she had to pay for financial security?

She found herself wanting to pray, but she couldn’t. Months of ignoring a God that had abandoned her rusted her heart and froze the words on her tongue. No. She wouldn’t pray. Couldn’t pray. Why would God listen to her? For months, she had prayed and cried for help, but none came. Why would He come to her aid now? Yet, the words cried out from somewhere within her, desperate for expression.

But she swept all thoughts of prayer away – swept them into the dusty corners of her mind and focused on her ex-boyfriend-cum-boss. What did he have up his sleeves? Was he going to toy with her again? Tease her with his clever innuendo, trying to trap her into a battle of wills with him?

So she prepared for the ‘meeting’ in Andrew’s office, giving herself pep talks along the way.

“Hey, Cindy,” she called as she walked past her colleague’s office.

Trying to act normal.

Like she was just another employee, going to the boss’ office for a meeting.

“Hi, Chi,” Cindy smiled, shortening Chiaka’s name to the more comfortable ‘Chi’. 

“I’m on my way to give Andrew the update on Desai. I’ll have the files up on the intraweb once I’m done.”

Cindy bobbed her head, her wavy hair swinging as she did so. “Sure, just let me know when they’re up so I can take a look.”

“Sure, will do.”

Talking about work with Cindy did what none of Chiaka’s pep talks could do, restoring some sense of normalcy to her day. A feeling of déjà vu swept over her as she paused briefly outside Drew’s door. She remembered the first time she had knocked on that door…remembered the mixture of fear and excitement that coursed through her. Then, she had come here to ask for a job. Now, she could be on the verge of giving up the very same job she had risked so much for.

What does Drew want from me? Why can’t he leave the past behind… let me work in peace?

Not sure what awaited her, she rapped on the door twice.

“Come in,” Drew’s said in a voice that gave no indication of his mood. His brown eyes somber, he waved her into the leather chair in front of his massive desk. Dark wood paneled shelves lined the back wall, and a few abstract art pieces hung on the side walls, giving the office a decidedly masculine look.

Pulling up another chair, Drew sat close to Chiaka – but not too close. She was glad to see a comfortable distance between their knees. Good. Maybe he was finally getting the message. She smoothed her skirt over her thighs, grateful that she had worn an ankle length skirt over black leather boots. The gesture also served to soothe her raw nerves, and she braced herself for the onslaught.

Then he surprised her.

“I’m sorry about the other day. I was a jerk.” His placed his hand on his chest, as though he was swearing an oath.

“I just…maybe I’m still hung up on you and it made me act crazy.” He smiled ruefully at her raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, just a little,” he said, holding his thumb and forefinger together.

“I was inappropriate and you have my word that it will not happen again. This is an office, you’re a married woman and I will keep things professional from now on.”

His admission took the wind out of her sails, deflating the nervous energy brewing inside her. It would have been churlish to do otherwise, so she graciously accepted his apology and he seemed determined to keep his word.

She should have been happy – her relationship with her husband was slowly getting back on track and Andrew was finally treating her like a colleague and nothing more. So, why did she still feel unsettled? Just last week, she had felt herself tossed about, in the grip of waves that threatened to overwhelm her. Now, finally cast ashore, she looked almost longingly at the turbulent sea, hoping for what? More turbulence? More drama?

“So, about Desai? Tell me what you have.”

Andrew’s voice pulled Chiaka from her thoughts and she shook her head, in a futile effort to clear the cobwebs from her brain.

For the next thirty minutes, she sat across from him as they discussed the project costs and forecasts. True to his word, he kept the conversation on point. Gone were the loaded glances, the sly smiles, the teasing innuendo that garnished their previous encounters.

Later, Chiaka sat at her desk, updating her files on the company-wide shared drive with details of the report she’d just presented to Andrew. A whispered sigh escaped her lips and a curious sense of loss filtered through her as Chiaka tried to remind herself that this was what she wanted. Andrew was her boss and he had been a good friend to her – giving her this job when she desperately needed one.

There was nothing more or less. The lines had been drawn and she would stay on her side of it.

***

Onyih Odunze

Thank you so much for reading this series. The conclusion will be available in my new book: Who Are You? and Other Stories...coming to Amazon on 02.14.14.

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Maintain Friendships with Good People

One week later

The light strains of music filtered into her consciousness, intruding on the cozy softness that enveloped her. Reluctant to wake up, she burrowed deeper into the covers, straining to recapture the blissful nothingness of a restful sleep. But, the moment was gone. Chiaka opened eyes heavy with sleep and turned down the volume on the pre-set iPod.

The room was dark save for the electronic glow of the iHome stand and pinpricks of light from the TV standby button and the baby monitor. Obinna had decided that it was time for KT to move into his own room.

“Babe, we have an empty nursery just sitting there doing nothing.”

Mentally, she agreed with the fact that at almost 2 years old, their son was old enough to sleep in his own room but it was hard to actually go through with it. Still, Obinna was insistent. Their relationship had thawed over the past few days and he seemed eager to break through the final barriers. Working like a man possessed, he dismantled the heavy crib and lugged it into the nursery, re-assembling it within a couple of hours.

Puzzled, Chiaka watched him work, wondering why he was in such a hurry. Warmth rushed through her when she remembered her husband’s other reason for wanting KT out of their bedroom.

“We need our space, baby. Maybe we should start working on baby number 2.”

A slight soreness eased its way through her hips as she turned over. Yes, they had made good use of KT’s absence last night.

The sound of flowing water told her Obinna was in the shower, and she threw the covers off as she got out of bed. He would be out in a few minutes and then it would be her turn to get ready. Obinna liked to wake up early and start his day, even though he stayed home most days, caring for KT and applying for jobs. An odd tightening in her chest reminded her of the resentment she had carried for so long, a journey still unfinished.

“How was your day?” he had asked that day, after the unsettling encounter with Drew. Caught off-guard by Obinna’s unusual domesticity, and unwilling to talk about Drew, she gave him a non-committal answer. Watching her husband dish out dinner, and set the plates on the crooked tablemats awakened an emotion in her. Something different from the weight of bitterness she had been walking around with for the past few months.

Relief that she didn’t have to cook dinner after a hard day at work.

Gratitude.

Surprise.

Obinna had always been hopeless in the kitchen. As a bachelor, he rarely ventured into his kitchen, preferring to order large trays of food from one of the many Nigerian caterers in Houston.

That day was the beginning of something – a shift; a cautious thaw in their relationship. Obinna went out of his way to do things around the house and Chiaka appreciated the opportunity to relax after work. A week had gone by and things were better than they had been in a while. Still, every day that she went to work and left Obinna at home with KT, or whenever she wrote a check for one of the household bills, something jerked in her chest.

Resentment. She had prayed and asked God to remove it, but it sat there. Unmoving. Intractable. Taunting her meager efforts at reconciliation. It branded her a pretender, a liar and though she tried, she couldn’t cast it aside.

The faint sounds of rushing water came to a sudden stop and she knew Obinna was done. Time to hit the shower and get ready for work.

Just out of the shower, Obinna hummed happily as he toweled himself, oblivious to the conflict that still raged within his wife. Things had been so much better between them in the past few days and his job prospects were looking good. He had done a second interview with the consulting firm he spoke with last week and he was feeling hopeful.

Something will come out of this. I just know it.

A feeling of peace settled in his heart as he thought about new beginnings; a new job, a fresh start with his wife…and maybe soon, another baby.

Yes, things were definitely looking up.

To be continued...

Onyih Odunze

Number 7 is pretty long and will be posted in two parts. Stay tuned for the second installment. Thanks for reading!

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Number 6: {Appreciate the Little Things. Never Take them - or him - for Granted}

2 months later

The silence, broken only by the hum of the central AC wrapped itself around her – oppressive and stifling. Mindful of something lingering and unresolved between her and Drew, she was careful to never be alone in the office with him. It had been relatively easy until now because the Front Office Coordinator, Jasmine always closed the office at 5.30 p.m. Besides Chiaka, there were three other people who worked in the office, managing sales and liaising with the clients. Drew himself was often out in the field, monitoring construction and tackling problems hands-on. But today had been different. First, Jasmine had called in sick so Cindy, one of the Sales Representatives had covered the front office for her. Unlike Jasmine, Cindy left with all the others at 5 p.m. on the dot.

Chiaka herself stayed a little after 5 p.m. on most days, and was usually out by 5.15 p.m. But, she had been held back dealing with a problem with one of their most important accounts. The work schedule on the strip mall had exceeded estimates and the project was close to running over budget. She had spent all afternoon adjusting the estimates, working on the spreadsheets to tweak the budget. Finally, exhausted but pleased with her efforts, she had looked up and seen the time. It was 5.30 p.m. and it seemed everyone else had left. At least Drew wasn’t in the office. Thank God, she breathed.

Grabbing her purse in one hand and lunch bag in the other, she was rushing down the short hallway that connected her office to the exit when she heard the door open. It’s probably the cleaning people, she thought as she rounded the corner and came face to face with Drew.

It was obvious he had just come in from a site. The chambray shirt he wore was open at the collar and sweat beaded his forehead, despite the cool November weather. Tucked into heavy work boots, his blue jeans stretched tight across his hips.

A slow smile curled his lips when he saw her and a tendril of something snaked its way through her.

“Well, what a surprise” he drawled. “I had almost forgotten you worked here, seeing as how you make yourself scarce whenever I’m around.”

Chiaka flushed. “Hello, Drew. I have no idea what you mean.” She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how unsettled she was around him.

His eyes twinkled as he laughed. “Kay, don’t give me that.”

He had always called her ‘Kay’ for short because he found her name difficult to pronounce. Hearing the affectionate nickname used to make her smile. Not anymore.

“Andrew, please don’t call me that. I’m sure you’ve dealt with enough Nigerians to be able to pronounce my name properly. It’s Chiaka….Chi-ah-kah…” Her tone was clipped, repelling any playful banter.

Silent, Andrew regarded her thoughtfully. It seemed to her that the room got warmer because she suddenly felt flushed. It couldn’t be because of his casual, yet intense regard of her, could it? The way those eyes traveled down her, with a hint of the intimacies shared in another time. A different life. Though he said nothing, tension crackled in the air as they stood – one seemingly casual and relaxed, the other on edge; a bird poised for flight at the first sign of danger.

Andrew took a step toward her and she stepped back, almost tripping over herself in her haste.

That darn cleft in his chin dimpled as he chuckled again at her expense. He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Relax. I was just trying to get by. I need to go to my office and change into some fresh clothes. Come by so we can talk some more. We need to catch up.”

The teasing light in his eyes was familiar and a rush of anger filled her chest. She wouldn’t be in this uncomfortable position…wouldn’t have to stand here and endure Drew’s flirting if it wasn’t for Obinna. This was all his fault. Jaw firm, she walked past Drew resolutely, and stood at the door for a moment.

“Thanks for the offer, but no thanks. You’ll find my report in your email, as usual. That should…catch you up on whatever you need to know. Goodnight, Mr. Curtis.”

She saw his eyes widen at her use of his formal name, and his mocking laughter floated through the door just before she closed it, trailing her down the wide hallway as she sought escape from the emotions that churned inside her.

***

Brake lights twinkled all around the gathering night as Chiaka made her way home. The street lights stood like sentries on I-10, watching unblinkingly as cars filled the six-lane highway, the bottleneck extending for miles ahead.

Chiaka sighed. Rush hour traffic. She had been working at Curtis Construction for two months and she still hadn’t completely adjusted to the routine. It was difficult leaving her son at Lily’s apartment most mornings, when previously she would snuggle with him before they started their day. The days she left him at home with his Dad were easier. Easier in some ways. Seeing Obinna holding their son on those days when he wasn’t hustling to get an interview twisted something inside her. What was he doing playing Mr. Mom when he should have been out there, busting his behind to get a job – any kind of job – to take care of his family? How could he stand there and smile at her when his lies and inability to keep his job had wrecked everything and put her in this untenable position?

Memories of her encounter with Drew filled her consciousness and she suddenly longed for a simpler time. Everything just seemed so complicated. She had known - known it from that day she saw him at Dave's party - that Drew was a no-go area. Then, she had only been concerned about her emotional stability and the security of her marriage. How was she to know that Obinna would lose his job, and they would find themselves on the knife edge of poverty? Pushed to the wall, she had done the only thing she could think of. At the time, it had seemed like the best solution. Now, she felt like a child tugging on the tail of a sleeping tiger.

A slow chill filtered into the car, and Chiaka reached across the dashboard to turn up the heat. As she scanned radio channels, a black Ford F-150 truck swerved from the right lane and cut in front of her so suddenly that her foot reflexively rammed on the brakes.

“What is wrong with you? Ever heard of a turn signal?” She yelled at no one in particular. Frustrated, she fumed as she turned up the volume on the radio. People don’t have manners anymore. A claustrophobic feeling crept up on her as she inched along the bumper-to-bumper traffic. So many people. So many different lives.

Driving past a Toyota sedan, she peeked around at the spectacled driver, quickly looking away when the woman caught her eye. She absently wondered what the driver’s home life was like. Did she have children? A husband? Was she excited to get home to her family, or ambivalent like Chiaka was? She missed the days when she and Obinna actually enjoyed spending time together…now, it seemed like they were either arguing, or icily polite to each other.

The sound of music filtered from the radio, filling the silent space in the car but unable to offer the solace Chiaka sought. She sighed. 

Nothing was the same. Everything had changed – and not for the better.

***

Obinna pulled his jacket closer to him as he walked from his car towards Lily’s apartment. Cars lined the parking spaces in front of the buildings, neat rows of sedans and SUVs filling the courtyard – their owners home after the workday, and ensconced in the warmth of their apartments.

His steps quickened and a thrill of excitement filled his senses. The interview that afternoon had gone really well. There had been so many, he had almost lost count. After a while, they had blended into each other – one recruiter after another, emails flooding his inbox. In the past two months, his resume had caught fire, attracting recruiters like moths to a flame. Glad for the attention, he had replied emails, done phone screens and attended interviews. But, this one felt different. It was different. And somewhere deep inside him, in the place where truth resided, he knew.

This is it! He laughed aloud and felt like jumping up and clicking his heels. He would wait to share the news…until he was sure. Until he could show Chiaka the offer letter – proof. Maybe then things would go back to normal. It had been difficult in the beginning, staying at home while his wife went to work. What was his role as a husband and father if he couldn’t go out every day and provide for his family? After years of having a steady job and regular income, he was at odds with his circumstances.

"Look bro, you can't let that stuff eat you up" his friend Dave had said during one phone conversation last week. "You know my wife is a Doctor, right? She's been earning more than me for years!"

"Seriously?" Obinna asked, surprised.

"Yeah. I mean, it was hard in the beginning because we men - especially us Africans - have this extreme ego thing where it feels like we should be the ones taking care of the family. You know? You want to earn the money and have your wife manage the home and look after the kids."

Obinna nodded in agreement. "No man wants to depend on their wife's money. It's...emasculating."

"And it was. But, man. I had to get used to it. First of all, this is America. Gender roles aren't cast in stone the way they are back home. I knew I was working hard and doing my part, so my wife and I talked it over and we've been good ever since."

Obinna rubbed his head in frustration. That was the thing. The talking part was where things got sticky. He and his wife hadn't had a civil conversation in what felt like forever, even though it was just the last couple of months. How would she react to any discussion about her job and the way he felt? Would she be willing to have an open-minded discussion or assume that he was trying to find fault with her?

“So…umm, what do you think would be a good way to approach the conversation?” Obinna asked.

A thoughtful silence greeted his question, and Obinna imagined his friend pursing his lips as he considered his answer. Dave’s hands would be steepled as he leaned forward, Bluetooth firmly attached to his ear. He hoped Dave wouldn’t probe. The desire to protect his wife’s privacy still burned in him, a steady flame that wouldn’t be quenched despite strong winds.

Finally, Dave cleared his throat and spoke. “Maybe, you can start by doing. I think sometimes we talk too much, yet our actions don’t validate what we say. I know you help take care of your son and all that, but pick up some more slack around the house. Do the laundry or keep the house clean so she doesn’t have to do it when she gets home. Heck, surprise her and have dinner waiting for her. That way, she’ll see that you’re not coming from a place of jealousy or resentment, you know?”

Hmm…doing instead of talking. That kind of made sense. He’d thanked Dave and hung up, caught up in his thoughts. Maybe if he shared more of the workload at home, she would see that he cared about her – about their family. She would see that he was willing to do everything in his power to make things work. She would see that he loved her and trust him again. Maybe. He hoped so. As he neared Lily’s apartment, his steps quickened, keeping pace with his heart. He fervently hoped so.

