Toto Series: Do you have a problem with it?

Toto Series - That's your problem

Toto Series - That's your problem Part II

This is a sequel to That’s Your Problem which can be accessed for free on our profile.

I was put up at the Continental. That was where the ceremony was to take place. Tim's friends from out of town were also going to be lodged there when they came in. His best man who had just returned from the UK was also lodged but I avoided him. Angela had asked me to tone down the Gothic.

"This is Nigeria abeg. I can't have my maid of honour looking like the man I'm saying I do to."

"Is that your fear? That you want to say I do to me instead?"

"But you are not my Man, na? With your chest that is competing with my own?."

"wanna touch?"

"Go away! I'm serious. Please try and be more ladylike. The wedding is attracting unnecessary attention and our families are being scrutinised like lab rats or Something. It's insane and I don't want to give these jobless bloggers lunch money. Abeg for my sake."

"sure. Anything for you."

And so I bought dresses, heels and wigs for my stay at the Continental. I attended family luncheons, followed her for fittings and cake tasting and all the unnecessary things intending couples piled on their to-do list before signing their life away. She'd asked and I was willing to play the part.

Tim's father was a shrewd businessman who made his fortune after the Nigerian Civil war. He had oil wells as well as shares in banks and other places only mentioned in whispers. Tim was raised to take over the empire. He was an honour student at Harvard before heading to the Robert Kennedy College in Zurich. He carried himself well. He was kind and decent, with impeccable fashion sense. He had introduced me to Kunle his best man who everybody agreed was the most eligible bachelor in Nigeria. I didn't like him nor did I pretend to. That didn't stop him from trying though. Poor guy.

Before the lockdown was announced, Tim came to the Continental. I'd finished a particularly rewarding massage session with the lady with the softest hands. After she "de knotted" my muscles, she was more than grateful for her outpouring. Nigerian women are always shocked at how much fluids I can draw from them. Change your boyfriends' dears. This particular one soaked Her massage bench through and through.

He said he dropped by on Angela's orders and asked if he could come in. I invited him up and replaced my robe for yoga pants and a matching tank top to come off as more girly. His aura was powerful. As soon as he stepped into the room, he filled it up. Not in an intrusive way, but still potent. He sat on the couch and handed me a gift box complete with a dusty blue bow.

"I hope it isn't another dress"

"Well... Angel says you can't have too many dresses, so... "

I shook my head while he smiled. It was indeed another dress and a long wig with deep full waves.

"She knows I'm not wearing this!"

The dress was too glittery, a sharp rose gold sequinned dress with straps at the back. the hair looked full and in Lagos heat? Hell no!

“She ordered me to order you to wear it"

"You can't be serious!"

Of course, he was. So like Angela to pull off a stunt like this. They were having one of those dinner meetings to discuss the guestlist for the ceremony. Angela came from a professional political family starting with her great grandmother who worked closely with Awolowo when he was Premier of the old western region. Her father was running for governor, and this alliance served both parents well.

These dinners were nothing but political meetings. After a few photographs and old reused jokes, the "men" excused themselves and entered into closed-door meetings that never ended. This was the third dinner to talk about the guest list.

"No offence, but I can't stand these dinners! The only good thing about them is the food and I can't even indulge because your fiancé keeps forcing me into these unholy contraptions she calls dresses!"

Just like his aura, his laughter filled the room drawing me in. I was laughing too.

"You are the first woman I know to call a dress an unholy contraption. Don't tell anybody, but I also hate these dinners. But I love Angela and I'd go through a thousand more as long as it makes her happy."

"You and me"

I said without thinking. He arched his eyebrow but I didn't fill up the growing silence. I didn't try to persuade him one way or the other. He could make of it what he wanted. The silence stretched on and with it an unspoken appreciation. The knowledge that we both loved the same woman and we were both willing to give up everything to please her.

"Thank you for doing this"

I smiled.

"The things we do for love" was all I could say. As I went into the room to change into my latest unholy contraption complete with matching heels, a clutch and a smile.

He offered his bent elbow and I held on as we made our way to his car. And just like that, the energy between us had shifted. In our love for Angela, we found a sort of kinship. At the end of the ride, he whispered into my ear and kissed my lips before dropping.

