Tales with no titles(5)

I cleared the table and carried the plates to the kitchen. It was a lot and I struggled, Ella offered to help. “Aunty let me assist you,” She said.
I smiled as I let her, she was barely fifteen years old, smart, and full of life. She knew also, she knew I struggled to fit in and that all eyes were on me suspiciously. We headed to the kitchen and I began to wash the plates. We all just had lunch and the plates were a heap. My nieces could have done the dishwashing but I chose to do it, I needed a distraction and a break from the crowd. I needed time to think and properly prepare myself for the coming accusations. I was so sure there were going to be accusations.
It was Christmas. The house was full. All of my siblings and their families were around. It was a yearly ritual, we all came home with our families to spend Christmas with our parents. A few of our aunties and sometimes uncles joined too. It was always a party. I loved coming home, or better still, I used to enjoy coming home to my family after the stress of the whole year but this year, was different. Different because first, I came alone. Secondly, I was making a big decision, one that the majority of the family frowned against. It was going to be a long weekend.
“Oghenefejiro!” It was my mom. I knew it was time, I thought I would be able to buy some time with the plates washing but apparently, it didn’t work.
I sighed deeply, stared at Ella and she smiled faintly, her eyes reassuring. I don’t know but something about those eyes strengthened me and I rinsed my hands as I headed to the sitting room. As expected the whole family was seated and the only space left was beside my uncle, Tega. I hated him and I never hid that I did, I always made sure to stay far from him even if we were in the same space. I had no option now, I sat beside him on the sofa and I gave him a gravely disgusting look that made him turn away abruptly. He was scared of me, I saw it in his eyes. It made me feel triumphant. If all I ever got from what he did to me was this fear? It was better than nothing.
I rested my back and I looked up to the ceiling, no longer the locally made wooden one I grew up knowing, now it was POP, courtesy of my eldest brother three years ago. He had changed and modernized a lot of things in the house and my mother adored him more each passing day. He had always been her favorite, she never admitted when my sister, Ivie accused her of it but we all knew, and he loved her specially too because even after he gave my dad and her equal looking envelopes loaded with cash, he sneaked to give her some more when nobody was watching. He did that every time he was around, somehow we knew.

My father cleared his throat as he moved to the edge of the single sofa he sat bending forwards as he rubbed his hands together, he did that whenever he wanted to address something important. Today, I was that important thing to be addressed. “I am happy that all of you are here today because the issue about to be addressed is something we need a full house for. As a family, it is important that we put our heads together to solve this matter because it is beyond me and Beatrice.” Beatrice was my mother’s name and since we had extended family in our midst, he used it. He would have used “your mother” if it were just me and my siblings. “Ejiro is leaving her husband. She wants to end her marriage.” He said finally. The room went silent and the only noise I could hear was that of my nieces and nephews playing in the compound. At that moment, I wished I was them, young and carefree without any reasonable problem to worry about. Uncle Tega moved his feet uneasily and I stared at him, dared him to say a word with my eyes. He shrugged as he remained mute. My mother folded her arms across her chest as she sighed loudly, “I don’t know why you must always be the different one. Do you want to kill me this girl? Which woman leaves her marriage? Ehn which woman? Are you possessed Hei Oghene…” she dragged the last word as if to ask Oghene, God to come and save her, probably from me or from my announcement of leaving my husband.
My eldest brother, the one who was my mother’s favorite spoke after, his voice calm yet solid, “Ejiro can you tell us why you want a divorce. What is the problem…” My mother cut him short or maybe he was done I wouldn’t know but she suddenly stood up, her voice louder “Divorce? Oghenefejiro is that what you want? You want to become a divorcee? Hiee my enemies have finally gotten me. What will people say? That I have a daughter who cannot stay in her husband’s house?” I rolled my eyes as I sat. I expected her dramatic reaction, it wasn’t something that was strange to me. “Answer your brother Ejiro. Tell us why” my father said. He didn’t calm my mother down as he usually would, he just ignored and she sat forcefully after her outburst. “He is cheating on me. I say cheating because it is a continuous act and I cannot take it anymore.” I said, my voice low. So low I almost could not recognize it myself. Maybe it was low because I was trying to suppress the intense anger that boiled inside me. “That is not enough for you to want to leave him now…there’s no marriage that doesn’t have challenges. You are a woman, you should strive to keep your home.” It was my paternal aunt, Onome. I shook my head, I had the urge to slap her so hard she would fall off the chair. Was using juju on her husband and his side piece also part of keeping her home? Years ago she had gone to a native doctor to get a charm that would catch her husband with his concubine only for it to end up killing him. He died right on top of the other woman. In her defense, she had just wanted to catch him and never meant for him to die. The whole family knew this story but nobody dared to bring it up perhaps because they feared Aunt Onome, feared the evil that she was capable of. Since I could not slap her, I just stared at her and looked away. Her advice was ironic and I would not stress myself dwelling on it. My younger brother looked at me, I could see the concern in his eyes. It was the second concerned eyes I saw after Ella, my niece and as our eyes locked, I felt tears start to build up, I wanted to cry. I had not cried since the whole drama began but there and then looking at my brother, I felt the strong urge to break into tears, roll on the floor and wail loudly. My elder sister on the other hand looked distant, as usual, her mind probably wandering again. She had problems of her own and it was obvious mine was the least of her concern. “Have you tried addressing this issue? Do you think it’s enough for you to leave?” It was my mother’s favorite again, Jite. “Brother. I have done that severally. I have begged him. I have pleaded but he would not stop. I cannot cope anymore. I am tired of sharing my husband with every woman in Lagos. Do you know that he gave me STD twice? Oh yes, he did. I, Ejiro cannot continue to put myself through this. I deserve better than this. I do.” I did not realize my voice had become loud, and I choked at intervals because the sharp pain made my chest feel tight. My father watched silently, he agreed with me, I know, but on issues like this, he would rather stay silent than back me up. My mother would run mad with anger if he did so he only nodded his head and watched silently. Shocking us all, my sister spoke, “As long as it gives you peace, do it.” It felt more like she was trying to pass a message to herself than to me but she looked at me, her eyes blank but distant. The whole room went quiet again until my father broke the silence, “Well you’re an adult, responsible for your decisions. We are not in the marriage with you, if you say this is how you want to live your life then there’s almost nothing we can do. We can’t force you. You have your reasons and they are valid.
” My mother burst into tears as she placed her hands on the sides of her face, “Is that all? Is that what you have to say? You’re giving her a go-ahead to scatter her home? Can’t we settle this matter with her husband? How can you say this Efe? How can you?” She shook her head and sobbed loudly. My father must have planned forehand to ignore her because even after she spoke, he remained quiet and did not respond. “Papa is right. As much as nobody is happy that you’re ending things, we can’t force you. So I pray God will help you through this decision.” Jite said tiredly. My pain was replaced with anger again. I wanted more than this but I wasn’t surprised. Nobody had boldly supported me and condemned what Boma did. How could they casually treat my pain and hurt like it was nothing? Nobody sympathized or empathized with me. I was bruised. Did they not know? Did they not see it? Uncle Tega spoke but I did not hear him, I couldn’t hear anything anymore. My heart ached so much it affected my ears. I stood up as I left the sitting room. The tears fell now, uncontrollably.