***

The savory smell of spicy noodles filled the narrow kitchen, as a small pot bubbled on the stove-top. Television sounds from the living room punctuated the air with Team Umizoomi’s high-pitched voices and giggly adventures. Enraptured, KT sat - bathed, dressed and ready for dinner. Obinna whistled to himself as he worked, a pleasant feeling of accomplishment coursing through him. He checked the noodles one final time, turned off the burner and set it aside. Taking out four eggs from the fridge, he cracked them into a bowl and reached for some seasoning. The array of spices in the cabinet interrupted his happy efficiency and he stopped for a moment.

Long narrow bottles of curry powder, thyme, something called ‘all-seasoning’ and cayenne pepper lined up in a neat row. Smaller containers sat in front of the larger ones, like rows of children in a school picture separated by height. Herb seasoning, onion powder, shredded pepper, ginger.

Hmm…does ginger go into an omelette? He wondered. He thought about checking for omelet recipes online, but pushed that idea aside. It would take too long, and the recipe might call for something he didn’t have at home. He wanted to make sure he was done before Chiaka came home. It was already 6.30 p.m. and she would be home any minute.

Ignoring the dizzying selection, he reached for the salt, added a little sprinkling of red pepper and whisked the eggs. He was in the middle of turning the heavy omelet for the third time when he heard a key in the door. Obinna turned down the heat and quickly set dishes on the little breakfast table that sat next to the kitchen. Luckily, he had taken out the place mats beforehand, arranging them in a pleasant pattern around the table. It didn’t look as good as when Chiaka did it, but it was the best he could do.

Running a jaundiced eye over his handiwork, Obinna shrugged. It would have to do. A curious sense of anticipation swept over him when he heard KT's trilling “Mama!” and Chiaka’s subdued response. He was standing with his back to the door and suddenly felt shy about turning around. He closed his eyes briefly, willing himself to act normal despite the recent tension.

Turning around slowly, he smiled “Hey, honey. Welcome home.”

Chiaka’s slow gaze wandered over the table, place mats at crooked angles against each other, then meandered to the saucepan, full of sizzling eggs. Finally, she looked at her husband and the look on his face pricked her heart. He looked hopeful, expectant…scared. He had clearly worked hard to have dinner ready when she came back, yet she could see that he was unsure of her reaction. Considering the atmosphere in their home the past few months, she didn’t blame him. How did one go about repairing a breach that felt miles wide? Was a simple meal of Indomie noodles and eggs enough to plug the holes?

She gave him a little smile and could see his shoulders relax in relief. Arms full of KT, she walked over to her husband and gave him a hesitant kiss on the cheek. She felt the smile pull his cheek before she saw it. His arms encircled her and their son and for a minute, she relaxed, glorying in his embrace and the love she saw in his face. Suddenly tired, she leaned against him, drawing strength from his solid frame. The next thing he said shattered her momentary peace and restored the unsettled agitation that had plagued her of late.

“How was your day, baby?”

***

To be continued...

Onyih Odunze

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Number 5 {Don’t forget the Lord...}

The shrill alarm coming from the other side of the room dragged Chiaka out of a not-so-restful sleep. She burrowed deeper into the covers as she tried to capture the rest that somehow eluded her. From the sounds Obinna was making, she could tell that he was getting ready to shower and get dressed. A desire to catch a few more minutes of sleep kept her in bed as her husband moved around the room. Though deep under the covers, she could feel his gaze on her. She was sure he was looking at her quizzically, wondering why she wasn't making any attempt to get up and get dressed. Or maybe he wasn't looking at her and didn't care if she went to church with him or not.

"Aren't you going to get ready?"

Annoyance rippled through Chiaka. "No, I don't think I'll go today. I'm kind of tired."

A short laugh escaped Obinna,, but he wasn't amused. "'Kind of tired'? What kind of excuse is that?" 

Chiaka pulled herself up to a sitting position, raising her eyebrows at his sarcastic tone. "It's not an excuse. It's a reason. I'm not going today because I'm tired. Simple." You can go jump in a lake if you don't like it she thought, but didn't say aloud. Some things were better left unsaid.

"You haven't gone for a couple of weeks. I left it alone because I know you've been upset and I didn't want to make things worse. But, you can't keep cutting church like this." Obinna kept his voice calm...placating almost. He didn't want to make an already bad situation worse.

"Cutting church? You say that like I'm your teenage daughter cutting school. I'm not a child, Daddy" she said in a cutting tone. "I can decide where I want to go and when. So, please, just quit."

Uh-oh. She called him Daddy...in that tone. She only did that when she was really, really, really upset. Socks in hand, he walked over to the bed and sat at the edge.

"Baby, this is a crucial time for us. I know things haven't been so great around here, but I trust God to open a door. One of these jobs will click...and it will happen soon."

Obinna reached for Chiaka's hand and was heartened when she let him hold it, though she made no effort to grasp his hand.

 "Baby," he continued "I really believe that things will change soon. But, I also believe that God is watching our attitude. He's watching how we act while we wait. Are we going to draw closer to Him or push Him to the backburner and do our own thing?" 

A sense of frustration filled Chiaka. How could Obinna be so resolute in his faith while she had none? How could he still trust God when she was on the edge of turning away? God had surely abandoned them. If He cared so much about them, why had He let Obinna get fired? Why did He close every door in their faces as they struggled to make ends meet...barely able to keep their child in diapers? Wasn't there a passage in the Bible that talked about God having thoughts of peace towards them...towards her? There was noting peaceful about what they were going through. Nothing at all. 

Leaning towards Obinna, she stuck her face in his and pointed her finger for emphasis. "I. Am. Not. Going. If God doesn't like that, He can tell me so Himself."

With that she turned away and resumed her position under the covers. "And you better take KT with you!" she called out, voice muffled. She didn't have the energy to keep up with him. Not today.

 Throwing one last glance towards his wife's huddled form, he prayed "Lord, help us. Please. Please. Our hope is in You." As Obinna walked away to wake KT, a strange sense of foreboding clung to him, but he tried to shake it off. He was jobless, his family was on the knife edge of poverty and his wife was slipping away from him. Really, what else could happen?

*** 

A few days later...

Dawn’s breaking light filtered through the venetian blinds, bathing the bedroom in a soft glow and revealing the empty space beside her. But that wasn’t what woke Chiaka up. Her senses had tingled with a strange sense of excitement since the previous night, preventing her from sleeping much. It had been two weeks since she had called him. Driven by desperation, fueled by a need to do something – anything – she had pressed the ‘Send’ button and invited her past into her present.

It had been so easy really. Easier than she thought. Heart pounding, she had waited as the phone rang. Thoughts bombarded each other in her head…she remembered her reaction to him when they had bumped into each other at Dave’s party two months ago. Why would she let him back into her life? Indecision warred with need in those few seconds. Anger flashed through her. This was all Obinna’s fault. All of it – their non-existent savings, the tension at home, teetering on the edge of financial ruin – all of it could be traced back to one person. Her jaw tightened and her resolve was strengthened.

One of us has to get a job, she thought. None of the jobs she had applied for had responded and it had already been a month. They couldn’t go on without any income – they barely had this month’s rent. What would happen after that? Should she do nothing, they could soon find themselves on the street, or imposing on the kindness of family.

No, she shook her head. She would do her part….like Obinna should have done his.

“Mama…Mama”

KT’s whining cry snapped her mind back to the present and she scrambled across to the foot of their king-size bed. He was already standing in his crib, arms outstretched.

“Mama!” he chortled. Laughing, Chiaka scooped him up and nuzzled his neck while he giggled. Love for him filled her and she sighed, looking over to the empty side of the bed again. She wished it were that easy with her husband. He had taken to leaving the house very early every day. Most times, he was gone before she woke up around 6.30. She had no idea where he was going, but she didn’t want to ask. Conversation had been lacking between them since Obinna’s big reveal about his job. The few times they talked, every word was cloaked with tension so thick; she could cut it with a knife. Her unease had increased since she spoke with Drew and set up the interview – Drew had referred to it as a meeting – for today. From his subdued reaction the last time they spoke about Drew, she knew Obinna would find it hard to deal with the fact that she had called him, so she didn’t mention it.

Glancing at the clock, her senses pulsed with that strange excitement again. It was time to get ready. Entering the bathroom, she started running water for KT’s bath. It was usually better to have him bathed and fed before she got ready herself. He could sit in his crib and watch TV while she showered.

As she showered, she could hear KT laughing happily as his favorite show – Mickey Mouse Clubhouse – came on.

“Tootles, Tootles” he yelled.

Chiaka smiled to herself as rivulets of water ran down her body. Their next door neighbor, Lily had agreed to watch KT for a couple of hours while Chiaka went on her interview. Her thoughts wandered as she imagined how the meeting would go. Toweling herself dry, she walked into the room and ran straight into a solid mass of muscle.

A guilty flush warmed her cheeks as she realized Obinna had come home early…for whatever reason. Today of all days! The last thing she wanted was to explain where she was going or who she was going to see. Good thing he was home though, maybe he could watch KT while she was out.

“You’re home early today” she said.

Obinna flinched at the accusing tone in his wife’s voice. She seemed constantly angry with him since he had finally told her the truth about his job. He knew things were difficult and he was trying his hardest to get a job, but nothing changed the look on her face or the tone of her voice.

Nothing except KT, he thought bitterly to himself as he watched her cooing to their son. Why did things have to be so complicated between them? He sighed and walked into the closet to take off his running clothes. Hearing sounds behind him, he turned around and realized Chiaka was getting dressed to go out.

“Going out, baby?” He forced a lighthearted tone into the question.

She nodded wordlessly. “Yes, I have an interview.” She looked at him like she wanted to say more, but looked away briefly then continued. “It’s at the Galleria and I’ll be away for a couple of hours. I was going to take KT over to Lily’s but maybe you can watch him instead.”

The lilt in her voice made the statement seem more like a question. But Obinna had his own questions. She had an interview this morning and was only just telling him? Something constricted in his chest but he pushed the hurt aside and somehow managed to smile at his wife.

“That’s fantastic, baby. I hope it goes well. What company is it?”

A look that he couldn’t quite identify flashed across her face, then it was gone, replaced with a blank expression.

“Oh, it’s a construction company. They need an accounts manager and asked me to come in. I won’t be gone long.”

He smiled at her gently. “I know you’ll be great. Don’t worry about KT…I’ll take care of him.”

Chiaka watched as he stripped off the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower. Something stirred in her as she reluctantly admired her husband’s body. She had seen the hurt on his face when he realized she hadn’t told him about her interview. Everyone could keep secrets. It felt petty, going back and forth in an effort to show him how upset she was, but she couldn’t do anything about it right now. Maybe later. They could talk later.

Yes, she nodded to herself. They would talk when she came back from her interview.

***

Chiaka was glad Lily answered the door on the first knock. Her round face creased into a welcoming smile as Lily glanced leaned over to look behind Chiaka for KT.

“Where’s KT? I thought you were bringing him over?”

“Yeah, I was but then his Dad came home so he’s watching him” Chiaka explained.

“Oh, okay. No worries. Mason will be disappointed though. He loves it when KT comes over.”

“And KT loves coming over. Maybe we can arrange something for tomorrow? I have to leave now, I don’t want to be late. But, thanks.”

“No problem. Bye, Chi” Lily waved.

“Bye, Lil.”

Her heels clicked on the concrete as she walked quickly towards her car. Luckily, it was almost 10 a.m. - past rush hour - so traffic on I-10 was light. She pulled into the high rise building that housed Drew's offices and found a spot in the parking garage.

As she got off the elevator, she looked around, impressed with the subtle elegance that surrounded her. Drew's office was more of the same - the dark beige carpet felt plush under her feet and tasteful art pieces hung on the walls of the front office.

A well-dressed young woman sat behind a gleaming desk, fingers hovering over the  keyboard. Her navy shawl-collar jacket and tie-neck blouse were tasteful and blended in with the stately office.

"Good morning, ma'am. How may I help you?"  She asked with a slight smile.

Chiaka cleared her throat nervously. "Good morning. I'm here to see D...umm...Mr. Curtis." She didn't want to give anyone the impression that she knew Drew personally.

"He's expecting me."

The receptionist swept wavy, brown hair her off her face as she looked at something on her computer. "Of course, Ms. Namani" she said, pronouncing it without the double-N. "Please, have a seat" 

Chiaka sat in one of the leather guest chairs and flipped through a magazine unseeingly. Lord, I hope everything goes well. Please, just let this work out. Part of her scoffed at the fact that she was trying to pray after snubbing God for the past few weeks. Why would God hear this prayer anyway? He hadn't heard any of the previous ones she had been sending on a daily basis.

"He'll see you now. Right this way please." The intrusion was a welcome diversion from her thoughts and Chiaka followed the woman to a door at the end of a short hallway. There were three or four other offices located on either side of the brightly lit corridor, each with an employee behind a desk, busy with what Chiaka presumed was construction business.

Hmm, Drew seems to be doing really well for himself.  The thought gave her comfort and a measure of confidence that he would be able to find a position for an old...friend. So, why did she feel like Daniel, walking into the lions' den?

To be continued...

Onyih Odunze

Thanks for reading...please share your thoughts below. Did you enjoy this story? Then share with your friends and catch up with the entire series! 

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Her heart raced as she hurried out of the conference room. Sitting there for the past few minutes had taken every ounce of self-control she had. The pressure had been building and her mind screamed at her to get up, but she didn’t want to disrupt the meeting or call attention to herself. Anything but that.

Bent over, she hurried down the hall, hoping her stooped posture would help curb the release. The heaviness in her pelvis told her it was almost time, but she still hoped she could outrun the avalanche. Heart thudding, she walked as quickly as she could, heels muted by the vinyl flooring.

‘Where is the restroom?’ she wondered helplessly. It was coming. She couldn’t stop it. A few more precious seconds ticked by as she walked around – she saw a room number 228 – she had just seen that plaque ten seconds ago. Her heart sank – she was going around in circles.

As she hurried down the previously travelled hallway, she saw Mr. Lang, the man who had spoken at the meeting. Hearing steps behind him, Mr. Lang turned his head and she quickly ducked behind the wall, silently thanking God that she hadn’t stepped out into the open. She didn’t want anyone to see her. She knew what was about to happen and she couldn’t let anyone else in on that. Her own private hell.

Surreptitiously, she clung to the wall that hid her until she saw the slight Asian build disappear behind another square corner. Still doubled over, she dashed out but it was too late. The rush of blood ran down her leg, soaking her underwear and her pants leg. Desperately, she cupped the blood with her free hand but it was an exercise in futility. The blood dripped down her pants and through her cupped hand, leaving a trail of perfectly round dots in her wake. Mortified, she rushed for the first door she could find. STAIRS it said. Well, then she would take the stairs.

‘It’s a good thing I decided to wear black pants today’ she thought absently.

As she half-walked, half-ran down the stairs, she could feel the lump nestled in her soaked panties. It rubbed against her, but she resolutely closed her mind. She would deal with it when she got to the restroom. She had worked in this building for two years, but her department was housed on the second floor. The meeting today had been held on the fifth floor. Shouldn’t all the floors have the same layout? Where in God’s name was the restroom?

Through the glass opening in the door, her eyes caught a familiar sign – a man, woman and child holding hands – and she sighed in relief. Finally. Hands sticky with blood, she pulled the door, but it wouldn't open. She pulled it again. No luck. Frantic, she ran to the door on the other side of the stairwell and pulled that door. Locked. That was when she saw the sign ‘NO EXIT ON THIS FLOOR’. She cast a longing glance at the restroom…her salvation – so near, yet so far.

Reversing direction, she went back up the stairs. By this time, the blood in her hand had dripped out…one drop at a time, leaving behind a sticky residue. She refused to think about what that residue was. Thinking about the trail of blood she had left upstairs made her feel guilty for some reason. She mentally sent out an apology to the people who would have to clean that up. There was no way she could go back and do it. Thoughts of finding a restroom and removing her bundle gripped her. Everything else could take a backseat, including the questions:

‘God, why me?’

‘Why here?’

‘What have I done wrong, Lord?’

The questions would always be there. But, would she ever find the answers?

Finally, she spied a restroom on the first floor. Somehow, she had been able to make it there without attracting too much attention. Stoically, she pulled down her underwear and removed the bloody bundle – her unborn child. Critically, she examined it for signs of humanity…for signs of a defect. She saw none, but she knew what she held in her hands.

Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you…

Carefully wrapping the bundle in tissue, she said her goodbyes to what might have been and disposed of it the only way she could. She wished it had happened at home. She would have wrapped it in a little white towel and buried it with some dignity.

At the sink, she scrubbed her hands and tried to get the dried blood out from under her nails. A few traces remained but she left them. She took off her jacket – another fortuitous choice – and slung it around her hips, tying it in front. Then she picked up her purse and her notebook and walked out as normally as she could.

Spreading her jacket over the driver’s seat – no sense getting blood on everything – she got in and started her drive home. Still dry-eyed, she called her husband to tell him what had happened.

“Baby, are you alright?” his concerned voice asked. The sound of his voice broke the dam. Then the tears came. As she wept for what she had lost, one line ran through her mind:

Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him.

Author's Note: 

I wrote this story to address an issue dear to my heart - the agony of a miscarriage. I remember sharing the story of my second miscarriage with someone and she waved her hand dismissively and said "Oh, that was only 7 weeks so it's not a big deal."

NO! It was a big deal...and it is a big deal. So many times, people expect women to just brush things aside and move on and that's why I wrote this story with so much detail. Too much detail? Too much information? I don't think so. The woman in this story miscarried a very young fetus, but her pain and agony is the same as if she lost a 14-week or 24-week fetus. 

For us women, from the moment we see that positive pee test, we don't think 'Oh, I have a mass of undifferentiated cells growing inside me'. No. We think 'I'm going to have a baby.' We imagine a little boy or little girl, smiling, cooing, growing...

I know miscarriages are pretty common and I know several women who have experienced this same heartbreaking loss. I wrote this story for them...for anyone who is waiting to get pregnant. Through all the pain, remember this...God is still God. And He is still good. I always use my experience as an example...if God could bless me with two beautiful children - after everything - He can do the same and more for you. 

Trust God and Him alone. Don't let anyone rob you of your right to grieve, but after you do, look up and see hope.

Be encouraged, 

Yours in Him - Onyih Odunze

Please share your thoughts on this story - I would love to hear them. Thank you for reading. 

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Make prayer your watchword; pray always, no matter how busy you are.

Mind reeling, Chiaka tried to digest what her husband was saying. Somewhere in the background, KT was crying and grasping her legs, asking to be picked up. She absently picked him up and patted his back, trying to soothe him.

Her mind rang with questions. Why didn’t you tell me? Don’t you trust me? Didn’t you think I deserved to know? She found it hard to believe that Obinna had been out of work for three weeks and she hadn’t known. So, where had he been going every morning? Getting ready for work, leaving the house with his briefcase and customary cup of coffee? Why had he kept up a charade for so long, and deceived her so thoroughly? If her husband couldn’t trust her enough to share things with her – both good, and bad – then what was the point? Wasn’t the marriage relationship supposed to inspire intimacy, trust, friendship?

Finally, mind still whirling, she asked the first question that had screamed through her mind “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Obinna hung his head “I’m so sorry, babe. I wanted to, but I didn’t know how. I suppose I was in denial. I never expected to get laid off, and I didn’t want to believe it at first.”

“Yes, but that was three weeks ago”, Chiaka said pointedly. Shouldn’t he have gotten over his denial after three weeks of lying to her?

Obinna nodded and released a pent up sigh. “I know”, he said quietly. “It just got harder and harder to tell you as time went on.”

“Why was it so hard to tell me? I thought we were supposed to be able to tell each other anything. Why did you keep lying to me?”

“I’m sorry, babe. I’m sorry.” Obinna reached across and held his wife’s hand. “I have no excuses. I guess I thought I would get another job really quickly, and it would be a moot point.”

Chiaka shifted, trying to get more comfortable on the sofa. KT had fallen asleep in her arms and she clung to him, staring at her husband and wondering if she ever really knew him.

A pained expression crossed his face when she pulled her hand from his grasp, but she didn't care. She couldn't deal with his hurt emotions right now. What about her emotions? Who could she trust if her own husband and supposed best friend could lie to her with a straight face?  Was it right that she felt betrayed? Maybe he had a right to keep some things to himself, in an effort to protect his family, keep her from worrying. But, didn’t she have a right to know about something that would affect her life, her son’s life? How would they live? She knew they still had some savings, but overwhelmed by caring for their son, she had asked Obinna to handle the household bills and finances for a while.

"I probably have to get a job”, she said after an uncomfortable silence.

“What about KT? I thought we agreed that you would stay home with him for a few years?”

“Yes, we agreed. But, now that you’ve gotten yourself laid off, that won’t be possible anymore, will it?”

Obinna recoiled as though she had slapped him. Like any married couple, they’d had their share of misunderstandings, but she had never spoken to him like she just did. Derision dripped from her words, and she held herself off from him as if she couldn’t bear to touch him. He shook his head. He was hurt and disappointed, but remained stoic. He knew she would be upset because he had kept something so serious from her. 

"So, where have you been going everyday when I thought you were at work?" 

"Umm....I was at Starbucks, filling applications." 

Obinna saw the emotions flickering across his wife's face and his heart sank. He knew he should have told her the minute it happened, and the longer it went on, the more difficult it became to spill the truth. The thought of losing her trust scared him, but something else loomed even larger in his mind. She had looked at him with disgust just now...would he lose her love too? 

***

 One month later...

Chiaka sighed as she stared at her inbox...waiting for emails that just wouldn't arrive. Things were getting desperate at home. Their joint savings account was shrinking, and along with it, any semblance of peace or love that previously blanketed their home. Tempers were short, patience non-existent. Obinna seemed to take offense at every little thing and sometimes Chiaka felt like she was living in a war zone: she always had her guard up and was ready to fight. She needed a job. He husband needed a job. But, weeks of what felt like interminable applications hadn't brought any prospects.

"What are we going to do?" she wondered aloud. If one of them didn't get a job soon, they may have to move. She looked around the bedroom she had worked so hard to decorate - like she had the entire apartment.  Maybe it will come to that, she mused as she looked at her sleeping son, sprawled out beside her on the bed.

A feeling of helplessness came over her and she leaned against the headboard. They had both agreed that she should stop working right after KT was born. It had felt right at the time; Obinna had a great job and she welcomed the idea of raising her son at home for a few years without the added stress of a full time job.  Neither of them could have foreseen what would happen less than two short years down the line. She made up her mind then that it would never happen again; she would find a job and this time she would keep it. KT would go to childcare, and they would never find themselves high and dry ever again.

The other day, Obinna had flushed with shame when she asked him to pick up some diapers for the baby. She knew their savings were running out, and she got some perverse pleasure from watching him squirm. Silently, she thanked God that she hadn't pooled all her money into their joint savings after she stopped working. Her secret stash was proving to be a very valuable lifeline. But, it wouldn't last forever. 

As she reached across the nightstand for her phone, her fingers bruhed her Bible. She picked it up and turned the pages unseeingly. It had become difficult to make out time to read it and reflect on it. Running a household and keeping an active 18-month old in check was more difficult than it sounded. Plus, with everything going on, her heart just wasn't in it. She sighed and put it down. Maybe tomorrow, she promised.

She unlocked her phone and flipped to her contacts. For some reason, she had never deleted his number. And now she was glad she hadn't. He owned a construction company that was doing really well. At least it had been when she knew him. Fervently hoping that was still the case, she scrolled down the 'D's and pressed the 'Call' button.  

*** 

To be continued 

Onyih Odunze

Number Three: Communicate Frequently. When you are together, try to talk over issues that concern you. Never bottle things up ... Speak up and move on. 

An initial rush of emotion flooded her, like waves crashing against the shoreline. A quiet storm begun brewing inside her at his quiet 'hello' and she had trouble catching her breath. The din of the party faded into background noise and the heat working its way through her body wasn't due to the temperature in the room. It took some doing, but Chiaka finally managed to wrestle her breathing into submission as she stared at the man standing in front of her. The initial shock gave way to a flurry of questions, each racing quickly through her mind, not even waiting for an answer before the next one came. Demanding. Urgent. 

What is he doing here? How does he know Dave? What should I say? Does my hair look alright? 

Well, some more urgent than others. 

She tried to remember the last thing she had said. It wouldn't do to appear flustered by his sudden re-appearance in her life. After all, she was married to a wonderful man and had a beautiful son. Drew...No, Andrew had no hold over her. Not anymore.

What was the last thing she had said?

"So, how have you been?" That was a safe enough question.

"I've been great", he said, eyeing her speculatively. "You look great."

"Thank you." She cast a smile in his general vicinity and turned to go. "It was nice seeing you again, Andrew. Take care."

His lips moved in a mirthless smile "You used to call me Drew."

"Hmm. Yeah, I used to" she said pointedly, waving as she walked away. I need to get out of here. She didn't want her past to come blundering into the new life she was building with her family. Obinna knew about Drew, but only in bits and pieces. Chiaka had tried to give him all the sordid details but he had stopped her.

"Baby, everyone has a past. I don't need to know all the details. What you've told me is enough. I love you and you love me...that's enough."

She knew then that he was the one. And she wasn’t going to let anything or anyone wreck her well-ordered life.

***

“Who was that guy?”

What? In the middle of wrapping her hair for the night, Chiaka turned, brush in hand and her long hair only half-way done.

“What guy?” she asked as she tried to figure out her answer. It was silly for her to feel so guilty. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet, the feeling had clung to her for the rest of the evening as she chatted with Jules and danced with Obinna. An acute awareness of Drew’s presence had loosened her tongue. Determined to show that she had moved on quite nicely without him, Chiaka talked more and laughed louder than she usually did in public. Jules cast her a couple of puzzled glances, but she had resolutely ignored her. Nobody would know how much seeing Drew again had affected her. Especially Drew. Covert glances around the room told her that he had kept his distance, firmly ensconced on the other side of the room, chatting easily with a group of people.

Why did Obinna have to bring him up now, when she had spent the last few hours trying to forget she had ever seen him? 

"He's the one I told you about..." she said in a subdued voice. Even though she had told Obinna about her ex, it still felt uncomfortable to talk about him. Idly, she wondered if there was some kind of etiquette for discussing previous intimacies with one's husband.

"Oh."

Obinna watched his wife as she sat at the dresser, brush in hand, hair in disarray...almost as if she had forgotten what she was doing there in the first place. During the party, he was preoccupied with the secret he was keeping, trying to figure out how to tell his wife about his job. He still had another paycheck coming and they had some savings, but he needed another job as soon as possible. All his efforts had so far yielded no results and he was getting worried. Though distracted by myriad thoughts, it was impossible to miss her encounter with that guy...Andrew? Drew? Whatever his name was. A hot streak of jealousy flashed through Obinna as he remembered his wife's stunned reaction to the man...how her mood had suddenly changed after their quiet exchange. Usually on the quiet side, she had become garrulous, her laughter ringing over the loud music. If he didn't know better, he would have thought she was drunk. Now, her behavior made sense. He had made his peace with her past. He thought they both had. But her reaction said otherwise. Why was she so affected by him? Was it just the discomfort of seeing an old flame, or was it something else?

Silent, Obinna watched his wife as she regained her composure and continued brushing her hair, wrapping the long lengths around her skull in circular motions until it lay flat like a skull cap. She quickly tied a scarf around her hair and climbed into bed beside him. As she smiled and reached for him, the questions nagged him: Who was she thinking about, even as she lifted her face for a kiss? Unable to resist, he pressed a kiss to her lips and her ardent response sent heat through him. Even as he lost himself in her, he couldn't lose the image of her standing, lips parted, skin flushed, staring up at a man he had never met who had somehow taken up residence in his head. 

To be continued... 

Onyih Odunze

 Did you enjoy this story? Please share by using the 'Share' button below and come back on Sunday, August 4th for Number 4!

Thanks for reading! 

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Obinna grabbed his cup of coffee with one hand, juggled his briefcase in the other and kissed his wife and son as he left for work. Just like he had yesterday. And the day before. The soft feel of Chiaka’s kiss stayed with him as he went downstairs from their third floor apartment. It stayed with him as he walked past the cars neatly lined up in their parking spots, waiting for their owners to beep them open and jump in, ready for another day. Just like Obinna was doing. Ignoring the questions pounding through his brain, he pulled out of their apartment complex on Richmond Avenue and headed South on TX 6 freeway. Again, just like he had yesterday and the day before. However, instead of heading toward his office at the Galleria, he stayed on TX 6 and made a U-turn when he got to Interstate 10, stopping at every red light, feeling the frustration that came with rush hour traffic.

“Should I tell her?” he wondered again. He had asked himself the same question over and over for the past two days. What would she think of him? How would she react? He had never hidden anything of consequence from his wife, and the secret was killing him. It had been two weeks already and he was somewhat surprised that he had managed to skirt the issue for so long. Absurdly pleased with himself, he smiled briefly, then stopped. Nothing about this is funny, he reminded himself. Lord, what should I do? How can I tell her the truth without losing her trust?

Seeing the familiar green icon, he pulled into the parking lot and got out, reaching into the back seat to grab his briefcase. The sight of the cardboard boxes stopped him cold. He pulled one close and looked inside. Pictures of his wife and son. Happy pictures. Smiling pictures. He had proudly displayed them on his desk at work, excited to show off his beautiful family. Look how God has blessed me, he wanted to shout to everyone. Do you see? As he ordered his Starbucks coffee and settled in for the day, he wondered how to tell his wife that he had lost his job two weeks ago.

***

A few days later

Chiaka hurriedly finished her makeup, and dashed out of the apartment. She fanned herself with her hand as she walked quickly towards the car. Sweat beaded her forehead and her silk blouse developed an affinity for her back. The short walk felt like a full workout session and she sighed blissfully when she got into the car where Obinna was waiting.

“Phew! Some weather we’re having!”

Her husband nodded absently. “Yeah, Houston summers are brutal.”

She pulled down the visor and fussed with her hair, tucking a few errant strands back in place. “Have you spoken with Uncle Fred?”

“Yes. He said KT is doing great, and having loads of fun with his cousins. Not missing us even a little bit.”

Chiaka smiled. It was nice to have some time alone with Obinna after dropping KT off at Uncle Fred’s house. Uncle Fred’s son, Greg was visiting with his wife and two small children and it was nice for KT to play with the other children. Sometimes, she thought he must get lonely and bored being stuck with her all day. Maybe it’s time for Number 2…she had mentioned it to Obinna sort of jokingly a couple of days earlier, and he had snapped at her that it was too soon. He’d walked away muttering about budgets and timing, and Chiaka tried to ignore his attitude. He was probably stressed at work, or just having a bad day. She glanced at him and reached out a hand to smooth his furrowed brow.

“Why so serious baby? Is everything okay?”

Obinna jerked as though she had slapped him. “Why do you ask that?”

Surprised at his somewhat extreme reaction to her innocent question, Chiaka paused before answering. “It’s just that you’ve seemed a bit…unlike yourself recently. It’s like you’re upset about something.”

A flicker of emotion swept across Obinna’s face so quickly that she would have missed it if she wasn’t watching so closely. It was there and then it was gone.

He waved a hand dismissively. “No. No, I’m fine. There’s nothing going on.”

Unconvinced, Chiaka pressed. “Are you sure?”

“Just drop it, baby. If something was going on, I’d tell you!” he snapped.

Hurt by his tone, Chiaka nodded slightly and glanced outside as other cars zipped by. They had been invited to their friend Dave’s birthday party and she had been looking forward to having some fun with her husband, but not if he was going to be like this. She looked at him again and sighed at the look on his face. It’s going to be a long evening.

Her phone beeped and she pulled it out of her purse, grateful to have something to distract her. It was a text message from her friend Julia. “Hey, are you guys coming or what? Party is in full swing!”

She smiled and quickly tapped out a reply: “We’re on our way, you party animal J”. Trust Julia to already be there having fun. With the frosty atmosphere in the car, she suddenly couldn’t wait to get there herself.

As they approached the neighborhood, Chiaka pulled down the visor for one more look at her hair and makeup. The neatly lined houses sat behind large, neatly-manicured lawns with wrap-around porches. Spring flowers provided bursts of color and several children were out riding their bikes or playing basketball. As they approached Dave’s house, she could hear the faint strains of Nigerian pop music. Cars were lined up on both sides of the street outside Dave’s house, so they drove around to find a free spot, careful not to block anyone’s driveway.

Not wanting to spend an uncomfortable evening with her suddenly-silent husband, Chiaka reached for his hand as they walked towards the house.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, baby” Even though I can’t figure out what I did. Still, for the sake of peace… she quirked an eyebrow in his direction. “Forgive me?”