"Did you tell Tim we've fucked??"

"What? Well hello to you. I see you've hit the bar already?" Angela didn't look so chirpy this Evening. Her hair had been pulled back into a tight ponytail at the base of her neck. She was wearing a dusty pink sweetheart neckline gown with low box heeled sandals. She looked tired but like the soldier she is, she was keeping on. I didn't care.

“Answer my question. Did you... “

“... Is that why you dragged me here like this? And why would you think that?"

"Answer the fucking question dude, did you tell him we fucked?"

"Shhhh... Stop shouting, does it make sense for me to tell anybody?

"Think Angela, think. Maybe while he fucked your brains out, or maybe during a drunk episode. Did y'all compare notes? Was that what you did after ditching me in Melbourne ?"

I know I wasn't making any sense. I sounded mad even to my own ears but I couldn't help it. My chest was being squeezed by a blackened hand. Hard and unforgiving. She was the one who didn't want tongues wagging. She was the one who wanted me to play pretend so why would she tell anybody? much Less Tim?

She led me to her room to get away from the eyeballs we were beginning to attract.

"Edi, you need to calm down and stop shouting okay. This whole place is buzzing with journalists and everybody looking for a good story or something to use against my father and I can't have your loud mouth jeopardizing... Wait... Why do you even care if he knows or not?"

"FUCK you! Fuck you, Angela."

“Edi What is this about? Because I am sure as HELL know this isn't about what you're talking about. "

GODDAMMIT!

Why did I care truly? It wasn't that he knew. It was that he knew I was her lover and she STILL chose him over me. It was the way he casually delivered those words knowing their truth stung more than anything he could've thrown at me. He was the better man and no matter how hard I played pretend, I would never be good enough for her.

"It's about you sending me that text in May saying you couldn't do this anymore. No explanation, no room for me to understand why you'd up and leave. then tell me you hadn't been with another woman because what we shared was sacred. It’s about you lying in my bed soaked through by our lovemaking and you leaving the next day with a frigging note saying you couldn't do this anymore. It's about.... "

Her lips were dry and I could tell she had been biting on them. The wedding must bother her more than she let on. This was just like Angela. To kiss and fuck her way through me. She knew that I wouldn't be able to resist her. I couldn't all those years in Ekiti, I couldn't in Melbourne and now...

I bit her instead. She pulled away from me dazed! Good. I needed some distance between us. I needed to say what was on my mind and her pressing against me didn't give more room for thought.

"You fucking bit me???"

“ I know and I am sorry. Now listen...

"you fucking bit me, Edi!"

Then it registered. She wasn't angry, she was extra turned on. Before I could step back she was on me. Her hand holding my jaw while she crushed my lips with her bloodied lips. I tasted blood. Her blood and grapes and a tangy taste of dark ale. I felt the now-familiar current buzzing at the back of my head but I didn't move. I stood and let her.

She yanked at the straps of my dress until my breasts were hanging out. She was in a hurry, her hands grazed over my nipples down my dress meanwhile her other hand tried to keep my face firmly on hers while freeing her breasts. She was everywhere Trying to do too many things at once. she was making a mess. But I let her. I let her spread my legs which was surprising in the tight dress I'd squeezed myself into. She was back on my sore nipple from the chafing. I groaned which she took for a pleasure moan. her lips were on my neck, my face, leaving a wet trail.

Tim entered.

My heart swelled with pride at the sight of his utter shock. Well, Tim, who's got the girl now? Really? I looked at the frozen fear on Angela's face and felt like a pig. Looks like there is no winning Tim.

He walked out as quietly as he came.

Angela lunged at the door. Bare breasts and dishevelled hair. Running after him. What fuckery. I caught her before she was out of the room. She clawed and tried to squeeze through to get out.

"I'm finished"

"No, you're not. He knows better than to do anything crazy what with this place buzzing with paparazzi and his father's business associates."

How can you be so sure? Didn't you see the look on his face? My god! I'm finished! O my god.

And the way to "unfinish" yourself is to flash your boobs abi?

“What?”

"Weren't you the one giving me a lecture on not creating a scene 10 minutes ago? Running after your fiancé half-naked is normal behaviour here abi ? "

How. Can. You. Be. This. Callous? My fiancé just caught me with you and you are this calm?

