“Honey, I’m gonna be late. I’m sorry!”
She turned over and checked the time.
“Alright.” She said.
She stood up and walked to the dining room. She stared at the table on which she had placed all the food she had been busy cooking that afternoon. His favorite. Fried rice and snails. She had fried chicken too. She wasn’t a big fan of snails but then he loved snails and she had to feed him what he loved. She was hungry but thought she’d wait for him to arrive so they could eat together just like the old times, when they were young and in love. Love. She smiled bitterly. It seemed like so long they met and their love story was birthed. Now, they could just stand each other because they had to. He had been staying away from home too often, she noticed. And it was intentional. He couldn’t stand her.
She placed her hands on her stomach, looked down and thought of how it would look with a small bulge. Just a small one that would show the world she was fertile. Her eyes could tell the tale of how much she had cried. And her lips of how much she’d prayed. She wondered why her life was like that. She was the last child in a family of three children and her elder ones all had kids, adorable kids. All she had to herself was a renowned business.
The other day she had tried convincing Patrick to let them have a check up at the hospital but being the stubborn Igbo man, he claimed there was nothing wrong with him. So she went by herself and the tests carried out showed that she was indeed in perfect health. The doctor recommended rest and with an amused look asked if her sex life was fine. This which she affirmed positive.
She left the hospital and drove home in silence. The day after, she had gone to the supermart nearby to shop for her beloved Snickers™ and other provisions. She witnessed a mother spanking her toddler daughter for sneaking cookies into her pockets. Her heart hurt at the sight and she thought of how she would have bought even more of the cookies if it had been her own child. She wheeled her cart to the checkout counter and relapsed into her gloomy mood.
She had told Patrick about the report the doctor gave her and he looked away, muttering “All is well.”
She went back to the couch and laid down again. She brought out her phone and unlocked it. The picture she had selected as her wallpaper always brought smile to her face. The picture was from their wedding, seven years before. Exactly seven years. She hugged her phone to her chest and then thought about how wrong it was. After all phones are radioactive. She stared at the ceiling and then she opened her eyes. She checked the time. It was 12:35am. He was not back yet. She stood up, went to the dining room and scooped some rice for herself on a ceramic plate. This she carried to their bedroom. She sat on the bed and ate while at the same time crying. She went back downstairs and cut a large piece of cake. She took it back to the room, ate and cried. She placed the plates on the rug beside the bed and went to sleep.
She heard the door opening and opened her eyes slowly. He came into the room, his tie loosened and carrying his leather briefcase. She stood up, walked pass him and went into the bathroom. She stood in front of the mirror and brushed. He came into the bathroom and started apologising.
“Anita I’m sorry. I had to work so late. Didn’t finish the office work so I had to stay. I didn’t mean to be absent at our anniversary.”
She brushed on in silence and rinsed her mouth.
She scooped some water into her palms and began to rinse her face.
He reached out to touch her.
“Dont touch me!” She screamed at him.
He withdrew his hand.
“But I said I’m sorry.”
“Of course you’re sorry.” She mimicked.
“You’re sorry you missed our anniversary dinner right? I should have known better than to cook all I did. Working late on your own anniversary, who does that? Staying away from home all this while in the name of work. Of course you’re sorry.”
She charged pass him and headed downstairs. He followed her closely.
“Anita I’m really sorry. I’ll make it up to you in any way. I’ll take time off work so as to spend more time with you. Shall we go on a vacation? I’ll sort it out. Let’s go to Sun City.”
She let out a delirious laughter. He watched with confusion.
“Follow me to the hospital you refused. Now you want to go to Sun City.”
He scratched his head and said:
“Fine I’ll follow you to the hospital.”
Later that day, she sat with a victorious look on her face as the doctor informed them that Patrick was impotent.
How would you like the story to end? Do comment!
Do tell a friend to tell a friend to tell even more friends to check this blog out. Thank you!