Obinna sighed. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he just tell his wife the truth and be done with it? They would work through it as a couple and figure out what needed to be done. He just kept hoping he could get another job quickly and then he would tell her what had happened. They were still okay financially, because he still had a couple of checks due from the office and they had some savings. He knew he should tell his wife, but something kept him back. Maybe it was pride. He had always taken pride in being a good money manager, even when he was single. He had a decent job right out of college and had worked his way up gradually. Being laid off had been humiliating…devastating. He hadn’t even finished processing it and how was he supposed to tell his wife? Dredge up the feeling he had as he sat across from his boss, watching his job slip away?

He looked at his wife’s earnest face and felt a twinge of guilt. She had done nothing but trust him and love him. I’ll tell her when we get home tonight. She loves me. I know she’ll understand. Suddenly gripped by an overwhelming love, he grasped her hand and squeezed tightly. He pulled her to a stop just outside Dave’s house.

“No, baby. I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. Forgive me?”

She smiled and leaned in for a quick kiss.

The door opened behind them and a female voice said “Eww. You guys, please get a room.”

They laughed and broke apart to greet Julia. Obinna said a quick hello and walked over to a group of friends. Chiaka lingered. “Hey, Jules”

Julia hugged her. “Hey, babe. Where’s KT?”

Chiaka laughed. “I’m fine, thank you for asking.”

“Hmm, who has time for you?” Julia scoffed. “Please, tell me what you’ve done with my boy.”

Chiaka smiled gratefully at her friend for lightening her mood. Jules had a knack for doing that.

“He’s at Uncle Fred’s house haniging out with his cousins.”

“Ok, cool. Give him a kiss for him and tell him Aunty Jules misses him.” Julia turned towards the kitchen and dragged Chiaka behind her. “Come and get some food.”

“Hey, Chiaka!” a voice called out.

Glimpsing their host, she quickly let go of Julia’s hand and gave him a hug. “Hey, birthday boy. Happy birthday. Where’s madam?”

“Oh, she’s upstairs doing something. Grab some food, there’s lots to eat.” With that he waved and moved on to greet other guests. The room was pulsing with music and energy as people milled around, eating, and having loud conversations.

There was a veritable feast set up in the kitchen; trays of jollof rice, golden brown fried plantains, stewed beef and chicken garnished with chopped peppers, meatpies, and buns – a deep-fried doughy snack made with flour, eggs and sugar. Spoiled for choice, Chiaka made a plate with a little bit of everything for Obinna and grabbed two pieces of chicken and some plantain for herself.

She picked her way carefully through the crowd and spotted Julia across the room waving her over. Thankful to see an unoccupied seat in the crowded room, she sank down next to her friend.

“Wow, there are so many people here.”

“Yeah, you know Dave. Mr. Popularity. He should have just rented a hall and saved himself the trouble.”

Chiaka nodded in agreement. “Abi?”

Chiaka made quick work of her food. “Save my seat for me, Jules. Let me trash my plate. I’ll be right back.”

Jules stretched out her right hand “How much will you pay me?”

“You’ll have my undying gratitude” Chiaka said with a chuckle as she walked towards the kitchen, shaking her head at her friend’s antics.

The kitchen trash was overflowing, plastic plates and half-eaten food spilling out onto the marble floors. Chiaka gingerly stuck her plate in the corner of the trash can and stood for a second to make sure it didn’t fall out. As she turned to leave, a male voice said quietly “Long time, no see.”

Suddenly, it felt like all the air in the room had been sucked out. The sound of that voice sent shivers down her spine and the hair on the back of her neck bristled. She knew who it was even without turning. How could she forget that voice? How could she forget the way he had called her ‘baby’, and the things he had done to her. No, correction. The things she had allowed him do to her. She had tried to put that part of her life in the past. Tried to forget it and move on. She constantly reassured herself that being in Christ made her a new creation. Old things have passed away and everything about me is new. She had said it to herself everyday and had started to believe it when she met Obinna. Obinna had been stunningly different from the man she was sure now stood behind her. He had treated her with respect. He had treated her body with respect and she had loved him for it. Her past was firmly in the rearview mirror…or so she thought. But, no. Here it was, forcing her to confront it once again.

She turned slowly, somehow wishing she could have just ignored him and kept going. His strong jaw line came into view first, with that tantalizing shallow cleft in his chin. Her eyes traced his face, from his firm lips and his aquiline nose to his dark eyes. Those eyes. As dark and mysterious as always.

She steeled herself and prayed her voice wouldn’t betray the conflict in her soul. “Hello, Drew.”

To be continued.

Onyih Odunze

Haven't read Part 1? No problem...just click on 'Older Posts' and catch up with the story so far. Thank you very much for reading! Knowing you're there keeps me writing. Stay inspired... 

Number One – Build a Lasting Relationship

A thrill sped down her back as she shivered in anticipation. She knew what was coming…expected it even, but it was still a shock when she felt the gentle pressure of his lips on hers. She clung to him like a starving woman as he deepened the kiss, gently at first, and then more ardently at her fevered response. When his hand moved towards the buttons on her blouse, the haze of passion cleared and she gasped.

She wrenched herself away from him, shunning the contact she had so desperately craved just a few minutes ago “No! No, Drew…please don’t!” God, what is wrong with me? What am I doing?

Contrite, Drew pulled back, a look of consternation on his handsome face. “Goodness…I’m so sorry baby, I...”

“Don’t call me that!” she screamed almost hysterically as she hurriedly smoothed her mussed hair and slipped her feet back into her black pumps.

“That’s what my husband calls me” she muttered under her breath as she walked – no, dashed out of Drew’s office. She ignored his calls for her to come back, resisted his apologies. She had to get out of there. Desperation fueled her and she ran, trying to escape what she had done…what she had been about to do. She gave no heed to the fear curling in the pit of her stomach as she hurried to her car, stumbling on the concrete pavement as she made her way across the parking lot. Some other emotion gripped her, but she didn’t recognize it until she fumbled her car door open and sat staring at herself in the visor. It was emblazoned all over her face…lurking there in the shadowed brown eyes of the woman that stared back at her. Guilt.

***

Six months ago…

Chiaka laughed as she tried to catch up with her crawling son. He had just upended a white cardboard box that held her old letters and cards and was heading towards the small bookshelf in the corner of the room.

“Oh no you don’t, KT!” she exclaimed as she grabbed his legs. Frustrated, the baby kicked against her hold and burst into angry sobs when he couldn’t break free.

“Aww, don’t cry my KT boo boo…Mummy just doesn’t want you making a mess.” Obinna and Chiaka had shortened their son’s name to KT after a few weeks, because his given name – Kanyitochi – was a bit of a mouthful. They figured he would either grow into his name or decide to keep the nickname.

Chiaka and her son were spending the day together as they did most days. She had decided to take a break from her job and stay home with him for a few years. Fortunately, her husband’s income was enough. For now. Hopefully, for a while, she thought as she cuddled her son. She never tired of his baby soft smell, or of kissing that spot right between his neck and his shoulder. It always made him laugh and left her amazed at how blessed she was.

Thank you Lord for such an amazing gift. She had heard stories of couples who tried to conceive for years and she was grateful that she had gotten pregnant before it became a ‘prayer project’. Her son giggled as she tickled him, but his good mood soon dissolved into sobs when she put him in his playpen.

“Sorry sweetie, but Mummy has to clean up this mess.” She sighed as she surveyed the cards and letters littered all over the carpeted floor. She surfed channels and found a one showing cartoons, which caught KT’s attention and transformed the sobs to sniffles.

As she picked up the papers strewn all over the floor, a small rectangular piece of paper with slightly faded writing caught her attention. She placed the other documents back in the box and held up the paper. She smiled as she realized what she was looking at. It was a note from her mother-in-law, written shortly after she and Obinna had gotten married eighteen months ago. She read the first few lines and remembered why she had decided to save it.

Your relationship counts. I am handing him over to you so both of you can cleave together as one. Create enough space in your whole being for him…he has never married before, so give him time to learn.

It was an unassuming note, written on the back of an airplane ticket holder. Filled with motherly advice, the handwritten lines were scribbled next to each other, cramped and difficult to read. But she had treasured it and saved it, more as a keepsake than as something she would find useful. Now, I’m glad I did, she thought as she skimmed the rest of the note.

Frustrated at being left alone, KT started to fuss and Chiaka hurriedly picked up the rest of the papers and stuffed them in the box. Walking into the bedroom closet, she placed the box on the closet shelf where it would be safe from her son’s inquisitive hands. She folded her mother-in-law’s note and tucked it into the pocket of her jeans. I need to read this later. God knows I need all the help I can get.

***

The muted sounds of the TV and the humming AC were the only sounds in the house. Mercifully, KT had fallen asleep and Chiaka was enjoying some much needed respite. She lay on the couch in the living room, one arm holding the sleeping baby sprawled on her chest. She knew she should have put him in his crib but she was so tired, she could barely move. She consoled herself with the fact that even if he somehow fell out of her grip, it was only a short distance from the couch to the floor. Remembering her hard wooden floors, she reluctantly sat up.

She glanced at the clock hanging on the beige walls. 5.45 p.m. Obinna would be home soon. She walked down the short hallway to the nursery and gently put her son in his crib. Quickly, she picked up the toys that littered the small living room and put them KT’s toy box, careful not to wake him. She picked up a few other odds and ends and looked over her work when she was finished. The ultra-modern living room gleamed, just the way Obinna liked it. The charcoal sectional sofa was free of clutter and the matching ottoman sat squarely in the middle of the plush area rug. Sunlight filtered through huge bay windows and bounced off the shiny wooden floor.

Satisfied, she walked the short distance to the kitchen and started getting dinner ready. Measuring out a few cups of rice into a bowl, she lightly washed it at the sink, quickly running her fingers through the long, slender grains. The sound of keys in the lock told her Obinna was home and she smiled happily as he walked in, shedding his jacket and tie.

She walked towards him and kissed his cheek “Hey, honey.”

Obinna dropped his briefcase on the floor and hugged his wife. “Mmmm…that feels good. More please.”

Chiaka giggled as he nuzzled her neck, enjoying the feel of his lips on her skin. “Not now. The baby is asleep and I’m making dinner.”

“That little boy is cramping my style”, her husband said in mock disappointment. “One of these days, we’ll go dump him with his aunty for an entire weekend so I can enjoy my wife.”

“Promises, promises.” Chiaka smiled. It would be nice to have some time to themselves. Obinna’s aunt and uncle lived in Rosenburg, about 40 miles from Houston. Their busy schedules meant visits had to be carefully planned in advance, but it was always nice to see them and it would be doubly great if they could take the baby for a couple of days.

Chiaka busied herself with the dinner preparations, setting the placemats on the dining table and steaming vegetables in a saucepan. “Baby, please could you go wash up so we can have dinner? The rice is almost ready and I just have to heat up the stew.”

“Oh, baby. I’m sorry, but I have to dash out for a quick meeting.”

Puzzled, Chiaka raised her eyebrows. “But, you just came back from work. Why didn’t you have the meeting there before coming home?” She studied her husband for a few minutes and sighed at what she saw on his face. The emotions shifted so quickly, but she recognized one of them – guilt.

“You’re not really going for a meeting, are you?”

Shame-faced, he shook his head. “No. Baby, you know I hardly get to hang with my guys anymore. I’m just going for a quick pick up game and I’ll be back before you know it” he said pleadingly.

Obinna had a very close circle of friends and they were all huge basketball fans. The guys liked to play pick-up games several times a week, but Obinna had slowed down on the gatherings when they got married, only attending once or twice a week. She knew he needed space to do things on his own or with his friends, but it didn’t stop her from feeling lonely. Spending all day alone with the baby meant she was desperate for adult conversation with her husband when he came home. She briefly considered making a fuss, but what would that achieve? There was no point forcing him to stay home and have dinner with his family, if he would rather be out with his friends.

Sighing with resignation, she forced a smile to her face. “Sure. Go and have fun, babe.”

She kept the smile on as he rushed through the apartment, shedding clothes as he went. She wore it like a cloak, hiding her disappointment and it stayed on as she waved and watched him leave for his game. Luckily, she kept busy through the evening, bathing KT when he woke from his nap and putting him to bed after a dinner of mashed rice and vegetables. Energized after his nap and meal, KT played hard and wore himself out after about an hour. Tired and bored after KT was down for the night, Chiaka mindlessly surfed channels, watching TV but seeing nothing. She told herself she wasn’t waiting up for her husband, but three hours later, she finally gave in and went to bed.

A piece of paper fell out of her pocket as she wriggled out of her jeans. She picked it up and tears pricked her eyes as she remembered her mother-in-law’s note. Create space in your life for him, she had written. Tears streamed down Chiaka’s face as smiled bitterly at the irony. She looked around the empty room…the cavernous bed that would feel his absence as much as she did. There was enough space for him, more than enough…he just didn’t want to fill it.

To be continued…

Onyih Odunze

“You see, as wives, we have a great deal of responsibility on our shoulders. Remember Abigail? She saved her husband by acting wisely to deflect David’s anger after her husband answered the king foolishly.”

There were nods of assent and murmurs of agreement.

“On the other hand, take a woman like Sapphira, Sister Biodun continued. “She colluded with her husband to lie and deceive the apostles about how much they sold their land for. What do you think would have happened if she had done the difficult thing and encouraged her husband to tell the truth?”

Nonso slipped out of her seat with a murmured “Excuse me” to the woman sitting beside her. She walked quickly through the double doors and headed for the restroom. Talk of truth-telling and wifely responsibility made her uncomfortable. She knew she was nothing like Sapphira. Sapphira had lied for financial gain – Nonso was just lying to protect herself. Well, I won’t call it lying…more like ‘omitting the truth’. Yes, that definitely sounds better. She was nothing like Sapphira, was she?

She pushed open the heavy bathroom door and stopped at the mirror for a moment, studying her reflection. Clear brown eyes stared back at a petite frame. Nnamdi used to joke that she was so tiny; he could put her in his pocket. The laugh lines at the corners of her eyes hinted at someone who loved to laugh…was there anything on her face to show that she was also someone who lied to her husband? Tendrils of guilt snaked their way through her for the first time. Getting the birth control wasn’t wrong, she assured herself. Yes, but not telling Nnamdi about it was, a small voice countered. You’re lying to him, making him think you’re both trying for a baby when that’s really not true.

“Who are you talking to?”

Nonso started. She didn’t realize until then that she had been pointing at her image and speaking aloud. Embarrassed, she smiled at Sandra.

“Oh, no one.”

“But, I heard you talking to someone just now”, Sandra persisted.

And what business of yours is it? Nonso questioned silently. Sandra was an inquisitive sort and Nonso made sure to keep her business away from someone who was well known for…passing information along, to put it kindly. That wasn’t entirely possible because news got around, but she didn’t volunteer any if she could help it.

“Well, I wasn’t talking to anyone so I’m not sure what you heard” Nonso said somewhat curtly.

Sandra huffed and looked askance at Nonso as she walked into one of the bathroom stalls.

Nonso sighed. So much for some peace and quiet to process her internal struggle. She quickly slipped out before Sandra could accost her again, taking care as always to cover the door knob with a paper towel as she opened it. Bathroom door knobs are so grungy, she thought as she crumpled up the tissue and threw it into a trash can down the hallway.

Her attention wandered all through the rest of the meeting and she left as quietly as she could during the discussion session. Her thoughts were centered on telling her husband the truth. She knew she had to do it. She just didn’t know how. Lord, please give me strength. As she drove home, she prayed that the fragile peace they had found wouldn’t be shattered.

***

The sun was high in the sky when Nonso pulled into their driveway. It was almost noon and she knew Nnamdi would be home from his Saturday morning errands. He had probably parked in the garage, so she left her car outside and fumbled through her key ring for her house key. A light breeze stirred the cool spring air and she pulled her corded jacket closed as she walked, mentally bracing herself for what she had to do. Filled with nervous energy, she opened the door and walked in, shedding her shoes and jacket as she walked through the front room.

She took the stairs at a run and gasped when she collided with a solid mass.

“Hey, what’s the rush baby?” her husband asked.

“Sorry, babe. I wasn’t even looking.”

“How did the meeting go?”

The meeting. How did the meeting go? The blasted meeting had stirred up things she would rather not confront. But, she knew that lies were not a recipe for a successful relationship. “It was really good”, she answered honestly. “It made me realize that I haven’t been fair to you…” Nonso was pleasantly surprised at how quickly she had gotten to the point. Hmm, maybe this won’t be so hard after all.