“As opposed to what? What do you want me to do? Turn hysterical and jump out the window? Besides, he's known about us So dust yourself off and let's go and eat.”

“Isn't that just grand? Durst yourself off let's go and eat like it is that simple? Do you know the magnitude of what we have done? Of what I have done? How can I face him? What have I gotten myself into? Do you think he will call off the wedding?”

“O please! Don't be silly. Tim loves you too much to call off the wedding. Is he pissed? Maybe a little but Y'all would be fine.”

“What am I going to do? “

“You can stay here and lament while I go down for a drink and some of the food. O by the way, what explanation should I give for your absence?”

Watching her unravel so easily at the thought of losing Tim was pissing me off. Angela had been turned into an incoherent mess and I hated it. Nobody, not even me should have such power over her. Here I was, me, Edidiong consoling her and assuring her of the love of Tim. I pushed my selfish desires along with my growing dislike for him and tried to salvage the situation. I ordered her into the bathroom to take a shower and called Tim.

He sat across from me looking straight into my eyes. He was pissed too I could see. Good. Pissed is good. When he dropped me, he'd told me I'd not be a part of his wife's life post marriage a "Your thing, whatever it is, is done and I'd very much love to have my wife all to myself".

"What do you want?"

"What we both want. Angela happy."

"If you think..."

"I think you should listen to what I have to say. Look. It's like you said. My time with her is done. She wants to be with you not me."

"I know that."

"Good. So don't jeopardize your happiness because of that episode earlier...

"That episode was my fiancée dry humping another woman with all of our family and friends under the same roof a week to our wedding.

The guts on you to sit there with that smug face telling me not to jeopardize my happiness. I should have you arrested and jailed if for nothing else to see how long that smug look will last."

"I am not going to apologize so don't expect it. And we can spend the whole day accusing and threatening each other but that's not going to help our little situation now would it? See, I'm only here till the wedding and I'd be out of Y'all lives for good. However, you need to decide if you love her and want to continue with the wedding plans or you can go downstairs and call it off."

"How do I know you won't try to make a move on her? What assurance do I have that, that little episode as you called it is the last of it?"

"You don't. But I won't."

"Okay."

"Okay."

So we all went downstairs and had dinner and they finally decided on the guest list that was basically everybody. Kunle was by my side playing the victim of double patriarchal standards. I endured it with a smile and champagne. The food as usual was delicious and the conversation boisterous.

Angela sat beside Tim who held her hand under the table. She was still quite shaken about earlier. Even with fresh new clothes and make-up she still looked out of her wits. She wasn't giggling and only spoke when spoken to. After the guests had left, she drew me aside to thank me for saving her. Her big brown eyes were shiny with unshod tears. I watched her talk and all I could think of was her clumsiness earlier. I should've kissed her back. I should've gone with the flow. Guiding her frantic energy with calm expertise. Now it was too late. I had given my word and even though I hated Tim’s guts, I always kept my word.

“Madam! Did you zone out or something? I said what time should I come to pick you?”

"For what?"

"The final fitting is Wednesday. I'd pick you and we would head to Tim's house so we can all go together. So, what time? Know what, never mind. I'd come by 8am so that we can beat traffic.

“You can go without me. I'd rather spend my day allowing Monica to work on my tense muscles."

“Say what?”

“What?”

“You're here the whole of 3 seconds and you have a Monica?”

“And à host of others. Do you have a problem with that?”

“A host of... How could you do this to me?”

“How is this doing anything to you? I'd say this is the exact opposite of doing to you.”

“This is my wedding, you are my guest and you are in Nigeria. You know that's 14 years right?”

“second time Today I'm being threatened with arrest. First, it was your Tim and now you. What's this madness na? You are getting married and yet you're having a seizure a woman is going to be in my bed tonight. Wake up to the real world Angela. You can't eat your cake and have it.”

“Ladies... What cake are we talking about.”

Fruitcake. I answered. This was unbelievable. What exactly do women want? Angela is here throwing a fit at the thought of me with another woman yet she is the very same woman who almost ran through the house half-naked after Tim. Tim had come to "collect" his bride to be while Kunle was to drive me to the Continental.