I went back to Lagos the next morning. I hid my swollen eyes caused by crying and an entirely sleepless night in my dark sunglasses as I dragged my suitcase. I could have stayed some days more but it would be pointless. I felt miserable and I needed a break from any form of pressure. Efe, my younger brother tried to help me with my suitcase but I turned him down, he walked behind me anyway. My father named him after his own name, Efe. We all teased him for it, telling him Jite should have been his Junior and not Efe. He would shrug and say, “Na una sabi.” I approached the cab that was parked outside waiting already, Efe hugged me tightly. We spoke more with our eyes than with words. He was usually not allowed to say anything especially in family matters where opinions were needed so we adopted that method. Just then my parents walked up to me. My father hugged me as he whispered in my ear, “you’re a strong woman.” My mother watched without saying a word and when I entered the cab, she shook her head as she said “call us.” I could tell she was fighting her tears, I wondered why she was crying, she had no reason to well except for her usual selfish reasons. Her tears and drama were not really because she was concerned about me, it was more about her status of being a mother to a divorced daughter. We never really got along because we thought and saw things differently. My father would say we had the same behavior and that was why we could never get along but it was beyond that for me, she just never got me. She had always been more of herself than anyone else. My elder sister, the one with the distant eyes, Mairo was married with four kids and her husband was abroad and hardly came home. It is rumored that he was now married to a white woman over there and had another family but my mother wouldn’t bother herself with any of that, she never hesitated to boast to her friends how her first daughter was married to a man “in the abroad.” The only child of hers she cared about(well at least in a bit obvious way) was Jite. I didn’t blame her though, she wasn’t perfect and even though I tried to, I could not blame her.
The airport cab driver honked as he pulled up at the gate. Johnson our gateman peeped immediately, almost like he had been waiting for the honk and he flung the gates open as he recognized it was me.
The cab made its way through the gate and Johnson helped with my suitcase as I paid the driver. “Madam welcome. Happy new year o.” He grinned revealing his teeth which had turned brown as a result of excess kola nut chewing. “Thank you, Johnson.” I smiled faintly. He was a young man and had been working at the house for a year now. I walked in with Johnson behind me. The door was unlocked, Boma was home. My heart started to beat faster than usual and I paused and shut my eyes for some seconds before I entered. I collected the suitcase from Johnson as I thanked him and he returned to the gate.