“You haven’t been fair to me?” Nnamdi asked quizzically. “How? Are you adding butter to my food and trying to make me fat, or pinching me in my sleep?” he asked teasingly.

Nonso dragged him away from the landing and into their room. There was no sense in postponing the inevitable. The bright sunlight cast shadows through the room and a feeling of deja-vu washed over her as she pictured the scene of their last ‘serious’ talk on the same bench, there in their room. She remembered the feeling of peace and contentment she’d had when she finally let Nnamdi know how hurt she had been by his absence during the miscarriage. She smiled at him as they sat facing each other, lightly holding hands. Rubbing his hands, she took a deep breath and started.

“Nnamdi, I’ve been lying to you for the past few months and I’m really sorry,”

Nnamdi was taken aback. His heart dropped and he wondered what Nonso was talking about. They had finally made their peace a while ago, and the atmosphere in their home was much lighter. Nonso laughed more, and the shadows around her eyes had almost disappeared. Almost. They still crept in, darkening her lovely eyes and making them water. It was especially hard for her to be around young mothers and their children, reminders of what she had lost. What they had lost. But, he had faith. He and Nonso had been trying for another baby and he knew God would answer their prayers and bless them again. One of these days.

He had really hoped they were finally on the road to re-building a meaningful and lasting relationship, but now she was talking about lying to him? A sense of sadness pierced him as he wondered why his wife couldn’t - or wouldn't - trust him. Hadn’t he shown her that he loved her? That he would do anything for her? He knew he wasn’t perfect. He made mistakes, like anyone else but she ought to know that he could be trusted. He could be leaned on…relied on for strength when things got hard. He deliberately let go of his thoughts and focused on his wife.

“Baby,” he began softly. “You know you can tell me anything, and I’m not just saying that.”

Nonso had seen the fleeting emotions on Nnamdi’s face and she made up her mind that she would never deliberately do anything that might hurt him, no matter how upset she was. They would still have their disagreements, but adding deliberate hurts to the mix would only make things worse. Lord, teach me how to love him, she prayed silently. She held tightly onto his hands and gave voice to the lies burrowed deep in her heart.

Nnamdi listened silently as Nonso talked and heaved a sigh of relief when he heard what she had been hiding. She was on birth control? That wasn’t so bad. She might have been having an affair or she had decided to leave him. After a few moments, his initial sense of relief gave way to anger and disappointment. She was on birth control! All this time, he thought they were trying to have a baby only to find out that she was actively preventing it! He flushed as he remembered how many times he had asked her why it was taking so long and she would always smile and say ‘You know you can't put these things on a timetable. Maybe next time.”  But, she had been deceiving him all along! Why couldn’t she trust him? Did she think he would be upset that she wanted to wait? He pulled his hands away from hers; steeling himself against the tears he knew were sure to follow.

Standing up, he paced around the room a couple of times before resuming his previous position next to his wife.

“Why, Nonso? Why didn’t you just tell me that you wanted to wait?”

Nonso fiddled nervously with her fingers, unsure of how to answer. She had cringed when he called her ‘Nonso’ instead of the usual ‘Baby’, but she could understand. He was upset. He felt hurt. Hurt by the person he loved most in the world. There were so many words inside her…so many emotions churning and demanding to be expressed. She mentally rifled through them and chose to focus on the most important one.

“I was afraid, baby.” No ‘Nnamdi’ for him. No, he was her ‘baby’ and would always be. She felt a small sense of satisfaction that she had managed not to respond to his little dig. Hmmm, maybe I’m finally getting the hang of this, she smiled to herself.

Nnamdi’s puzzled look made hear realize she was getting sidetracked.

“You don’t know what it feels like – the excitement at finding out I was pregnant. Every day was a new experience and I soaked it all in, recording every tiny detail so I could share it with our baby whenever he or she was born.” She continued wistfully.

“And then all of a sudden, poof. It’s all gone. There’s nothing left but a broken heart and shattered dreams. I think the worst part was hoping that it wasn't real, and not being able to escape the reality…hoping that God would swoop in at the last minute and save my baby, but He didn't.” Her voice caught and she struggled to go on. "I still don't understand why", she whispered, almost to herself. 

“When He didn't,  it was…it was beyond devastating. It was the darkest moment of my life…I just didn't want to go through that again and I thought that if I got pregnant, the same thing would happen” she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, as though to shield herself from even the thought of another miscarriage. She looked across at her husband, willing him to understand that it was pain and fear that drove her. She had never meant to hurt him. Never meant to lie to him.

“I just couldn't go through that again, babe. I just couldn't  I’m sorry I lied to you. I was just...scared. I’ll go and see my doctor on Monday and get the IUD out, if...if you think I should.” A sliver of apprehension streaked through her as she made that promise. What if she got pregnant and the same thing happened? She didn’t think she could survive it.

“Stand and you will see the salvation of the Lord.” The scripture popped into her mind and she felt as if Someone had wrapped her in a warm embrace. She knew then that whatever happened, God wouldn’t let her go through it alone. She had rejected God the last time and that had only made her suffering worse. She had tried to heal herself, tried to bring herself to a place where she wouldn’t feel any pain, but it hadn’t worked.

She had only ended up feeling emotionally and spiritually bankrupt, shutting her husband out and almost losing her marriage in the process.

Nnamdi looked at his wife’s teary face as understanding dawned. They had both lost their baby; but while he was eager to move on from the pain, she was held prisoner by it. She had been the one that carried the child, the one who had shared her body with a baby that was born too soon. He didn’t know what she had gone through and he couldn’t judge her. Father, help me to show her that she can trust me. Teach me how to be the husband she needs, Lord. He drew his wife into his arms and murmured into her ear.

“No, baby. You don’t have to do that.” He pulled away from her and looked into her eyes to show her that he meant what he said. “You don’t have to get off birth control until you’re ready. I won’t rush you anymore, promise.”

The last tendrils of fear fell away from Nonso and Nnamdi could see the shadows in her eyes disappear in the brightness of her smile. His wife had finally been restored to him and he was at peace.

***

One year later…

Nonso loved springtime. The sun was bright without being too hot and the air was cool without being harsh. She loved the bloom of new flowers and the gradual re-greening of the trees. The car tires crunched gravel as they pulled into the church parking lot. They were later than normal and the parking lot was already full. Nnamdi drove around until he found a parking spot at the edge of the lot, next to a tree-lined hedge. Nonso gave Nnamdi a quick smile as she scrambled out of the passenger seat, adjusting her clothes. She smiled when she saw the buds peeking out from the tree next to where she stood. The trees were recovering from the cold, harsh weather and new life was springing forth. New life. She smiled again and adjusted her gele. She wasn’t normally a fan of the ornate headscarves but today was a special day.

“Oooga, booga, boo!” Nnamdi said as he opened the back door.

Nonso giggled as her husband exchanged baby talk with their son. Her strong, serious husband was now well versed in the art of cooing! She thought back to last spring and how God had finally brought them to a place of peace after all the turmoil in their lives. God had blessed them and today they would share their joy with their family and friends. Yes, God had been good. She smiled again as she reached into the backseat for her daughter. After a few fumbles, they had finally gotten the hang of taking the twins out and she stood patiently as Nnamdi expertly unfolded the twin stroller. They each placed their bundles in the stroller, making sure the car seats clicked into place before they made their way into the church. Nnamdi pushed the stroller, cooing as he went and Nonso smiled again. It seemed that was all she could do these days. The pain of the past had faded…the wounds healed. Scars remained though, but they didn't hurt anymore. Instead, they served as reminders of the journey God had brought them on. Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life. The sun warmed her skin and in the distance, she could hear birds chirping out a cadence known only to them. She wished she could be like them and share her joy with the whole world, singing at the top of her voice. Her dreams had been shattered, but a  new dream had sprung from the shards, filling her with light and new life. She looked down at her children, caught her husband’s gaze and smiled again. Two new lives.

Onyih Odunze

Thank you for staying with us and reading this series. Stay tuned for more exciting stories here on MOTS. Stay a while and visit…and stay inspired!

Yoliba stood in front of her dresser mirror and studied her naked outline. Everything seemed to be just as she remembered. She stuck out her washboard stomach with some effort and grimaced when it barely rounded up. She tried a few more times, and muttering in frustration, swung her head around wildly searching for the throw pillow. It was securely lodged in the crook of her sleeping husband’s arm. Sighing, she ceased her frantic exercise and sat down gently at the edge of the bed. So what if she had a body that would make Kim Kardashian green with envy? It was a useless asset if it did not fulfil its obligations to her, her husband and their extended family. She would gladly live with a pot-belly, stretch marks and sagging arms if only, if only she would carry a child in her womb. If only.

Jayike watched his wife through narrowed eyes as she performed her histrionics in front of the mirror. He had come to expect Yoliba’s routine mirror antics with the same certainty with which he expected day to become night. She had started it a year ago and never missed a day, no matter how busy or tired she was. Sometimes it was the throw pillow which he clutched in pretence of sleep that was her imaginary foetus of the day. Other times it was a heap of clothes, quickly rolled up and stuffed under her clothes.

But today was different; today, he wanted to watch her completely vulnerable, hence his staged sleep. She was an exquisitely beautiful woman; people had always commented about her beauty. He had been tickled to see the envy on their faces especially when they appraised him and found him lacking both in the height and looks department. Not anymore though. Now he saw pity. He saw raised eyebrows and questioning glances. From her mother he saw an ascending despair; from his mother…he was not sure. When she looked at him, he saw pity, but when she looked at Yoliba, he was afraid to admit it, but he was almost certain he saw hate. It was deeply unsettling because he remembered vividly his mother’s avowed love for his wife in the early days. Until the years of childlessness began to take its toll on them all.

“What if, what if she never gets pregnant eh, Jayike?” His mother queried him, again and again. “What if? Will you die inside this one wife that cannot give us children?”

Now he pondered the same question himself as he watched Yoliba, two years after he had harshly scolded his mother for asking them. “What if she never bears children? Ordinary miscarriage she has never experienced, so what if? What then?”  

An inadvertent sigh escaped his lips and Yoliba turned to study him.

“Jay? You awake?”

Jayike feigned a sleepy murmur and snuggled even deeper into the covers, but Yoliba was having none of it. She pulled down the covers, tossed the pillow away and straddled him.

“I am ovulating Boo, giddy up.”

Jayike sighed again in exasperation. Sex was becoming such a chore, such a scientific exercise. Times and dates and seasons and methods were tacked all over the bedroom walls; it had to be this way and that way and then the other way. He sighed again, because in spite of himself, he was aroused. “Dear Lord,” he prayed silently, “Let this be it. Make it happen for us Lord; make it happen for us now.”

Three years later…

Jayike studied his secretary’s scrawny chest which she insisted on baring in her v-necked blouses. He had never scolded her for her overt sexuality because it had only amused him in time past. Not anymore though. Now he stared in full blown lust. This gaunt but efficient secretary was suddenly very attractive because she had a child borne out of wedlock for a runaway boyfriend. To Jayike’s clouded mind, that showed that Chimaya was a real woman. If she could have one, she could surely have another. So he studied her, and subconsciously planned his extra-marital affair. He would not marry her, no, but he would keep her on a permanent basis. He didn’t know how he would handle living with Yoliba and the children Chimaya would bear him, but he was sure his mother would have an idea. This was for the good of his marriage, he assured himself. In the long run, Yoliba would appreciate his sacrifice.

Chimaya raised her head and smiled seductively at her boss. She could sense his interest in her, and it made her take liberties she hitherto wouldn’t have. She brushed against him whenever she could and wore even more dangerously low-cut blouses. She created opportunities to be alone with him, and most daring of all, she started to snub his wife, Yoliba. “Anytime now,” she thought to herself with barely supressed glee.

They appraised each other, until Jayike averted his eyes. “Is my flight to Abuja booked?” he asked, huskily clearing his throat.

“Yes sir, it is. It is for 2pm, so you should be leaving for the airport by say, 12.30, to be safe.”

Jayike glanced at his watch. It was almost 10am. “Focus man,” he chided himself. He had to get his portfolio in order if he was going to get the giant FMCG Company, ZP on his account. Big companies were wary of single operators like him, but with a long and distinguished career in the advertising industry, he was sure his reputation would precede him.

***

Later that day: 12pm

Chimaya stood in the general office, arms akimbo, snarling out orders to the driver. She was an abrasive fellow, particularly where her perceived subordinates where concerned. Now, with her new sense of future glory, she had turned it up a notch. Mid-snarl, Jayike burst out of his office, and she immediately simmered down.

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Jayike ordered passing his briefcase and suit jacket to the driver, Elochukwu. He bade his staff farewell and trotted briskly to the waiting transport, giving terse instructions as he went. 

Dissatisfied, Chimaya brooded in the privacy of her screened desk following her boss’s departure. After the intense stares they had shared she had been expecting a more intimate farewell, a peck or two would have been in order, no? “C’mon,” she chided herself. “He’s travelling for one afternoon and you want a kiss?” Rolling her big eyeballs, she swiveled in her chair to face her computer; work waited, she didn't want Jayike stressed or upset when he returned.

Minutes later, she paused to get a cup of water from the dispenser and noticed smoke spiraling from underneath the door leading to her boss’s office. Alarmed she rushed to open the door and yelped when the heated door handle scalded her palm.

“Meta, Nonye, Kpere, come oh!!! Oga office dey burn ooo!!!” All pretence of sangfroid had flown out the window.

Her colleagues dashed in, more to witness what had disgruntled little Miss Perfect, than to put out a fire. Only Meta who sat closest to her had actually heard the letter of her harried words. He came in bearing the fire extinguisher which he brandished triumphantly. “Where? Where? Where?”

Carefully, they shoved the door open, and Meta tiptoed in. The culprit was the air-conditioning outlet located just behind the door. The fires on the upper half of the door burned weakly, and it was quickly put out. They walked around the office, shutting off power outlets, until Chimaya made the decision to call Yoliba and intimate her of their little escapade. She reasoned that her boss had more important matters to handle than a mere office fire which did little or no harm.

***

An hour later: 1pm

Yoliba carefully placed her make-up tools on its designated shelf and shrugged out of her branded tee. Today’s job had been particularly frenetic. The bride was an agitated shrew and her aso-ebi girls had spent the morning quarrelling about everything. “I pity the man that is marrying that one oh” she murmured rolling her eyes. She was immediately contrite. The bride to be was heavily pregnant and that might have constituted to her unrelenting disenchantment. “Who am I to pity anyone,” Yoliba thought bitterly. “Give Jayike a shrew that can bear children and an angel who can’t will be tossed aside immediately.” An image of the irritating Chimaya flashed unbidden, and Yoliba felt sick to her stomach. She sat down heavily on the sofa, but her stomach kept roiling. Uncomfortable, she crept to the floor and laid flat, her tears threatening to spill over.

“Not today, I won’t cry today. No more self-pity, not today. God has been so good to me; my business has flourished beyond my expectations, Jayike’s company is growing in leaps and bounds. So my mother-in-law hates me. So I have no children, so Jayike might…”

Yoliba’s musings gave way to prayers, and she began to pray fervently; not about her infertility though; she was praying for Jayike, and not concerning his assumed dalliance either. She was praying for his protection and she had no idea why. Before she could further examine the motives behind her confessions, the phone rang. It was Chimaya. She gave a brief report concerning the office fire and rung off without answering Yoliba’s myriad questions, so Yoliba called Jayike who had boarded the plane and informed him of the fire.

“I am on my way to the office,” she reported, “Where are you?”

He was reluctant to disclose his location, but the plane was filling up quickly. They would take off very soon. “I am in a Malu Airline plane on my way to Abuja.”

“Abuja? You didn’t say anything about a trip to Abuja to me Jay.”

He ignored her inquiry. “We will be taking off soon. Chimaya didn’t call me, so I am sure she has it under control. You don’t need to go there, and neither do I. Bye…”

“Wait!” She was hurting and she struggled not to lash out at him. “The office had a fire incidence Jayike! You need to come back and check things out, for yourself! Come on! I am on my way there now, Jay, please come.”

“Pathetic, dependent woman,” Jayike thought coldly terminating the call. “Chimaya would have had this under control. She would have known that this trip is more important than a charred door.” Nevertheless, force of habit made him stand, and reach for his briefcase in the overhead compartment. Tucking his blazer and iPad under his arm, he strode forward, anger and disgust forming a vortex in him.

The hostess cast him a curious glance, took a step in his direction and stopped. The negative energy around him was palpable. They watched him leave in silence and continued attending to more friendly passengers. The doors shut behind him with a thud.