“She's staying the night.”

“She is?”

“I am?”

“Yes. Do you have a problem with it?”

The question was to Tim. I'd never heard the steel in her voice before but it was there, unmistakably heavy. Her words hung in the air for a while. Tim looked at me, nodded and kissed her cheek goodbye. I stood awkwardly at the door while he walked past. head held high, ego bruised.

"What the hell is wrong with you Angela? You know I am the last person to tell you how to treat people but did you have to dismiss him like that?"

“We needed the time to talk”

"Whatever it was, girl that man is about to be your husband and you sending him off like he's the help?!."

"Edidiong stop trying to deflect okay. This isn't about Tim and me, this is about you always having random women in your bed."

"I don't see how that is a problem or any business of yours. Besides you didn't have a problem being a part of the random women in my bed as I recall."

Twack! Twack! Twack!

Un-fucking-believable.

This woman slapped me. I mean the slap itself didn't hurt as much as how I stood there. Not just once but three times. And it was even paced. Almost like she counted to three in-between and I stood there and took it all. Did Angela put anything in our drinks tonight that made us into her puppies or what? This was some bullshit and I was tired. I was tired of being in this dress, hair and shoes. I was tired of her family, judgy lot with their nose stuck in the air like disabled ostriches, I was tired!!!!

The buzzing undercurrent had grown to a ranging growl and that little episode earlier had let the beast loose but I knew we had to kill it before it consumed us and I ended in Kirikiri or worse.

"I'm out of here. Fuck you, Angela. Fuck you very much."

She was walking behind me while I hobbled through the dining room to the living room in those nasty heels id been standing in for the better part of the evening.

"I heard you that night. you thought I was asleep but I heard you."

I kept on walking. I didn't know what she was talking about but I didn't care. All I wanted was to be out of here before the waterworks started.

Fuck!

"In Melbourne, I heard you talking to Butch or whatever her name was."

One leg in front of the other, that's how you do it. Just keep walking. She is trying to bait you, don't fall for it. Dear Jesus don't let me start crying here, I'm almost at the door.

"That's fine. Walkout, run away as you have always done"

O hell no!

That's your forte dude. I never run from a fight.

“Isn't that what you are doing?”

“I am leaving before this place becomes a murder scene. I am leaving so whatever cooked up bullshit you have about the nastiness that is beneath that sunshine facade you put up is maintained.”

The doors were locked. Shit!

“If there is any nastiness in me, you put it there. My life was perfect before you came and ruined everything.”

"how about you open this door and watch me leave your life with all my nastiness. At least you won't have to continue pretending to be friends with poor folks."

We were both crying and screaming now and yet somehow nobody came running to witness our howling.

"O don't look shocked. Wasn't that what I was to you? That poor girl with the attitude problem you took upon your gracious self to elevate her status.

"That's not true. I loved you."

"You didn't love me. You loved how I fucked you alright. And as long as you got it, you were good."

"That's on you, not me. I tried to hang out with you but you wouldn't let me. In class, you acted like I didn't exist even when I sat beside you. I bought you stuff but you always rejected them or returned them."

“I wasn't a charity case.!”

"How was I to know my being rich offended you that much? Was my being rich also the reason why there were girls in your bed?"

“What?”

"Don't what me. I went to your room to drop off your birthday gifts since I knew how you'd react if I gave them to you and I found a girl half-naked in your bed. And she wasn't the first. That's why I left".

“Dude. I lived in a frigging hostel. I shared a room with close to 8 girls on a good day and you assumed some random girl in my bed was my girlfriend? Are you serious?”

"What was I to believe? You only came around to fuck and leave. Not to mention how you were always rubbing all the attention you were getting in my face. I loved you and wanted to be with you but always pushed me away."

“Is that why you sent me that nasty text and blocked me?”

"Well, you didn't seem bothered."

“And Melbourne?”

"I told you. I heard you talking to that girl. You thought I was asleep but I saw you kiss her too. I wasn't going to stick around for round two."

"Boirj was my girlfriend. We were together for 7 months before you showed up. I broke things off with her as soon as you moved in. She was upset and came over for closure. I know it doesn't make any difference but she kissed me. I swear to you I never cheated on you. Never!"

