A Promise From My Heart

4.

Our drive home was quiet. Amatullah said nothing to me. She just stared outside as though the view outside was more appealing than me in the car. I never liked the ignorance. It hurts in a way that felt like some sharp object was being twisted in my chest. Whenever I call her name, what I got was silence. When we got home, she got down from the car, venting her anger on the door as she closed it. Going after her was going be a waste of time. Talking to her would be like talking to a brick. Whatever had happened between us had infuriated her.

The living room was empty when I walked in. I took a seat in the armchair and waited. I waited for the right time when I will thread up those staircase and finally talk to my wife without have my head cut off. I let out a low laugh. She won't do such thing but she will not make it easy for me.

I found her settled on the bed. She had changed her clothes to something more comfortable, her phone in hand. She was typing. The speed at which her fingers moved gave away her fury. What can I say that will not fuel her fury? I can start with an apology.

"Onitemi." My pet name for her floated from my lips. I got no reply. She continued to type on her phone, paying no attention to me. "Amy." I called again, halting right beside her. "I am sorry." She got up, leaving the phone on the nightstand. I caught her arm before she whizzed past me.

"I want to be alone." She snatched her arm. When she proceeded to walk away, I rushed to block her way. She drilled me with condemning eyes and stepped to the right. I did the same thing. When her eyes met mine, I winced. The inflexibility of those eyes were enough to make me take a step back. Those eyes were hard rimmed and fixed on mine so much that her eyeballs appeared like they were held into position.

"I am sorry, Onitemi."

"I asked you a simple question, Yusuf. A simple question." She started. "Why do you always have to ignore everything that has to do with our babies?" Her eyes blazed.

"I can't answer that but I am sorry if my words pissed you off." I said hoping the sincerity I felt saying those words would be seen.

"If you can't give me an answer then forget about it." She wanted to walk out on me but this time I took her arm turning her around. "Leave me alone." She shot me a murderous glare. "If you can't tell me then just forget about it." She fumed.

What excuse should I give? I did not want to say something that will annoy her or make her angry. I was careful not to say words that could cause an uproar. Should I tell her it's because I am scared of the new journey we are threading to? That does not make sense. It's like I am encouraging her to keep thinking she's pregnant. But I can't tell her she is not pregnant. I rubbed the back of my neck. Amatullah shook her head, disappointment in her eyes. She could not believe I had no answer to her question. When she took her hand from my hold, she began to walk out on me. I don't like it when she does that.

"It is because you are not pregnant, Amy." I spoke with the foolish thought that telling her that might knock the bitter reality into her head.

She came to an abrupt stop. The muscles in her back turned rigid. I could tell from the way her shoulders tensed. Subhanallah, what have I done? She twirled to look at me. My Adam apple bobbed. She stared at me with an expression that was as blank as a paper. I could not read her lovely face. Silence dropped in upon us. The kind that made me cold. How is she going to react? I opened and closed my hand. I could hear the heavy flow of air escaping my nostrils.

This silence was terrifying. It was like a bomb that will explode soon. And it did. It was interrupted by a thunderous sound reverberating through the room. I knew what it was because I could feel my left cheek burn. The skin in that area felt hot. My wife just slapped me. The physical pain was nothing like the emotional ache. It was like someone just sliced me.