***​

2.30pm

Yoliba sat listlessly in front of the 40-inch flat screen. She flipped through channels but her eyes saw nothing. She had tried to call Jayike several times but his phone seemed to be switched off. She decided she wasn't going to face Chimaya’s barely veiled scorn; not when Jayike obviously valued her opinion more than his wife’s. As she channel-surfed, the words ‘breaking news’ on Channels TV broke through her haze.

“Malu Airlines plane no. 2345 from Lagos to Abuja for 2pm has crashed a few minutes after it took off from the MMA airport…”

Chimaya was watching the same channel in the restaurant across the road where she had gone for lunch. Her spoon dropped from nerveless fingers and her bowels let loose. Her boss was on that flight, and she had booked it for him.

Jayike saw the news flash on CNN online via his i-pad. He was in front of his office but immediately instructed the taxi driver to take him home.

Yoliba screamed and screamed; then she fainted.

***

Two Years Later

“They are smiling oh, take the picture nowwww,” Yoliba and Jayike urged the photographer, proud as only parents have a right to be. The twins were one today and they had been co-operating nicely with the photographer. Pictures taken, Yoliba scooped up her son, and Jayike picked up his daughter. “Wardrobe change,” he cooed as he tickled her and sent her into a laughing fit.

Depositing her with his wife and mother-in-law, Jayike made his way to the kitchen where his mother reigned supreme. She gave him a drum stick to munch on, and quietly shut out the noise and play.

“Jayike nwa’m, I know you are happy with Jayanma and Sochi, but they are adopted. What if, Yoliba never ever has her own children for you? Eh?”

Jayike sighed. “Mama, what if I had died in that plane crash two years ago? Would you even be talking about children now? Eh Mama? What if Yoliba didn’t pray for me and call me? What if, Mama? If you can answer my questions, I will answer yours.”

She was silent for a long time, and when she finally spoke, her voice trembled. “Forgive me my son, I speak like a fool in my old age.”

“We have all been there Mama. I have spoken and thought and acted the fool one time too many, so who am I to judge?”

They smiled watery smiles at each other. “You have a good wife nwa’m; God bless Yoliba my daughter and bless Jay Jnr. and Sochi my grandchildren.”

“Ameeennn!!!” Jayike declared in a shrill falsetto, sending them both into gales of laughter.

The End.

Jenny Nkem Eneanya

{Read more from Jenny here: www.jennienkem.blogspot.com}

​

Stay inspired…

Onyih

Making It Work: Unity in Diversity 

She was raised Catholic and came from a very strong Catholic background. Just to put into perspective how strong her Catholic background was, when Pope John Paul II visited Nigeria in the 80s, he presented her grandmother with an award for 50 years of meritorious service in the Catholic Church. So she wasn’t just raised Catholic, she was Catholic.

 When she and her husband were courting, since he wasn’t Catholic, she pondered over some questions; would she be willing to leave the Catholic Church, where she had been raised? Where would their children worship? She didn’t want the kids to attend church with one parent only, while the other parent went to church somewhere else…where was the family unity in that?  And so she decided to test the waters. Her husband – boyfriend at the time - invited her to a service at the Inter-denominational Pentecostal Church where he worshiped  She still remembers the service so vividly – the Pastor’s message was powerful and filled with humor – it was gripping. A few months later, she attended another service at the same church and was so affected by the message that she was speechless! Eventually, they got married and she joined her husband’s church.

Now, attending a church as a visitor was not half-bad. You didn’t pay attention to the details, enjoyed the service and left; but going as a member? A different story altogether. And so, the wahala (problems) began. Hmm…no one told her it would be so hard to transition from being Catholic.

 Almost everything was strange...

She had one too many questions for her husband!

She was used to praying in silence, and solemn worship, but at her husband’s church, people would yell, scream and distract her from her quiet communication with God. She just couldn’t concentrate! Why can’t they let me worship in peace, she wondered. She saw people screaming at the tops of their voices, disconcerting because she was not used to this ‘style’ of prayer. She also had immense difficulty with the praise and worship. She loved music, but apart from a few Don Moen and Ron Kenoly songs, she didn’t know any of the songs the choir sang ... after all, they were not in her Catholic hymn book and they were not traditional songs. She didn’t know these songs so she couldn’t sing and that was frustrating.

Another big issue was understanding the pastor's instructions: what did it mean when he said 'Turn to your neighbor and say ...' She wondered why she had to turn to the person sitting next to her and say anything. Couldn’t they hear with their own ears? They were both sitting in the same service, weren’t they? Her husband struggled to provide answers to her many questions.

Another thing that struck her was that people in church were always lifting up their hands …praying out loud (with their hands raised), singing (with their hands raised), meditating (with their hands raised) ...even when the pastor said a prayer, they had their hands raised intermittently. She later understood this to be ‘claiming the word’. It totally confused her. And then in numerous services, when the pastor said something particularly motivating someone would shout things like “Preach Pastor!”, “Word!”, “Tell them Sir” or any combination of all three. And she would turn to her husband and whisper, isn’t this rather rude? Why are they heckling the pastor while he is preaching? 

She continued attending her husband’s church but was still loyal to the Catholic Church. For the first few months after they got married, she continued to make her financial commitments to the Catholic Church. After observing for a while, her husband had a conversation with her. He used this analogy to explain his position: "Babe, you can’t drink a cup of coffee at a Starbucks in London and tell them you will pay at Starbucks in America. Yes, it is still the same company, but you pay where you have been filled …where you drank the cup of coffee”. In other words, if she got her nourishment from the church in Port-Harcourt, then why was she making her commitments somewhere else? He advised her to open her heart, listen to the substance of the message and forget all the other little distractions. And so she agreed. She opened her heart and just listened ... and listened and listened and faith did indeed come.

The bible says that faith comes by hearing and hearing by the word of God. And so one day while the praise and worship was going on, she saw her hands raised high up in worship. Wow, how did that happen? And as they prayed, she saw her hands raised, and then the unthinkable happened – her lips moved …alas! What happened to me, she wondered in amazement.  

The whole process took some work, but she made a personal decision with the help of her husband to converge with him on that particular issue. She was determined to make it work and her husband stood by her, buying her CDs and helping her learn the lyrics to the worship songs. Something else that helped her transition was being part of a smaller unit in the church – the Couples Fellowship. Sometimes, it’s easy to get lost in a big church. The Couple’s Fellowship and other smaller units of the church help to bridge that. But more than that, it takes a personal commitment from both partners to make a marriage work: patience, understanding, love and above all prayers are all elements key to having a successful marriage in Christ. This is fundamental.

In the end, this is what she learnt:

• Marriage is a union of 2 different individuals; a ‘convergence’ of two diverse backgrounds and experiences.
• This ‘convergence’ requires compromise. No marriage ever worked when both individuals involved take parallel paths; convergence is imperative.

So your story might not be similar to hers: it could be differences in culture (to kneel or not to kneel, pounded yam or Poundo); differences in the way money is managed or utilized based on the way you saw it with your parents; it could be about how you address each other’s older siblings; it could be with table manners (some don’t like to hear the sound of cutlery hitting teeth while eating); cultural, religious, tribal differences are numerous; or it could be something even more divisive. But as a spouse, empathy, love, patience and understanding are some of the ways we can overcome or learn to accommodate our differences in marriage. We can make it work, if we determine within ourselves to find our unity in the midst of diversity.

Do you have a similar story to share on how you overcame and made your differences work? Please share if you can and bless someone who may be going through some challenges in that area.

Thanks for reading! God bless!!

 Adanze Ali

Nonso hissed with irritation when she saw the shredded pieces of toothpicks on the tiled floor. Why does he have to actually eat the toothpicks…and then spit them out? Just thinking about the grossness of it made her shudder. It was bad enough that her husband, Nnamdi had discovered an additional function for toothpicks – apparently, just picking his teeth with them wasn’t enough – but why couldn’t he just throw the pieces away when he was done? She sighed and walked towards the room to change out of her work clothes, kicking off her shoes at the door. Her shoulders ached from sitting at a table all day and she swung her work bag off her shoulder and dumped it on the floor as she walked into their bedroom. She usually felt relaxed whenever she was in their bedroom – two bare, white canvas paintings adorned the soft-grey colored middle wall, and the two leaf-gold side walls accentuated the brown velvet detailing on the king-size bed. The discreet striped pattern on the bench perfectly matched the accent pillows, and white flowers on the tall nightstands complemented the wall paintings. She had pored over countless interior décor websites and painstakingly picked out every single item. Nnamdi had laughed at her single mindedness and insisted playfully, with a twinkle in his eye, that ‘all they needed was a comfortable bed’, but she had been determined to create the perfect home for their new life together.

Perfect home, perfect marriage…perfect life.

That was what she had expected, but what had she got? Perfect home, yes. Perfect marriage? Not by a long shot. Things had gotten marginally better since that morning two weeks ago when Nnamdi had unexpectedly surprised her with early-morning love-making…they had both been late to work and she spent the whole day in a fog of happiness. She had thought that bubble would last, but it hadn’t. Life had intruded again, like an unwelcome guest at an invitation-only party. She heard the sound of the shower behind the closed bathroom door and wearily sank down on the bench.

She had thought that Nnamdi would finally come around and try to heal the wound that hurt the most – his absence during the most devastating experience of her life. There were other things that bothered her – their lack of intimacy, his unwillingness to help around the house – but none of them could compare to the feeling of abandonment…aloneness that she had felt. They had planned for children, had expected them even, and the miscarriage was a huge shock. It had come out of left field and had literally crippled Nonso. Her days blended endlessly into one gray blob and her spirits had been crushed. I could have handled it better if he had been there. It wasn’t just his physical absence that hurt, but he seemed emotionally distant as well. She had grieved for months but he seemed to move on quickly, wanting them to try again after only a few weeks. Didn’t he understand what she had been through? She had lost a child, for goodness sake! She couldn’t just move on like nothing had happened…but more than that, she was afraid. She was afraid of getting pregnant again. What if she had another miscarriage? No. She couldn’t, wouldn’t go through that kind of pain again. A secret visit to her OB/GYN had taken care of it and she only felt a slight twinge of guilt when Nnamdi wondered why it was taking so long. Just then, the bathroom door opened and interrupted her trip down memory lane.

She stared at Nnamdi and hoped her guilt wasn’t emblazoned on her face.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hey, baby. I didn’t hear you come in.” Nnamdi responded with a smile as he toweled himself dry.

“Yeah, you were in the shower, so you wouldn’t have.”

Nnamdi looked at his wife and wondered what she had been thinking about before he opened the door. She looked so vulnerable…wounded, almost – he wanted to ask, but he hesitated. Again. He had found himself doing that more often in recent days. Things had improved for a few days, but had gradually deteriorated again and he had run out of options. Lord, how do I reach my wife? There had to be a way. Sometimes, he felt like she was waiting for him to say or do something, but what? Every time he asked her what was wrong, she would smile slightly and give her stock answer “Nothing. I’m fine.” Unsatisfied with that answer, he would press her but she wouldn’t budge. “Really, baby. I’m good.” Well, what was he supposed to do if she couldn’t, or wouldn’t open up to him? He wasn’t a mind reader. Suddenly frustrated, he abruptly turned and walked back through the bathroom to the closet.

Nonso caught the subtle shift in her husband’s mood and wasn’t sure what to make of it. Shouldn’t she be the one that was upset? Coming home after a long day at work to sweep up shredded toothpicks and watch her husband blithely go through life without acknowledging his role in the pain still etched so deeply inside her. She knew she should just let it go and move on, but she didn’t know how. As if on cue, Sandra’s words floated through her mind.

“Nonso, one thing marriage has taught me is that your spouse won’t always react to things the same way you do. They probably won’t even react the way you want them to, but that doesn’t mean they don’t care. Don’t hold this thing against him forever. Communicate with your husband, Nonso. Talk to him…don’t lock him out in silence. Tell him how much it still hurts you and then ask God for the grace to release him. This bitterness could end up costing you your marriage, and it doesn’t have to.”

Tell him how much it still hurts…Nonso sighed. Opening up to her husband wasn’t as easy as it used to be, but she wanted to try. One more time. Her marriage was worth that, at least. Nonso tried to compose herself while she waited for Nnamdi to come back into the bedroom. Unaccountably nervous, she mentally ran through the conversation. How should she start? She would take him by the hand and pull him towards the bench where she now sat. Baby, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you…

“Why don’t you put your shoes away when you take them off, instead of leaving them lying around?  It’s a bit untidy, you know. Just makes everywhere look messy.” Nnamdi’s cold voice snapped Nonso out of her mental rehearsal.

He was holding up the shoes she had kicked off at the door and looking at her as if she had committed some egregious crime. Nonso’s first reaction was disbelief. Untidy? He was calling her untidy? Someone who actually chewed up toothpicks and left them lying all over the floor was calling her untidy? Anger crept in then. She shook her head and opened her mouth to respond.

Pick your battles, Nonso. Not everything is worth fighting about.

This time, the voice wasn’t Sandra’s. She knew whose it was and she resisted at first. Why should she be the one to always hold her tongue? He said and did things to hurt her all the time! If he didn’t listen to God, why should she?

Anger rests in the bosom of fools, but a soft answer turns away wrath. Speak softly, and speak gently.

With an effort, she bit back her scathing reply and looked at her husband. He had seemed to be in a good mood when she came back, but something had upset him. She knew he wasn’t really worried about her shoes and as he stood there with the offending objects in his hands and a wounded look in his eyes, Nonso suddenly realized something. He had hidden it well. So well that it had taken her months to finally see the truth. Her husband was hurting. Just as much as she was, or maybe more.  Here she was, stuck grieving for the past but her husband was grieving for the present – for they life they could have, but didn’t. For the love she so deliberately held back from him. Her heart softened, and she walked towards him. He looked at her warily as she approached. Father, help me make this right.

“I’m sorry about the shoes”, she said softly as she took them from his hands and threw them back on the floor. He would have spoken then, but she put her fingers over his mouth.

“Forget the shoes” she said softly. “I’ll put them away later. Come and sit down. I’d like to tell you something.”

Nonso leaned into her husband as they sat, and finally let him into the dark recesses of her heart. She felt relieved as she finally laid her soul bare and shed the resentment she had been carrying. As his arms encircled her, the words behind her wall of silence came pouring out. A peculiar warmth trickled down her face and it was then she realized that her husband was crying. The room was quiet, save for the sound of his sobbing and her heart flooded with compassion. His tears spoke volumes…much more than words ever could. She knew then that he had mourned their child as deeply as she had – just in a different way. They still had a lot to talk about and the road ahead would be long and filled with bumps, but for now she was content. Safe, in her husband’s arms…she was content.

Onyih Odunze

Thanks for reading! What do you think about Nonso and Nnamd's relationship? How should Nonso have handled her hurt over Nnamdi's behavior? I would really love to hear your thoughts.

Nnamdi reached for the snooze button on his phone and cursed when it buzzed just out of his reach and fell with a thud on the carpeted floor. He reluctantly climbed out of bed and picked it up. 5.30 am. Time to rise and shine.

He lay in bed silently for a few minutes and gazed at his wife while she slept, the covers carelessly thrown over her legs. Her skin glowed in the faint light from his phone screen – he teased her by calling it ‘creamy caramel’ and she would always laugh and tell him he needed better lines. The sound of her laugh had always thrilled him, and he missed hearing it. He hadn’t heard her laugh in a long time, not since the miscarriage. They had been devastated by the loss of their unborn baby, and after the initial grieving period, Nnamdi had hoped they could try again, but Nonso adamantly rejected all his advances. He couldn’t figure out why.

They had been so happy before that, but things had been…uncomfortable, tense…like the calm before the storm. The difference in their marriage was so clear that it seemed to have two different parts: Before Miscarriage and After Miscarriage. Nnamdi missed his happy wife, and he didn’t know what to do to get her back. He stretched out his hand to wake her, but the thought of her reaction stopped him. She always seemed to be irritated by him and he didn’t want the day to get off to a bad start. He sighed and climbed out of bed to start his morning routine. I hope she’s in a good mood today.

***

Nonso turned tearful eyes to Nnamdi as he pleaded.

“Baby, I’m so sorry for not being there. You don’t know how many times I’ve wished I could take it back and re-do that whole day. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you; just say you’ll forgive me.”

Sobbing, Nonso nodded and gasped when Nnamdi swept her up in his arm and twirled her around the room. He kissed her then, and she could taste her salty tears on his lips. Their kiss deepened and awoke an almost forgotten desire in her. She reached for the buttons on his shirt…

“Baby, baby, wake up. It’s almost 6.30. Aren’t you working today?”

