Adam’s adulterous apple

adam

Adams loved me. I know he did. Sure we had broken up months ago and he had had two girlfriends since then with one of them expecting his baby but still he loved me. I smiled inwardly on this realization. How else could this be explained? Why else would he sit beside me and talk about things that happened during the one year we were together and things that could have happened if we had stayed together? He definitely loved me!

Adams and I had dated for exactly one year. As in, exactly 365 days. I knew because I had counted. What else was I to do with the days I spent weeping over him. After we broke up because that his chief witch of a sister had made it her dying wish that he cut ties with me because according to her, I was “incurably insane and would turn on him soon enough.”, I stayed home rotting away for months, going from being berserk to reclusive. My mother got tired of managing my episodes after a week and went back to Abeokuta. I took the breakup pretty hard; well if we are being honest here then I was on the very edge of going mad and then I suddenly started getting better. But that is not important now because I got better. I found salvation in deodorant and a shaving stick and the sun; few of the things I had not known while I mourned my breakup with Adams. I had come out of my funk and gotten a new job. I had even met someone who seemed nice enough to cast my attention to when I saw Adams again.

He looked good, like its-been-a-while-since-you-saw-me-and-I-clean-up-nice kind of good. He’d obviously just gotten a new haircut and his beard was carved just the way I liked it. It looked like he’d been hitting the gym a little too. Those biceps were inviting and it took all my self control not to curl myself around them in that instant. I didn’t look too bad myself. With my hair laid and face beat, I gave myself a mental high five for not “falling hand”. When he looked up and saw me and looked me from my head to my toes, taking in every bit of the sight that was before him. He gave me that look that used to mean “you got it right.”

I sat down with him across the table from me and talked and laughed for hours about all sorts of things, moving deeper and deeper into dangerous areas as the conversation lingered.

“How is work?”

“You must have a new man now. You sure look like you do.”

“Your lips look especially good tonight, Ama.”

When the sexual tension that had been building up from my being away from him for so long finally reached its climax, we managed to check into a hotel room a few blocks from the bar where we ran into each other before all the clothes came off. Those 30 minutes more than made up for the months we had been away from each other. I won’t disclose much about that sexual escapade, but I’ll tell you this much; what they say about stolen waters is definitely true- they are MUCH sweeter. It was so good that my mood wasn’t even dulled when he told me about the girl who was expecting his baby. He loved me, even after all these months. Nothing else mattered.

I continued to drink from those stolen waters for months, even after Adams had a court wedding with the girl expecting his baby. He told me her parents had insisted on the marriage. As far as I was concerned, the marriage bit only made our relationship more exciting. We would meet up in the most indiscreet places just to get some. It was exhilarating to say the least. There was even a time when I followed him to the hospital where the wife had her antenatal classes; we had a little rendezvous at the back of the hospital. Not very romantic, but who cares.

I would call and he would come running. I would ask and he would supply, unfailingly. A lot of times he would spend the night at my place and when ‘the wife’ called I’d make sure he didn’t pick the call. The devotion and attention was empowering really. Our relationship was perfect. I had the man of my dreams; the pregnant wife was just an attachment. She couldn’t come between us. Unfortunately, the pregnancy didn’t last forever and she delivered eventually and things stopped being as rosy. Adams stopped answering my calls or texts. I’d drive by his house and see him being a dutiful father! When did that one start? When did the wife and her spawn become more important than me and my calls? Why would he do that to me? To us?! After we had professed love to each other!

I tried…. believe me. I tried to come to terms with the fact that Adams and I couldn’t be together but I just couldn’t; so I woke up one bright Saturday morning. I fueled my car. I emptied my account and bought myself a nice weave; Peruvian hair- the girl at the counter called it. I did my hair all nice, got one of those expensive makeovers and a nice dress and shoes to match. Adams had once told me he couldn’t live without me so I was out to make sure he didn’t have to. I drove from Ketu all the way to Ikoyi. The security guards were too slow to stop me as I rammed through the Estate gate at top speed and drove directly into his living room.

***

This Mental institute is driving me insane, which would be ironical if I was insane. These idiots put me in here. They pulled me out of the rubble of Adams’ house. He and his family wife and spawn weren’t home; they’d narrowly escaped when they went out the backdoor to visit a neighbor. They were lucky. They had me locked up in this mental institute with my broken leg claiming that I had bipolar disorder, whatever that means. I’m writing this hoping someone will be wise enough to read this and see that I’m not insane and let me out of this house of crazies. Adams and his wife must get what is coming to them…and this time they won’t be so lucky.

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