She uncrossed her hands and walked to me until our nose touched.

“Stop”

I didn't realize I was holding my breath. How did we go from yelling to me being this breathless.?

“Why?”

Because I won't let you go ever again. Because if we cross this line,na Kirikiri get us. Because I will die if you ever leave me again. I cant was all the lump in my throat would allow.

"You can't or you won't?"

My whole being wanted to but let's be honest you are the one that walked away from me; twice. You are the one that is about to get married. You are the one that should be stopping us.

I can't do this.

Do this?

She kissed me. Lightly, slowly as if waiting for me to bite her. Instead, I parted my lips and allowed her access. As long as it wasn't me who made the first move, I figured I technically didn't break my word. She stopped.

Do you want this? Because I do. I want to kiss you and touch you and allow you to make nasty heart thumbing mad love to me. But only if you want it to.

Well, I'd be damned.

Yes, I very much want to.

There was an awkward 30 seconds before our lips touched. She leaned into the kiss. Pressing her lips against mine. I swallowed. I shivered with excitement and fear. We were kissing in her house and she and Tim had unkindly reminded me that this is Nigeria and I could end up in jail. Just me the daughter of a nobody while they would sail into the Nigerian version of sunset. Her tongue sought entrance and I obliged. There was no hurry to her movement and I matched her energy. I was wet and a finger up her crotch showed it was mutual. How I wish the mamba was here. The mamba was my 9 inches thickly veined black dildo complete with a customised strap. O yes, it will serve me well at this moment. I would love to draw throaty moans from her, fucking her inside out until she lay spent then do it again. Angela was an embodiment of passion and she never hid her pleasure. I peeled off her clothes and she mirrored me. We stood naked hearts beating in unison. This was actually happening. All the fights, the angry outbursts, the tears were culminating in our lovemaking. I knelt before her kissing from her belly button to the patch of hair. She held up my head obviously self-conscious she had allowed that much hair growth. I kissed her gently on the base of her waist to reassure her. I didn't mind. If she grew it, I'd become a cavewoman it was that simple. I kissed her slow but deeply. Tasting of her woman moist and engorged. Her body responded to every flicker of my tongue every suckle, every nibble. She began to quake but I wasn't ready to allow her to find release just yet. I let her fall on me and I gently laid her to the carpet. I laid on top of her and looked into her eyes. The fire was back where it belonged. Then she giggled and looked away.

“Do tell me, are you shy?”

“Gerrout.”

Well, I'd be damned.

I kissed her neck, the base of her throat, the rise of her breasts, her nipples were already as hard as rocks when my lips found them. She moaned as I suckled on them. She rubbed on my clit and dug the fingers into my wet vagina. We were in no hurry. I sucked on her breasts and she drew hot liquid from my swollen clitoris. I positioned myself above her to ensure she got maximum pleasure and began to ride. She stopped me and ordered me to sit on the couch. I obliged and spread my thighs wide.

Whatever she was doing to my vagina I felt in my throat. Her tongue found all the nerve endings available and caressed them. While her tongue fucked my clitoris her fingers - index and middle fingers fucked my vagina. My orgasm hit quick and heavy. My body stretched out like I had been struck by a lightning bolt. My toes curled as my groan filled the room. She then climbed me and began to ride. I didn't know why but I began to cry. I buried my face in her neck and urged her on. Soon she had climaxed.

“What’s wrong”

“Fuck angela, what have we gotten ourselves into.”

“Are you regretting this?”

“Fuck no!”

"Good. Because I will just strangle you."

“Talking about death, where is everybody? I kept expecting your father or somebody to enter with a gun or a sword or something. All that noise and not a soul stirred?”

"This is my father's private section. It is soundproof. World war 3 can happen here and nobody will know." the way out is on the other side. I can't believe you still don't know your way around by now.

“Everything looks the same abeg.”

“stay.”

“I cant. You are getting married and my life is in Australia.”

"What if I don't get married would you stay?"

"And constantly look over my shoulder because of who I decide to love?"

"Then I will come with you."

“Dude.”

"I'm not losing you ever again. You either stay or I go with you."

FUCK!

Isn't it funny that no matter what you are going through life is happening? Like you can be in the deepest of shits and someone is pissing the champagne they got drunk on celebrating all over you. Life is always happening.