Nnamdi’s persistent voice dragged Nonso from her dreams and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Just when it was getting to the good part. In her dreams, Nnamdi was the perfect husband – he apologized when he hurt her, showered her with gifts and made love to her like he used to in the beginning. The reality was something else entirely. She glanced at her husband and irritation flashed through her when she saw that he was already dressed. They both had a long commute to work and usually left the house before 7 a.m. Why hadn't he bothered to wake her up when he woke up? Why hadn't her alarm gone off? Or, had it? She vaguely remembered fumbling with her phone, but she brushed that aside. He should have woken her, but he didn't and that would make her late to work. She pursed her lips and was about to say just that when her friend Sandra’s voice echoed in her mind. “Pick your battles. Don’t be in a hurry to take offense at every little thing.” Nonso wondered whether it was worth starting a fight just because she had ignored her alarm and overslept. She sighed. It wasn't Nnamdi’s fault; it was just easier to blame him for everything that went wrong.

She looked up at him and the look on his face made her glad she had decided not to say anything. He looked at her warily, cautiously as though afraid that she would pounce on him like a hungry tiger would pounce on a juicy antelope and rip it to shreds.

“Say something sweet to your husband every now and then. Men have emotions too. They enjoy that stuff …just as much as we do”. Sandra’s voice again. She didn't know whether to be irritated or happy that her friend’s advice from their lunch date had apparently taken up residence in her head. Hmm...something sweet. She thought hard. She couldn't remember the last time she had done that.

“Thanks for waking me up, baby.” She guessed that was sweet enough to start with. It wouldn't be easy to undo the damage that had been done to their marriage, but she supposed she could be the bigger person and take the first step.

Nnamdi turned away from the dresser mirror where he stood adjusting his tie and sent a smile her way. “You’re welcome.”

Nonso found herself smiling back. She loved the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He really had a lovely smile, and she had missed being on the receiving end of it. On impulse, she walked the few feet from her side of the bed to where he stood and gave him a little hug.

Nnamdi looked down on his wife as she kept her arms loosely around his mid-section. He was pleasantly surprised when she had given him a pass on not waking her up early enough. He would have, but he was so afraid of her sullen moods that he had preferred to enjoy the sight of her asleep, with nary a care in the world. But now she was hugging him? It was a casual hug, more suited to acquaintances than spouses…still, it was a beginning. He felt her arms beginning to loosen and he tightened his arms around her. It was nice to hold his wife again.

He ran his hands gently down her bare arms and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. It felt so good that he gave her another. He could hear her breathing quicken and felt her tremble in his arms. He ached to kiss her, but he wasn't sure whether his good fortune would go that far. What if he tried and she blew him off? Or slapped his face? Or didn't respond? That would just kill him. It was silly to be so indecisive about kissing his wife, but she had rejected him so many times and he didn't think he could handle one more rejection. Lord, help me out here, he prayed silently. Just then, Nonso turned her face up to his in an age old signal and he could resist no more.

To be continued…

Stay tuned for the final two installments of Nonso and Nnamdi’s story…and stay inspired! As always, thanks for reading!

Onyih Odunze

Nonso tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for her friend to arrive. It was a nice, sunny day and she wished she had decided to sit outside until Sandra showed up. The rich smell of hot coffee filled her nostrils and she decided to order something while she waited. The coffeehouse hummed with energy as fellow coffee-drinkers sat at the small round tables, having conversations or busy with their iPads. She walked towards the counter and waited in line.

“I’ll have a skinny, decaf peppermint mocha”, the slender woman in front of her said.

“What size?” This from the overworked, harried barista who looked like she needed a cup of coffee herself.

“Tall, please.”

Nonso waited her turn and ordered a tall, hot chocolate – none of that skinny stuff for me! She allowed herself few indulgences and Starbucks hot chocolate was one of them – even though she had to spend an extra 30 minutes on the treadmill the next day. It’s totally worth it, though, she thought as she sipped her drink.

The door swung open and she turned around for the hundredth time, hoping to see her friend’s familiar face and was indeed rewarded with the sight of Sandra hustling in, slightly out of breath. She rushed to the table where Nonso had been waiting.

“I’m so sorry, dear. I was all set to leave the house when Jimmy decided that he wanted to have fish peppersoup with his rice, instead of stew. I had to quickly rustle up something for him. Please, vex not.” Sandra explained hurriedly.

Nonso squeezed her face teasingly. “Oh, so you were late for our date because of some man, eh? Why did he choose today of all days to place a special order? Didn’t he know you had a very important meeting?”

Sandra smiled “Hmm, my dear, don’t mind him. In fact, I’ll reprimand him when I get home and ask him to call you and explain himself. Nonsense!”

They both giggled and Sandra went to the counter to order her drink. Nonso watched as she walked back with her drink in hand and a smile on her face. Sandra always seemed so at peace and content and her demeanor contrasted sharply with the internal struggle going on inside Nonso. She watched Sandra as she sipped her drink, wondering how much she could reveal. She needed to unload some of what she was carrying, but could she trust Sandra? They had known each other for a few years and had grown close during the past year. Still, she had never discussed details of her marriage with Sandra and she wondered if this was a good time to start. What would happen if…

“Penny for them.” Sandra’s voice interrupted.

Nonso started. “Oh, I’m not sure my thoughts are worth that much.”

Sandra looked at her friend for a minute and wondered what had happened to her. The first time she met Nonso, she had written her off as one of those perky, bubbly girls who thought about nothing but fashion, reality TV and money. Over time, Nonso had proven her wrong and had revealed a deeper, sensitive side to her personality. Still, she was perky and bubbly and always had a sparkle in her eye. But, in the last few months, that sparkle seemed to disappear. She knew Nonso had suffered a devastating blow a few months ago but she had hoped that time would make a difference and bring the light back to her eyes. Apparently not, she thought, as she took in her friend’s sad smile and dropped shoulders.

She reached across the table and grasped her friend’s hands. “Nonso, what’s the matter?”

Nonso took a deep breath and decided to go all in. I have nothing to lose anyway.

“I think Nnamdi and I are heading for a divorce. No, scratch that…I think I want a divorce.”

Sandra held back her surprise at Nonso’s bald statement. She had always thought Nonso and Nnamdi made a great couple – they seemed to complement each other pretty well: Nonso was bubbly, the life of the party and Nnamdi was quieter, reserved, the listener to Nonso’s talker. Still, appearances were deceptive and many couples that looked perfect on the outside were far from it behind closed doors.

“Okay…why do you want a divorce?”

Nonso sighed and looked away, avoiding Sandra’s keen gaze. She nervously twiddled her fingers and finally looked at Sandra.

“There are so many things…little things but when you put them together, it’s like ‘why stay married to this person?’ you know?”

Sandra nodded. She had witnessed quite a few failed marriages and they all started with something small that built up gradually, like a volcano waiting to erupt.

“You know what happened when…” Nonso stopped for a second and cleared her throat, trembling with emotion “…when I had the miscarriage” she continued. Sandra nodded.

 “Well, he wasn’t there. He just left me to go through that by myself and he acted like it wasn’t a big deal. I mean, I know he was at work and all…but, he could have left it and come home. He should have known that I needed him.” Tears trickled down her face as she struggled to keep her composure.

“Well, what was his reason for not being there?” Sandra asked.

“Something to do with a very important meeting that had already been rescheduled twice. He was the Project Manager, so he couldn’t leave. He called me afterward, but it wasn’t the same”, Nonso waved her hand dismissively. What was a phone call compared to what she had been through?

A bitter smile curled her lips. “I always chuckle to myself when people say how kind and caring he is. If only they knew him the way I really do” Nonso scoffed.

Sandra bit her lip. She couldn’t imagine going through something like that on her own. Her husband had been present for the birth of each of their three children. She had never had a miscarriage, but if she had, she knew she would have wanted him to be there as well. Still, she knew that sometimes, things didn’t go as planned. She had seen the way Nnamdi looked at and treated his wife, and she didn’t think he would have done something like that on purpose. But, the look on Nonso’s face prevented her from saying anything in his defense.

“But, that’s not all” Nonso continued. “That was just the beginning – my first clue that he didn’t love me as much as I thought. Since then, it’s all gone downhill. There’s no intimacy with us anymore…not physically, per se, but emotionally. He comes home and just fades into his office, and I’m left to my own devices. He never does anything to help me around the house and he just spends all his free time playing on his computer or talking to his friends.”

Even as she poured out her heart, Nonso held herself tightly, as though to avoid unraveling completely. “What’s the point of being married, and living like I’m single?”

Nonso’s plaintive question cut Sandra to the heart. She knew from experience that marriages needed work to survive. She and Jimmy had their own share of arguments and misunderstandings, but in the end they always found a way to work things out. She opened her mouth to say just that but the waves of bitterness and resentment from Nonso were overwhelming. She prayed silently for wisdom. What could she say or do to stem the tide?

Onyih Odunze

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Come back next week Sunday for the next installment of our new series “Dreams That Fade” and find out what happens next with Nonso and Nnamdi.

As always, thanks for reading!!

She stood at the foot of the bed watching her husband as he stretched lazily, smiling sleepily at her. The delicate blue Waterford duvet didn’t quite cover his body and she looked admiringly at his lean, long body as he turned this way and that.

“Hey, honey.”

Something stirred in her. His voice still did something to her even after all this time…even after everything.

“Hey’, she replied softly.

“Want to join me for a nap?” he asked in a thinly disguised invitation.

She chuckeld lightly in spite of herself. “No time for that. I have to finish cooking so we can get ready for Ike’s wedding. I just came upstairs to grab my hair net. I don’t want you  to find strands of my lovely, nappy hair in your food” she teased.

“Okay. Wake me up in a couple of hours, please? Let me grab a little more sleep.”

She nodded. She had stopped asking him to set the alarm on his iPhone. He always insisted that ‘his human alarm’ was a much sweeter wake-up than a beeping phone. Well, it used to be…in those days – the early days when she couldn’t get enough of him, nor him of her. Not anymore. Now, things were different.

She had barely turned to leave the room when she heard him snoring softly, ‘like a piglet’ she used to tease. Now, she struggled to contain the irritation that flashed through her when she looked at or thought about her handsome, kind, popular, generous husband.

She turned one last time to look at his sleeping form and a thought reverberated through her mind.

I wish I could get a divorce.

***

She swiped her arm across her forehead before stirring the pot of oha soup bubbling on the stove. She replaced the cover and turned her attention to the stir-fry on the left burner. At the same time, her mind was on the chicken baking in the oven. As her eyes strayed to the wall clock, she wondered if she had taken on too much. She always liked to do her cooking on Saturdays…well, maybe ‘liked’ wasn’t the correct word – she had to do her cooking on Saturdays because there never seemed to be any time during the week, what with working a regular, full-time job outside the home. She felt like she was always chasing the clock, trying to catch up and never quite managing to.

A sigh escaped her as her eyes strayed to the clock again ‘2 o’clock already! I hope I finish in time for the wedding.’They had been invited to a friend’s wedding and she didn’t want to miss it. It was tough trying to fit a social life around her busy schedule, but somehow she found a way to do it.  Sometimes, it meant a few late nights in the kitchen, or cutting corners with her chores, or missing a couple of Sunday services, but she always consoled herself with the thought that person no be firewood  - she needed to kick back and relax whenever she could. Hunger pangs reminded her that she hadn’t eaten, and she quickly made herself a ham and tomato sandwich. She never liked to arrive hungry at an event. It helped her avoid over-eating and aided her efforts to maintain her trim figure. As she sat at the breakfast nook, eating her sandwich and watching images flash by on the small flat-screen tv in the kitchen, a feeling of loneliness overwhelmed her.

She glanced at the giant potrait hanging on the opposite wall – the happy bride with the delirious expression seemed almost like a stranger , as did the man into whose eyes she gazed adoringly. Nonso & Nnamdi, the inscription read – A Forever Love.

“I wish I could get a divorce…”

***

Onyih Odunze

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Come back on Sunday for the next installment of our new series “Dreams That Fade” and find out what happens next with Nonso and Nnamdi. As always, thanks for reading!!

It was 30 years ago: She was 24 and he was 29. She was an English major, with aspirations to take the media world by storm. Broadcasting, hosting and producing talk shows, producing and directing movies. It was her life's passion-until she met him. He was an Accountant, working hard to become chartered and juggling his employment at First Bank, with his political dreams. It was love at first shove, for that was how they met. She accidentally shoved him aside as she hurried through the halls of the First Bank on Ajose Adeogun street VI. She had an interview at Rhythm FM, and she needed to make the payment for the fees required to embark on her Masters degree in Mass communication & Media management at the University of Lagos. Her life was all planned out, for thereafter, it would be off to the states for a 6 month course in movie production at the Royal Arts Academy. Such well thought out plans, but she didn't plan on love. Oh no, she didn't.

Suffice it to say, 9 months later, she said "I do" to her dashing dude. He had advised her to obtain a study leave from her job as a news editor, and focus on her Masters program which would be gruelling , he said. The radio station declined to accede to her request and he urged her to resign. He could comfortably handle the family finances. So she did. Five months into her Masters program and one month after their wedding, they discovered she was with child. It was not in the plan at the time, but he had been opposed to family planning contraceptives and ill-disciplined in his condom/withdrawal use and techniques. Her gravid state was horrendous. Constantly bed-ridden, swollen, nauseous, with a blood pressure that sky-rocketed at the slightest provocation, she could not comply with the attendance requirements and was not eligible to take her semester exams. Not that she was prepared to.

Her first set of twins arrived one dreary Saturday morning, and she smiled through her tears as she beheld her scrawny little beauties. He was elated. Everyone was overjoyed.

Two years passed. Aurora & Adele grew and left a wake of playful destruction in their path. Work and school was out of the question for her. Who could adequately care for her precious angels if she went back to work?

Mya Blaq, dear friend and sister, gently nudged her to consider restarting her Masters program which had been long deferred. She considered it, but not too seriously. Then he, now chartered was off to the UK for his Masters in Political Science& Third World economies; he had to build his resume, he explained. Money would not be a problem. So he went, and she bade him a forlorn farewell. She would visit mid-year, he promised. Six weeks after he was gone, she found out, he done did it. She was two months along. Another set of twins. Another 39 weeks of endurance; with two angels to boot. How could she leave now?

And so the babies came. Abel & Andrew; sons! He was ecstatic. His mother had to move in with her on a permanent basis. He finished his Masters and was offered a scholarship to undertake his PhD while working as a Lecturer. The lines where falling unto him in pleasant places indeed. Wasn't God a good God? So he stayed, and built his resume; politics would soon come knocking. The girls were five and the boys were two. They came a-visiting. It was a riot. She gingerly inquired as to their future plans. Perhaps she should apply for a Masters in the UK too. Start moving things along. But, all he wanted lay between her legs. She went to pop a pill; he apprehended her and blew a gasket. "Pills? Why? Not get pregnant again? Why? We should have a quiver full of them, shouldn't we? Money is not an issue, is it? Come my love, come give your honey some good luvin". So she did. And did get her fertile self pregnant yet again.

He concluded his PhD, and it was off for a fellowship at the International Institute of Leadership; he was accepted as an assistant scholar at the Foreign Policy Research Institute, a member of the Free Africa Foundation, and another fellowship at the Hoover Institution. Back at home, he was on the board of the Lagos Business School and several high powered institutions. People began to take notice and before long he was being courted by political parties, conglomerates and universities. His dream was on!

Their children grew and thrived, best schools, best clothes, best vacations. She, their mother, grew and thrived too- just in a different way than she had expected. She let herself go and added pounds to her previously slender frame. The birth of her last baby, Antwon had left her depressed and defeated. She let herself go. After all who was there to notice? Her life was encapsulated in her children's world. From school runs to party runs to hospital runs to shopping runs to Sunday school runs to vacation runs, it was an unending cycle. Mindless routine that left her un stimulated. She turned down more and more offers to socialise, spent less and less time aprising herself of the going ons in the global world, and slowly faded into insignificance- except to her children of course! But children leave too- they grow up and move on, they love you, but they can't be your babies forever; & neither should you desire them to.

So he's 59 and she's 54. It is time. He has risen through the ranks and has been chosen as the running mate to the presidential hopeful in PDP. He has been promised a dash for presidency after loyal service as a Vice President. He watches her waddle to the lounge, bearing a tray of fruits. He is still dapper and handsome, coming into his own, with a groomed grey beard. He shakes his head and clears his throat.

