The weeks that followed were hard, painful and slow. She had to go to church for counseling. To her utmost surprise, she found herself stocking meals for her husband to take to work. She was determined to deal with this menace once and for all. She can’t lose at both sides.
The past came pouring any time she was alone; she only blamed her mother for this stupid decision of hers. No one cries over spilt milk; but now, she was in hell. She would find any means to make it snow in this place.
The months that passed surprised Bayo. He could bet that his wife was up to something. If she doesn’t kill him soon enough, then the God he served was indeed a miracle worker. He went around, looking over his shoulders like someone who was been pursued by the EFCC. He hated this life; he had to admit.
This wasn’t what he bargained for. He was caught right in the act, but for his nagging wife to pretend as if nothing had happened gave him chills. He made sure to share his food with his office colleagues; he didn’t want to die alone.
Bisola had carefully planned everything. She was about to hit the man and his concubines below the belt. After planting a monitoring device on him, she hacked into his phone to get more evidence. She needed to show him why Mohammed Ali never lost a battle twice in a row.
One sunny Friday afternoon, she called to tell him that she had a surprise for him – a pre-birthday party – she wanted him to come back to the house as early as possible.
Setting out for home, he drove like a woman who had just got a new car, slow and steady, at least that cleared some doubts in the head.
Different thoughts filled his mind; he couldn’t understand anything. How can someone catch you in the act and then pretend as if nothing ever happened? He made a stop at his favourite drinking bar just to clear his head. The few bottles of Budweiser did nothing to help him. Not wanting to overburden his already burdened state, he left as quietly as possible; no noise, no tips for his favourite bar man, and no greetings to the ladies of the night. He had a far more pressing ordeal to confront.
He sat at the court’s witness area, repeating what the register had told him, placing his hands on the bible;
“I swear that everything I will say in the court of law will be nothing but the truth, so help me God.”
The droplets of sweats that had formed over his head and palms dripped down steadily. His eyes went straight to where his wife was seated. The smile she wore on his face would have killed goliath if she had come face-to-face with him. This cross was too heavy to carry; he looked round the courtroom and found enough evidence to declare himself guilty.
“Oga de! Watch where you dey go na. If them send you, tell them say you no see me, lia lia”.
This voice brought him back to the reality of the moment.
“Ma bi nu oh,” he said to no one in particular.
Relived to know that this was only his mind playing tricks on him, he sped up, as he didn’t want to make the lion angry this time.
Bisola was singing happily. She moved like someone who had won a lottery, or perhaps a bird who had survived the night’s storm. This mood of hers sent more thunderous strikes to his body. She didn’t even notice him come in, more so, the aroma that filled the house was that of his favourite meal.
This woman had gone out of her way to make him happy; the royal rumble in his tummy knew no bounds.
“Honey, I’m home,” he shouted.
“Welcome, darling. I’m in the kitchen.” She said, “Please do freshen up; the visitors would soon be here. I want you to be ready before they arrive.”
“Them? You didn’t tell me anybody was coming!”
“Stop whining like a baby,” she replied, while drawing closer to welcome her dearly beloved husband.
She was dressed for an occasion; her cream coloured gown made her look more beautiful than ever. The light makeup she wore on her face was wow. Why didn’t he see this beauty in her all these while, or were his eyes deceiving him?
He looked at her once more just to be sure that he wasn’t seeing double.
“You need not come closer; I’ll just go freshen up. You look more than ready. I hope I can beat this dressing,” he said, smiling.
“I’ve brought out the cloth I want you to put on; I’ve already laid it on the bed. Please don’t keep too long. Just so you know, after our visitor’s depart, I’ll be giving you a pre-birthday present… You can call it desert,” she winked at him, making him stumble as he climbed the stairs. They both laughed as he steadied himself.
“I trust you Ma”, he mumbled out.
Bayo dressed up quickly and was down in no time. He was cladded in blue jeans and a white polo shirt. He sat patiently while waiting for his wife to dish out the food. She had instructed him to relax and wait for the guests, but all he wanted to do was devour the food, and the desert. He sat there watching the TV, but his mind was somewhere else.
The doorbell rang just in time to bring him out of his happy thoughts. His wife walked calmly towards him, gave him a peck on the cheek, looked at him one more time with a kind smile, and then said, “You’re looking good, young man. ‘Olowo ri mi’… The apple of my eyes… The sugar that makes my tea sweeter… Please for my sake, put on your best behaviour in front of our visitors.”
He nodded affirmatively, and then smiled. She pointed to the door and he made haste to open it. He could bet he was singing songs of praises as he went for the door.
Immediately Bayo opened the door, what greeted him was worse than his fears. He stood rooted to the spot. The man was petrified. He could swear that his wife’s eyes were burning at the back of his head, and she was smiling. Death by firing squard was far better than what he was witnessing.
“Ah, iku Lélé oh!” He exclaimed.
The thought that crossed his mind initially was a far better option. At that moment, he wanted the earth to swallow him up. He looked at his wife, and then the guests standing outside his doorstep. Truly, this lightning bolt had struck twice.
To be continued...
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