Just then Boma came downstairs and he stopped in his tracks as he saw me then he rushed to me trying to hug me, “Welcome baby, you didn’t tell me you’d be coming back today.” I shrugged off his hug “I don’t owe you that Boma. Have you signed the papers?” His eyes went sad as he swallowed hard. I looked away, those eyes used to be my weakness. Used to, not anymore. He went on his knees just then, clutching my leg and he started to cry. “Baby, please. I beg you. Please don’t do this. Think of all we shared. You can’t just end us. Please.” I looked up as I started to cry too. I could not fight my tears. I loved the man kneeling before me, my husband. Heaven knows I loved him with every breath in me. I would never have married him if I didn’t. Marriage had always terrified me, it had always been one of my greatest phobias but I abandoned those fears to marry Boma, because I loved him. People found it weird that I was scared of marriage, seeing that my parents were still together all the years, married. It was hard to explain to them that even though my parents stayed married, their marriage was nothing close to blissful. It was full of fights and toxicity. I was sure they only stayed married because they had no choice. My father was an elder in his local church. Where was it heard that an elder of the church left his wife?
I loved Boma, I still love him, but the time had come for me to choose between myself and him, I had to choose myself. I loved Boma but I loved myself more. I couldn’t let him shatter the remaining pieces left of me. He had wounded me in many different places that would take forever to heal. I couldn’t bear the pain anymore.
We got married five years ago after dating for a year. I met him at a point where I wasn’t even interested in looking for love. He came along and I thought he was the most intelligent man I had ever met. I loved intelligent people, they weren’t common but Boma was one. He worked then as a chief editor of a magazine and I met him when the firm I worked with (then) was to be covered in a section of the magazine for that month. He had a way with words and that same day, he got my phone number and our friendship started. He was an amazing person, he listened to me and cared about me. That was all I ever looked for in a man and he did it so effortlessly. A few months after, we started dating and the one year we dated was the best year of my life. He was too good to be true. I fell deeply in love with him every day. He proposed after a year and I did not have to think twice to say yes. I was sure he was the one, he would make me happy for the rest of my life.
After we got married, things went normal. He started his media firm, I changed my job and was now in a higher position. Life was good. Good until the rumors started to fly around. First, from my then-friend Cynthia, I remember her calling to inform me that she had seen Boma with a young lady at a hotel she went to for a seminar. “Maybe he’s there for a meeting Cynthia. You know his job, he meets up with people at random places.” I defended. It was ridiculous to think or believe that Boma was cheating on me. I never asked him about it, I was sure Cynthia was wrong. Yet another day a few weeks after, she called again, bringing the same news, only this time it was at a different hotel. I was furious, at her. “What is the meaning of this rubbish Cynthia? Do you want to break my home? How come you’re the only one seeing these things? Please don’t ever call me again.” I thought she was a bad friend who was just envious of me. Boma never gave any reason for me to suspect he was cheating. He came home on time, was even around on weekends, our sex life was great. We were even trying to have a baby. I moved on still holding the belief that Cynthia was just an enemy of my happiness, Boma would never cheat on me, I was sure of that.

Cynthia’s words started to make sense when one day at work, I felt a burning pain when I tried to pee. It was unusual and I thought it was just a minor discomfort till it persisted for a week. I went to the doctor for a test and I was told I had Gonorrhea. I was shocked, was this a joke? Was Gonorrhea not a sexually transmitted infection? How did I get it? Then it hit. Boma. I rushed home as I texted him, “you need to get home ASAP, we need to talk URGENTLY.” He returned home and I asked, “Boma how come I have gonorrhea?” He wasn’t shocked or maybe I didn’t see that he was shocked. His eyes darted around and he was uneasy, then he feigned a fake surprise, “Baby gonorrhea? Where did you get it from?” his voice unsure. “Boma are you mad? Are you playing with me right now? Is Gonorrhea like malaria? There’s only one way I could have gotten it. One way! You’re my husband and the only man I am sleeping with. So you better open your mouth and stop the nonsense!” I was angry and my voice rang through the walls of our spacious sitting room.
“Babe I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I didn’t even know” he pleaded. I paced around angrily. It was true, my husband was cheating on me, so carelessly that I even caught an STD through it. Cynthia was right. I wanted to scream so loud instead I say quietly, “So there are other women.” I did not wait for a response as I went upstairs immediately and shut the door. I broke into tears. How could he do this to me? I trusted him. I had heard stories of women being cheated on in their marriage but it was something I never thought could happen to me. I was broken, even more broken because it appeared I was the last to find out my dear husband was sleeping with other women. How many of them? Was it just one or there were many others? I had so many questions.

Before I got married, I would have sworn that I would leave my marriage if I caught any whiff of infidelity but after the first STD experience, I could not even think of that. Instead, I thought of everything I had given to make us work. It was hard to throw it all away, so I forgave him. I also forgave him when I saw naked pictures that were not mine on his phone. I forgave him when I caught the STD for the second time and I forgave him when I saw him at a hotel in Lagos when he told me he was traveling to Abuja for work. I did a lot of forgiving, I didn’t even know I was capable of that much forgiveness but now, I was done. I had no more forgiveness left in me. I was drained.

“Get up Boma,” I say quietly. He still held on to my legs as he sobbed. “Get up!” I screamed. I kicked him as I walked away, tears still in my eyes. I turned back to look at him, “I am moving out tomorrow, I would really love it if those papers are already signed by then.”