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Featured Stories


Leah

by eli-smooth, published 3 years, 1 month ago

The ride down the empty hill felt like a deluge. Five people cramped into an old Peugeot 504. The car jolted its way down the rough terrain and with each sharp turn, their eyes narrowed with despair.

The driver was Kelechi, a 22 year old medical student who had joined the fraternity about a month ago. His low hanging beard chiseled into his sharp jaw-line. The scar that was above his eye gave him a menacing look.

“How could this happen?” He wondered as he drove through the rickety slope. His eyes squinted a little as he swerved to avoid a goat that had moved into their path. The sudden swerve forced the engine to quake mildly and shut down.

They all moved out into the open space.

Silence lingered for a while.

“What do we do now?” Simi asked. Her dark skin glistening under the low light of orange setting sun. She was a psychology student. Brilliant but edgy; unwilling to succumb to the wild stereotypes that followed the other women in her life.

“We do nothing; we just bury the body where no one can find it” Sam whispered coldly.

Leah winced and paced the space around them, sobbing gently as she walked from side to side. She seemed the most distraught of the five. She wondered how different the day before had been and wondered if her life would ever be the same.

But it was the fifth person who seemed the most odd.

His tattoos were visible under the sleeveless shirt he had on. A nose piercing marked him out from the rest of them. He barely talked as the others encircled the empty bushes around. He just leaned on the car and peacefully disappeared into his thoughts.

“We were only supposed to scare him” Simi lamented. Her voice seemed to echo a distant regret.

“I keep asking what happened and no one wants to tell me. We were all on the same plan but as soon as I turn to take a leak, I return and find a fucking dead body on the floor. What happened while I was gone?” Kelechi asked. He seemed to be screaming at everyone else.

“Is it that important? Would you rather not have the truth be a little subdued from your conscience now?” Goni, the boy with the tattoos whispered back at Kelechi. His voice was cold, almost haunting.

“I don’t know. I didn’t sign up for this.” Kelechi confessed.

“Oh, so you think we all woke up and planned a murder and you were the only person out of the loop?” Simi asked angrily.

Kelechi looked away. His hands shaking under the weight of his deepest thoughts.

Sam chuckled slyly as he watched Leah’s wandering theatrics. He seemed calmer than he was a few minutes ago.

“The truth is right here. Whatever we say it is” Sam cuts in. The others looked at him. He nodded. They all nod back except for Goni.

“We still haven’t answered the most pertinent question though. Who poisoned the little old chap?” He asked calmly.

“Does it matter, we all know he was a dwindling, two faced monster” Leah said.

She had stopped pacing and sobbing. She seemed calmer and her big round eyes cut into her beautiful face. Sam looked at her in admiration

“We all knew that, but we also knew that the idea was to scare him and not to murder. So who amongst us had the most reasons to murder him?” Goni asked.

They all went quiet. The few seconds left between their breaths built up a reckless angst. Leah stared at each of their faces. She wondered who amongst them fits the murder type best..

Sam was a nerd.

It was odd that the frat boys loved him but underneath his queer humor and deep lingering eyes, there was no reason to suspect that he could be a killer. Leah thought. Simi was mostly indifferent; capable of the mundane but also the awe inspiring moments. Her calculative mind set her apart as the most logical of the group.

Kelechi was by matter of chance, the only one that was unavailable when they witnessed the death.

Goni was the one who seemed the most vulnerable to accusations. He had fought with the dead boy just a few minutes before the boy broke into a fit. He seemed more dangerous than anyone else and he also seemed to be nonchalant about the corpse that lay in the trunk of the car that had just stopped.

  • Simi looked at Leah from the corner of her eye. Their eyes meet and for a few seconds, they lingered on in their sanctified space. Simi felt a rush of casual emotions rushing within. She remembered their nights underneath the moon when the boys were away. She remembered every feeling and it made her question her every truth. But she also knew the other truth.

The five of them stood in an arc as the trunk was slowly being opened. The three boys straddle the body and move it towards the empty path that led one into the bushes. The rustling of the leaves just in front of them stopped them in their tracks.

