Jumoke

3: 7 years later

Jumoke

HOW DO YOU fall in love with a man you barely saw? A man who spent more time outside his home than he did inside with the excuse of raking more income for the family that he barely saw to have a lavish life.

"Where are you going this time?" I asked Emeka who was folding clothes into a black duffel bag.

I did my best to hide the disdain in my voice to avoid being termed a naggy wife but his eyebrows still rose, his movements stilled and he folded his arms across his chest. I was ashamed to look at my husband of seven years, seven miserable years of loneliness and joblessness; his face looked as young as it did on our wedding day, his body a big contrast to the mushroom of a man I exchanged marital vows with.

His tummy was flatter whereas mine was bloated, his saggy breasts had reduced to admirable man boobs while mine laid heavy and full on my chest, thanks to baby number three on its way. I had nothing to do with his weight loss journey except for the continual insults I hurled at him whenever he tried to get touchy with me.

"Don't touch me," I shouted at a bewildered Emeka when he reached for my arms; three years into our marriage and I was already a professional at talking back at him, an expert at denying him of sex.

When his calm façade didn't crack, I scornfully added, "you are fat, you disgust me. You might have been able to win over my family with your wealth but you will never have my love, I hate you."

My insult was rewarded with the reaction I was aiming for, a gasp of horror and arms clutching at his chest as he stared into my stone-cold eyes. Emeka was a man of few words and intense care but I could never bring myself to reciprocate such emotions, every good, romantic deed was rewarded with endless complaints and cold meals.

"Everything I do is to make you and Adanna happy," he whisper-yelled before walking out of the room like the weak man he was, a coward who refused to fight back.

The next time I saw Emeka was six months after and with a body that looked like it belonged on someone else; he was trimmed, his body fat replaced with lean muscles, his ill-fitted suits upgraded to a style more befitting for a man in his position. For the first time since our marriage, he was appealing to the eyes, looking nothing like his true age of 46; four weeks later, I was pregnant with baby number two.

"I'm going to Dubai," his voice pulled me back from memory lane, face softening at the frown on my lips.

"I want to work," this was an argument we had had a countless number of times, the reason why we went weeks without speaking to each other.

"Why?" He raised a hand to jaw filled with white beards, staring into space like the answer to his question was hidden in a portal only him could see. "I pay you every month, provide everything you and the children need, why do you want to work?"

"Because I'm tired of staying indoors doing nothing but taking care of the kids. I want more, I didn't spend four years in the university to become a housewife," I shouted at the top of my voice, tears leaking out from my eyes.

I spent those four years of my life as an accounting student burning the midnight candle; I studied while everyone partied because I knew what was at risk, the responsibilities at home that were waiting for me. I didn't graduate with a first-class so I could sit in the house of a man who couldn't bear the thought of his wife working.

"If the chores are giving you issues, hire a maid."

"So, you can sleep with that one too?" The maids never lasted a month before they had to be sacked, everyone wanted a taste of my 50-year-old husband who was willing to indulge in their sexual desires. Tired of the repetitive circle of hiring and firing, I had resolved to do the chores myself, putting a stop to his philandering until I stumbled on his messages with Sarah.

"Maybe if you let me touch you when I want to, I wouldn't have to look elsewhere." He edged closer to me, his fingers hovering above my cheeks when I flinched at our proximity, "after this child, I'll open a boutique for you."

Offering him a genuine smile, I let him rub my baby bump, this was our first time of reaching a consensus on this issue. "Are you going with Sarah?"

"Yes." His voice was a whisper and involuntarily I stepped back from him, he didn't protest nor attempt to reach for me again.

Sarah was his new PA, I wasn't aware of the new change until I chanced upon their messages; there was nothing professional about their relationship, the calls at ungodly hours, the nude pictures of herself and hotel appointments they booked.

"You know she's my assistant, she has to be everywhere I go."

We both knew it was a lie as Sarah was good at only three things - blowjobs, hotel appointments and keeping his weight in check.

"Fine. Have a safe trip, don't forget to say bye-bye to the kids."

Without sparing him a glance, I plopped onto the bed, pulling the blanket over my head. I didn't respond when he bade me farewell nor change position at the loud bang when he closed the door. It was moments like this that made me think of Kunle, his kind words and soothing touches; I stayed that way until someone pulled the blanket from under me.

"Mummy, I want to eat biscuit." My annoyance quickly evaporated at the sight of my first-born child, Ada. She was the pride and joy of Emeka, his favourite kid, she had my face but her father's eyes, wise eyes as he would fondly say; the smile on her face broadened, colour rushed to her chubby cheeks, she was beautiful.

"Me too mummy," it was Chime's turn to speak, his little fingers pulling gently on my toes. Chime was very cute, wise for his young age of 3; they were both happy children who knew nothing about their parent's constant arguments, the only stability in my life and I was forever grateful to be their mother.

"It's okay. We will stop by the supermarket," I told them with an encouraging smile that soon transformed into a loud laugh at Chime's two seconds happy dance.

**********

"Madam, it's ₦10,700." The cashier said; he was wearing a shirt that had the Palm logo of the Supermarket emblemed on its centre.

I reached into my purse for the numerous ₦1,000 bills that were inside when Ada rushed past me with a cart that had her brother inside. The teenage cashier was momentarily forgotten as I jogged after them, panting heavily when I finally caught up to them; I was disarmed by their apologetic cheeky grins after threatening to keep their biscuits for myself.

Gripping their hands in each of mine, we trotted back to an unimpressed cashier who was soon beguiled by Ada's legendary toothy smile. Her attention was quickly captured by the sound of the band playing from the overhead speakers at each corner of the mall, her thumb in her lips as she swayed from side to side.

Chime was bouncing on his toes and I knew he would take off again the moment I let go of his left hand, hence, I held on to him while struggling to pay with just one hand. The grunts that came from those unhappy customers waiting behind only added to my disorientation and some of the bills in my hand escaped to the tiled floor.

"Please. Let me pay," a masculine voice volunteered from behind me, his minty breath fanning down my ears.

Suddenly, the band crescendoed and everywhere went silent, chills ran down my spine, my palms became sweaty and Chime's grasp slipped from mine.

Could it be?

Working up courage, I swirled to face the owner of the all too familiar voice, the wind knocking out of me at the presence that stood before me.

My knees felt like jelly and the movements of everyone around us slowed to a halt, their faces blurring until the only identifiable person was Kunle. Resting both hands on the counter to steady myself, I let my eyes roam his face, unlocked memories spilling out from my heart's archive like evils from the pandora box.

It felt just like yesterday when he kissed me goodbye at the bus stop with a promise to see me soon. He had not changed much; his body had filled out a little and he was more muscular. He had full beards now but they only added to his allure as a sexy man.

Subconsciously, I smoothed the front of my flower-patterned loose gown that was thankfully hiding the bump of my growing belly. Certain that I could handle his surprising appearance, I spared him another look.

He still had that smile.