"With our campaign picking up, I don't think its necessary for you to put yourself out there. I have an image to maintain and darling, you don't quite fit. Why don't you travel for a bit till we are done, so it won't be embarrassing for both of us to explain your absence, or..."

She can't quite believe her ears. "Or what?" Tears gather and quickly spill over. "Or what you ungrateful bastard?!"

He is taken aback. "Ungrateful? Me? What did you ever want that I didn't give you?"

"My life! I wanted my life, damn you! Why don't you go marry another wife who fits, hmmm?!" She flings the tray and stomps off in as dignified a manner as her extra pounds would permit.

He shakes his head in bewilderment. Women! And I do all this for her!

And so they remained: he in his high flying lifestyle and she, an old woman at 54. She toyed with thoughts of leaving. But dreams deferred had taken their toll - where would she go? What would she do? How could she start all over again at her age? So, she stayed while he jetted around the world. She watched while he wined and dined. She dreamt while he lived.

When she died in self imposed exile from her matrimonial home a year later, everyone shook their heads sadly. So young, they said. Only 55, they cried. Then they wiped their eyes and consoled themselves with one final thought 'At least she lived a full life'.

Bob Oji

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“Good morning, Papa”, Nnedi greeted her father as she waddled into the room in the fashion of the heavily pregnant.

Her father looked up from his newspaper and smiled at her. “Good morning, Nne. How are you feeling today?”

Nnedi didn’t miss the concern that laced his words. She had colluded with her mother and lied to him for months, yet he had forgiven her and offered her his strength and support even though she didn’t deserve it.

“I’m fine, Papa.  I think I’m doing better now that everything is out in the open.” Everyone that counted now knew the truth…everyone except the one person who had the most to lose – or gain – depending on how he took the news. She sat on the couch closest to the window and peered outside through the iron bars. The overcast sky cast a pall on the room and made it seem like it was early evening instead of mid-morning. She had told her father that she was fine, but she really wasn’t. She had confessed to her father and that was hard enough, but the worst part was still ahead of her.

Unknown to her at the time, her father had contacted her husband, Tobenna once news had come that the baby had been born. Since her father assumed the baby was hers, he had immediately called Tobenna with the news. It was the same day that she had come home and finally told her father the truth. If only I had told Papa the truth earlier. I might have bought some more time…maybe the baby would have come early. But was that really what she wanted? To buy time for more lies? Wasn’t it better to have the truth out once and for all? It had been exhausting trying to maintain the lies she had told – hiding Nkasi from her father, pretending to be pregnant, then finding out that she really was pregnant. Maybe Tobe will surprise me and not take it too hard. A picture flashed through her mind, an angry face…fists raised, furious questions pouring out from his raging mouth “Who are you? Who are you?” Would a husband like that listen to her explanation, weak though it was?

After receiving her father’s message, Tobe had called and excitedly told her he would be at the village as soon as possible. Her heart pounded as he talked and she almost blurted out the truth right then and there. But, fear held her tongue. Besides, wouldn’t it better to tell him in person? She had pressed him to tell her exactly when he would arrive, but he kept saying he wasn’t sure of what his schedule would be like.

“Ah, why do you want to know the exact day? Do I need an appointment to see my wife and baby?” he had asked almost angrily.

“No, my husband’, she demurred. “I just want to know so that we can be ready for you.”

Mollified, he had calmed down. “Okay, okay. Well, don’t worry about that. Just expect me in the next one week, okay?”

He would be here any day. Which day? She wished she knew so that she could prepare herself for the coming onslaught.

***

The house was too quiet.  Her father had left for the parsonage earlier to attend to some church business. Her mother had been away for a few days, visiting her elderly parents and Nkasi was supposed to come home the next day so she was home alone. A sense of stillness hung in the air, but she felt something brewing. Almost like the calm before a storm. Restless and uncomfortable in the silence, Nnedi heaved herself up from the couch, walked towards the TV console and browsed through the DVDs of mostly Nollywood movies. Just what I need. The outrageous storylines would definitely take her mind off her own issues. Naked Saint 3…No, she wasn’t in the mood for any saints, naked or otherwise. She picked up another one – Trinity. No…After the Wedding. Yeah, that might work. Maybe I can get some clues about how to deal with this my wahala. She slotted the DVD in and stretched out lazily on the couch. I’ll just watch the movie for a while and go upstairs later, she thought sleepily.

She barely got through what felt like dozens of movie trailers before sleep claimed her. She dozed fitfully until a sharp, persistent sound intruded. Shrill and insistent, the sound continued until she sat up drowsily. It was the doorbell. Maybe Papa is back, she thought. He would usually just let himself in, but maybe he forgot his key at home. Or, maybe it was someone for her mother. She dragged herself up with some effort and opened the door.

She gasped at the sight of a familiar and dreaded face. “Tobe!”

His smile wavered at the sight of her protruding belly and he nervously transferred his suitcase from one hand to the other.

“Where’s the baby?” he asked excitedly.

“I’m fine, Tobenna. Thank you for asking.” He frowned at her and wagged his finger in her face. “I won’t take that your sarcasm, madam”, he said testily and sarcastically himself. “It’s like you’ve been growing wings since you’ve been here without me, but don’t worry. I’m here now, and soon we will all be back in Lagos so everything will be back to normal.”

He pushed her aside and walked into the house.

“Where is the baby?” he asked again as he loosened his tie.

She looked at him, resplendent in his expensive suit and shiny shoes - dressed to the nines, all for a trip to the village to see his wife. His image was important to him and he tried to control everything and everyone around him so that they would reflect positively on him. She studied him in silence as he put his briefcase down on the tiled floor and looked around curiously. He walked towards the adjoining dining room barely pausing at the single step that separated the two and she followed him quietly. He stopped when he realized there was no one there and turned towards her.

“Where is the baby?” By now, his tone was edgy and Nnedi could tell that he was getting irritated. Father, help me.

“She’s at the hospital,” she answered in a careful tone.

He didn’t hide his disappointment at the reminder that the baby was a girl. “I should have known that was all you’re good for,” he muttered derisively. Gone was the jocular man who she had known for a few short weeks, who had treated her kindly and showered her with attention.

He glanced at her in contempt. “So, why are you here if your daughter is in the hospital? Is she not well?”

“She’s doing just fine. She’s with her mother.”

Confused, Tobe looked at her as if to make sure she was being serious. Finally, he laughed. “I see that you’re going crazy. I should have known sending you to the village was a bad idea. What do you mean she is with her mother? Bia, woman, you better start making sense otherwise I’ll bundle you back to Lagos and send you to the madhouse where you belong.”

Nnedi breathed deeply and told her husband the truth, at last. “I remember you asking me a question once. Who are you? you asked. Who was I? You asked the question and you gave the answer. You called me barren and I believed you. I believed you and I lost all hope. I lost my faith and I grabbed at the only chance I saw. A chance to be a mother. I deceived you in the beginning and I’m sorry about that. But, in the end God answered our prayers,” Nnedi explained.

Tobe was filled with rage as he looked at the pregnant woman that stood in front of him. She had deceived him! He should have known better when she kept insisting on coming to the village. He felt stupid as he thought of all the preparations he had made to receive his newborn son. His house maid’s child would have lived there, bearing his name and enjoying his money! And now the witch was pregnant and claiming that God had answered his prayers! What did that mean? He suppressed his rage as he looked around carefully. He wanted to make sure no one else was at home before he unleashed the fury that was even now building inside him. Did this girl think she could foist someone else’s bastard on him to raise? No way! He decided to wring every ounce of truth from her lying lips before showing her a taste – just a taste of his anger. After all, he was in someone else’s house. A house he had built, true, but he had to be careful all the same.

His hands shook with rage as he clenched them at his side. “What do you mean, God answered our prayers?”

Nnedi felt hope stirring within her. He was curious…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. He looked relatively calm and that gave her more hope. Tobe never held his temper when he was angry. If he was really angry, she would have felt it by now.

“Don’t you see? I’m pregnant, Tobe! Over six months along. It must have happened on one of those nights just before Nkasi and I left.”

Tobe couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did she really expect him to buy that? They had been trying for over two years with no luck – then, all of a sudden, she gets pregnant after spending months away from home?

She tried again to reason with him. “My husband – “ a sharp slap caught her on her right cheek and robbed her of words. Stunned, she looked at him as despair found a familiar spot in her heart. I should have known.

“Who are you calling your husband?” he screamed in rage. “You think you can give me your boyfriend’s baby? Do you think I’m a fool, eh?”

“Tobe, please. I swear. It’s your baby. I would never –“

Another sharp crack as his hand landed on her face again. She shielded her child with her hands as her husband’s fury spilled out. She felt herself falling, falling and she tried to break her fall with her hands. In the distance, she heard a door opening and someone yelling. She felt hands pulling her husband away from her. A brief struggle. A thud. A crack. Then, everything went black.

***

Eight months later

Nnedi cooed to her son as she rocked him to sleep. Filled with a joyful love for the little baby in her arms, she gently caressed his baby soft skin. His birth had been a miracle. After her husbands’ assault, she had been rushed to the hospital where she was treated for her injuries. The doctor had stabilized her and kept her in the hospital until the baby was born. She had prayed endlessly every day she had lain in that hospital bed. Father, please bring my child out safely. Please let him, or her be healthy and whole. Don’t let this baby suffer for Tobe’s sins. And God had answered. Her son had been born whole and healthy. Perfect. She gazed at her son adoringly. Who would have thought that this would happen? That after being called barren for so long, she would be here holding her son?

Her son’s head drooped and his breathing deepened. Smiling, she walked into the adjoining nursery and gently placed him in his crib. She walked back to her room and pressed the little button beside her bed and Olachi, the new house maid came in a few minutes later.

“Madam, you ring bell?”

“Yes, Ola. The babies are sleeping and I need you to watch them. I need to go and check on him.”

She had adopted Nkasi’s baby as promised and had given her enough money to set herself up in a small business. The girl was grateful to move on with her life and Nnedi hadn’t seen or heard from her again since then. If the household staff wondered why she had come back with two babies born three months apart, they wisely kept their speculations to themselves. She loved her two children and took equal delight in both of them. God has blessed me, she smiled to herself as she walked down the hallway. She knocked on the last door, paused for a second and entered.

The doctors had advised them to keep him at home because there was nothing more they could do. He had suffered a permanent brain injury when he cracked his head on the tiled floor after her father had tackled him. They had converted an entire wing of the huge mansion to a hospital suite, customized for his special needs. A nurse came every week to check up on him and she made sure that someone always sat with him. He had to be fed and changed regularly because he could no longer do those things on his own.

Nnedi walked to the foot of the bed and gently shook the young man who watched over her husband.

“Duke, you can take a break now. I’ll sit with him for a while.”

The boy scrambled to his feet, embarrassed to have been caught napping. He bobbed his head. “Yes, madam.”

Nnedi waited until the door clicked shut behind him before she started speaking. The doctors said he couldn’t respond to them, but she talked to him anyway. He had been a cruel husband and an evil man, but God had helped her to release all the anger and bitterness from her heart. She looked at Tobe as he lay, helpless, his eyes following her every move, seething with hatred.

“Your son is doing well. He’s almost six months now and everyone says he is your spitting image. His sister is growing so big. That one is going to be a heartbreaker…”

And so she sat, finally free of her violent husband yet tied to him forever through the beautiful child that they shared. She finally knew who she was – a woman of value, a child of God, a joyful mother of children. Yes, she knew who she was.

"Do not hasten in your spirit to be angry, for anger rests in the bosom of fools" Ecclesiastes 7:9 (King James Version)

Onyih Odunze

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“Madam, what will happen to me now? she had asked as she eyed Nnedi’s thickened waist.

Nnedi sighed. She had wanted to avoid this discussion until she could sort out the details in her mind.

“Don’t worry, Nkasi. Our deal still stands. After the baby is born, I will give you the N150, 000 as promised and you can decide what you want to do.”

A look of relief had flitted over Nkasi’s face and she nodded. “Thank you, Madam.”

Nnnedi listened to her heavy tread as she walked away, weighed down by the growing baby inside her. Nnedi’s dilemma weighed heavily on her heart. What am I to do? When she had concocted this crazy plan, she had no idea that she would get pregnant. After two years of being called barren, she had begun to believe it and had grasped desperately at what she thought was her only chance to become a mother – adopting her house help’s baby and lying to her husband that she was pregnant.

How was she to know that the news of impending fatherhood would transform her husband from the violent man who struck her in anger to one who spoke to her with something close to affection? Those few weeks following her ‘announcement’ were the happiest days of her marriage. She blushed when she remembered her body’s ardent response to her husband’s passionate advances. She must have gotten pregnant on one of those nights.

At first, she had feigned affection in order to sweeten her husband up so that he would let her travel to the village with Nkasi – the success of the entire plan depended on that. But, starved for love and affection, she had soaked up the tender words and gentle touches of her husband. She knew it wasn’t real – he only loved her because he thought she was pregnant. She knew all of that would vanish in an instant and he would beat her black and blue if he ever found out the truth.  Conflicting thoughts about her husband pulled at her heart – she hated the man who abused her and tore her down for his pleasure…who destroyed her spirit just because he could. But she had seen glimpses of the man he could be and she wanted to know that man…to love him and have him love her. Still, the rational part of her mind knew he wouldn’t once he found out the truth, and she didn’t think she could live a life based on the lies she had constructed.

What am I going to do? How do I explain two babies, or the fact that I’m still 6 months pregnant when I should be giving birth by now?

“Madam?” Nkasi’s feeble query made her realize that she had spoken her thoughts out loud. Embarrassed, Nnedi cast a glance at Dr. Chiz who had turned from examining the baby. Nnedi forced a smile to her face.

“Oh, don’t worry Nkasi. Just get some rest. I’ll go home now, but I’ll come back and see you again tomorrow.”

Nnedi thanked the doctor and was rewarded with a kind smile and his promise that Nkasi would be well taken care of. Dr. Chiz is such a nice man, she thought. He had always been patient with them during all the pre-natal visits and had taken his time to answer all their questions. Why didn’t God bless me with a kind, gentle man like that, she wondered as she walked the short distance from Jasman Hospital hospital to her parents’ home.

Sweating and winded, she pushed open the front door and heaved her girth up the single stair into the large living room. The walk had been more difficult than she thought. She turned on the fan and sat down tiredly. The fan turned lazily and barely stirred the still, humid air in the room. She picked up a magazine from the stack on the side table and fanned herself. She needed a cold drink, but the thought of walking another step was too much to contemplate so she decided to sit and rest for a bit.

She was dozing fitfully when her father burst into the room “Nne, Nne…are you home already?” His confused glance bounced around the living room before finally landing on her still-round stomach. She realized that he had gotten news that the baby had arrived and was expecting Nnedi to still be in the hospital with the baby. What have I done? Nnedi asked herself again. She had lied to her father, who had loved her and raised her in a Christian home. She had schemed with her house help and her mother to pass off someone else’s pregnancy as her own. She had given Nkasi strict instructions to stay in the guest house so as not to raise her father’s curiosity about the pregnant house help. She reminded herself that she had done it for a good reason. He would have killed me! At least the pregnancy bought me some time. She had done it for a good reason, she reminded herself again. But, was the reason good enough? As she watched her father’s confusion, she realized that she had to come clean. He deserved that much.

“Papa, please sit down. I need to tell you something.” As she waited for her father to sit, Nnedi braced herself for the difficult task ahead.

Her father listened in silence as she talked. The expression on his face tightened as she spoke of the abuse she had suffered at the hands of her husband, but still he never said a word. His mouth pursed as she spoke of her fears, and feelings of helplessness, but still he listened quietly until she finished. Finally, when he saw that she was spent, he held her hands in his.

“Nne, why didn’t you tell me? I’m your father. Why did you keep this all to yourself?

The combination of her childhood nickname, his gentle tone and his lack of recrimination for her lies opened a wellspring inside her. She fell into her father’s open arms and sobbed. The tears wouldn’t stop and as she cried, she felt cleansed. For the first time in a long time, she felt the stirring of hope within her. Desperate, she clung to that thin thread of hope and prayed that God would sort out the tangled mess she had created.

Onyih Odunze

This story is taking longer than I thought! Please come back next Sunday and see what happens when Nnedi comes face-to-face with her husband in the concluding part of ‘Who Are You?’!

Stay tuned after that for Sonia’s story (Grace’s sister from Marital Dance and Finding Grace). Thanks for reading!!

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