A Park ranger had his gun pointed at them. The boys surrendered and raised their hands. The Ranger looked on in surprise.

“Who killed him?” He asked as he nudged the safety of the gun; turning it off.

The group stood, staring at him in silence.

“Who killed my partner?” The Ranger asked again.

This time his gun was pointed at a visibly distraught Simi.

She was overcome with fear.

“Leah, Leaaah,

She poisoned him because he raped her” Simi confessed.

The boys look back at Leah, stunned.

Leah’s face bore a look of resignation.

“Thanks so much for having my back; Lover” she said in disgust.

They boys all stood stunned. Processing both news that had crept into their ears.


Minutes of Memories

by InspiredLetters, published 3 years, 2 months ago

Screenshot_20210319-113259.png

The first thing you know is that you don't know how to run until you know how to run.

***

"Do you plead guilty?" The Judge asks, his glasses perches on the bottom of his nose.

"Do you -"

Although the ceiling fan whizzes faithfully, the room is still hot. It is still still hot.

You are held behind a dock not just by chains washing your hands and feet but by betrayal spoken in silence. Your hands, those large elements of bloody lust, gasp for the air of freedom, at least.

Anxiety is carefully sketched on the brown faces of the court.

The eyes in the room shining brighter than your future peep into your past.

***

Your anger started the day you met Mama sitting on the verandah; her wrapper had come undone, finger prints, five of them, kissed her cheeks, disheveled hair, and eyes blood red from crying. And Papa walked around like four walls with the paintings of Mama's curse words hanging on them.

"Prostitute!"

"Jobless drunk!"

Whenever they quarrelled, there was a cold war; minutes grew into hours, hours into days, days into weeks...

You know the air in your compound smells of their daily quarrells, yet you do nothing, can do nothing but run away. Away from it. It's now normal that if you see Papa saying I love you to Mama, you wonder if something is wrong, if it's a dream.

You keep on dreaming but the pain from the cuffs whisper reality into your eyes.

***

"Do you plead guilty?"

The atmosphere is now condensed like the hot thick pap Mama does for you and Ike every Saturday morning.

In nanoseconds, you could be kissing Mother Earth goodbye just from one statement of one man. One! One!

You look around, wanting to say the truth. Say it anyway!

But then you keep quiet.

***

That fateful day you were greeted by distant sounds of fighting. You know it's Mama and Papa again!

"Not again," you mumble and walk into the sitting room sluggishly.

Your sight beheld a liquid on the burgundy carpet. No, it was not water, it was blood, that sacred stream of life's mystery, Mama's blood!

"Daddy, stop, please, stop," your younger brother, Ike, screams, kept on screaming. He tugs at you to do something because the overflowing blood scares him. But you do nothing, can do nothing but run away. Away from it.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

The punches come in quick successions. Mama's body lay half-dead, half-consYou'vehalf-consYou'vehalf-consYou'vehalf-consYou've

The punches come in quick successions. Mama's body lay half-dead, half-consYou'vehalf-consYou've on the floor decorated with blood.

on the floor decorated with blood. on the floor decorated with blood.

"Daddy-"

The blood melts into thin air, into your eyes, forming a dark cloud, maybe an envelope on the canopy of your eyelids.

You can no longer take it.

So, you grab Papa by the neckcollar of his shirt but he pushes you away. Once, twice, thrice.

Your anger gets the better part of you when you forget the scissors in your hand in his neck.

Blood gushing out, Papa dies within minutes. The same minutes with which everything falls apart.

Papa is dead. Dead!

***

You know you should run. But you also know that you don't know how to run until you know how to run. Instead your feet glues to the roof of the earth and your tongue embraces silence.

Your mother's eyes, though dull with darkness, will you to run away. Still, you don't run, you don't want to run. You don't want to run but still run. Still, run!

Don't run again. The police are waiting out of your house.

"Who called them?" you kept asking.

***

Now.

You pose, one knee up, one knee down, before a congregation of rifles about to blow your dream off. An eye closed, you remember minutes of memories that you never can forget. Memories such as your younger brother calling the police against you, in fear. Memories such as the night you mixed rat poison in Mama's drinking water instead of Papa's.

You tiptoe through life into the bars of death. You are now your own fate. Can you run away from it?

#TheRun