Nuptial Vows (2)

Adetunji came in to find the door of the house opened wide. He was furious and ready to pounce on his lazy wife again, knowing she would be sleeping in bed. He took giant strides that was at par with his throbbing head…

He stood cold at the door of the bedroom when he saw another man on top of his wife.

The man ran out of the house when he sighted Adetunji, but his ‘innocent’ wife- Ifedayo just laid on the bed, unashamed, and without a hint of remorse.

“I want a divorce," she said.

He jumped on her and beat her till he thought she was going to die. He didn’t leave until he was sure he had left her a scar, a memorabilia of her unfaithful act- he broke her arm.

The next morning, Adetunji missed his morning devotion, he was angry with his pastor, his church, himself, his life, his wife and even God. Sometimes he saw himself like a madman. He took his bath and to his surprise the dining table was set, breakfast ready.

How could she have managed to prepare food with her hand broken?

Ifedayo had gone to the hospital a few hours after her hand had been broken by her husband. 

She came back, not only with her arm in a cast, but with something else.

She noticed as her husband dragged his feet to the dinning room and took a seat opposite her.

She wished him to wash his hands, that he be washed of his sins. God knows, she would have wrenched and thrown up into his food, so he wouldn’t have to eat it. 

But he didn’t even look at the food twice, he thought she wanted to poison him.

The son of a bitch will not renounce his sins and be washed clean? she thought.

She’s god now, and it was time for justice to be done. She asked her husband:

“Adetunji, do you remember the vows we took on our wedding day? You only quote it in part. 'For better for worse.'

She paused to make her message register.

'Till death do us part.'

She brought out an automatic pistol, and before Adetunji’s muscles could twitch, she pulled the trigger and he fell back, the chair with him with his head scattered on the floor.

Ifedayo drew the water closer to wash her hands; of her sins and guilt. She then pulled the food closer. 

 She observed a moment of prayer; not to bless the food, but to ask for forgiveness as she took a lump of the semovita and dipped it into the efo-riro she had poisoned, and swallowed it. 

 The blood that gushed out of her dead spouse’s scattered brain didn’t make her lose appetite; after all it was her last supper...

 Granny's advice

“Did she die granny?”asked Anthonia at the end of Granny's story of Adetunji and Ifedayo.

“ It's too loud! What's it you children of these days put in your ears? You talk so loud that it can cause a loud Jezebel screaming in your ears that you can become deaf," Grandma grumbled.

“Mama decibel, a unit of the measure of the intensity of sound, not Jezebel,” Steven, her grandson, corrected her.

“Listen to me you two. You think I will be on your side because you are my grandson? Please, don’t turn into a beast that will hurt this girl. Hian! Beasts are ugly.”

Then grandma turned to Anthonia,

“And you princess. Don’t you ever turn this gentleman into what he’s not. I watched him grow up and I know him well. Fan his love into flames; don’t wake up the beast in him.”

The young lovers looked at grandma’s wrinkled face and a head seasoned with grey hair.

“As much as I love you two, think it through before you take that vow before God and His people tomorrow at the church. If you are not ready now, you can wait till the year you are sure…even if I’m dead and I’m not around when you eventually tie the knot, I will rest well.”

Grandma looked from the deep, warning eyes of his grandson to the smiling, soulful eyes of his soon to be bride, and asked her,

“Do you know he smokes?”

Anthonia’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Ah! I thought as much," Grandma said.

Steven walked out on them. As Grandma watched Steven walk out of the Grey Center for The Old, Yaba, Lagos, she looked at Anthonia with a warmth in her eyes that a mother hen will hope for her chicks on a cold December night, trailed by words that tugged at the strings of her weak but broad heart,

“I’m not saying this because I don’t like you. You can swear by Almighty God I do, Oh! I do, and you know it.”

She looked into the now tearful eyes of Anthonia, as if for a reassurance.

“I know my grandson well, he will tell you I’m senile and I say whatever I like because I have no one to talk to. But that’s not true, my best friend was just wheeled away to his grave yesterday, we had a great time talking with each other.”

Anthonia smiled, “Thank you ma.”

Anthonia got out of the building to meet a defensive Steven ranting:

“Baby, don’t mind mama. She’s getting senile…and she probably made that story up! That’s what a long time not talking to somebody does to you.”

Anthonia shook her head and said,

“She does really know you well.”

With that, she walked away.

Steven ran after her,

“Please, babe…don’t walk away.”

Anthonia turned back to look into her lover’s eyes and folded her arms across her chest.

“I just have my fears Steve, and I know you have yours too, but we don’t talk about them. We only discuss ideas, not our emotions.”

Steven drew nearer to her, humbled and replied,

“Now, let’s talk.”

The End!

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