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How stupid you are Omoboye, how stupid.

How did you let this girl do this to you? But you have a brain right? Don’t you? You can think for yourself Omoboye, can’t you? I asked myself those questions in quick succession as I read Boladale’s messages.

She had put a crying emoticon after I said she wouldn’t dare get pregnant.

‘Boye, please I am sooooooooorry. In fact I am dying here bit by bit.’

‘Die quick bitch,’ I thought, surprising myself. I wasn’t going to say a word to her again, I was sure of that. The rage I felt was like nothing I ever thought I could feel.

‘Omoboye, my life is messed up. The guy I’m pregnant for is a colleague and he is married. We just had a one night stand and we used protection, I don’t just understand what happened.’

‘Yes, bitches never understand,’ I wanted to say; instead I switched off the phone.

‘She must pay,’ I muttered under my breath, remembering how she had been the one to start it all when Mope – our other friend – got pregnant. It shouldn’t have been our concern or even mine and at that moment I cursed BlackBerry and the opportunity it provides for meaningless discussions to happen. She had been the one to send me a message saying Mope was pregnant. I hadn’t seen anything wrong in it as long as the father was ready to marry her but she had insisted that it was wrong and selfish of Mope, that she had been too desperate and must have intentionally gotten pregnant just so the man could marry her.

I had been reluctant to judge and had simply said ‘it’s not a big deal as long as the guy marries her.’

‘No, he is not marrying her,’ Bola had announced. She had added that she didn’t feel any pity for Mope and neither should I. Fool that I am, I had gone with her to Mope’s place a week later and instead of providing her with succor, I had joined in lecturing her on how it was bad to be pregnant out of wedlock. You would think I was a virgin with the way I had acted all sanctimonious delivering my lecture. I had told her how I believe a woman can decide when or when not to get pregnant and that it was such an insecure thing to trap a man with pregnancy.

As expected, it had been a big problem when I got pregnant myself. How do I face the same people and announce that I was pregnant? Wouldn’t I look like a hypocrite? And so I had decided to terminate the pregnancy. It sounded like the easy way.

Sitting there and looking at the phone in my hand, I told myself it would have been easier to apologize to my friends for being a hypocrite and let them know I was pregnant. Isn’t that what Bola is doing now? I asked myself.

‘I am a joke.’ I muttered, ignoring the circles Jite was drawing on my shoulders. Bola’s situation was even worse, yet she was having her baby while I had aborted a baby whose father was ready to marry me.

‘Baby what’s wrong? You are not looking too happy,’ Jite said, turning my face towards him.

‘Jite, Bola is pregnant.’

‘She is? ‘That should be good news. Aren’t you happy for her?’

‘I am, it’s just that the father is married.’

‘Oops! That’s a tricky one and wrong too, but don’t forget she is a grown woman and is responsible for her decisions so that shouldn’t make you feel down.’

‘Yes,’ I replied absentmindedly.

I had a sudden urge to tell Jite everything but I was sure it would be a bad idea. So I decided it had to be the secret I would carry to my grave.

I resolved to concentrate on getting pregnant and at the same time look for a way to make Boladale pay.

____

We left few minutes later. I had lost interest in everything and just wanted to leave the beach and set the plan forming in my mind in motion. It was simple; give an overdue apology.

We entered the room. There was a note on the freshly made bed. It read, ‘Dinner at 7’. I checked the time; 6.05pm. Time enough to do this, I thought, slipping out of my beach wear.

Jite’s back was turned to me; he was trying to remove his wristwatch.

I went down on both knees and held his leg.

‘Baby, what’s this? Why are you kneeling?’ He asked, turning to face me.

‘Please Jite, let me remain this way. I need to be on my knees, I want to ask for your forgiveness.’

‘Fine, but please stand up and put on your clothes.’

‘No, Jite, let me be like this. Please indulge me, please my husband.’

‘Okay Omoboye, but I don’t like you kneeling like this before me; it makes me feel like I am maltreating you.’

‘You are not, Jite. I just want to say some things. I might sound stupid, in fact I think I will sound stupid, but allow me and please don’t laugh. Please.’

He nodded and so I began;

                                                              ‘ Before you, Jite,

                                                               before your blessed presence,

                                                               naked I kneel…

                                                               a prodigal…

                                                               lost in your love…’

                                                                         An aching prodigal,

                                                                        kneeling at your feet

                                                                        An aching prodigal,

                                                                 Who would make miracles

                                                               To understand the simple given

I was so afraid he would laugh, but he didn’t. He just pulled me up when I was done and hugged me hard.

‘Christopher Okigbo, Heaven’s Gate,’ He said simply, pulling back to look into my eyes.

I nodded.

‘Jite I am sorry, with all of my heart, soul and body. I am sorry. I truly regret aborting that child.’

The tears were streaming down. It was easy to cry, I was feeling real pain, the anger and thirst for revenge forgotten for the moment.

****

She is so beautiful. It was the only thing I thought of as I looked at her face; she wasn’t looking at mine, she just kept murmuring about how sorry she was. I felt my heart ache.

‘It’s okay baby. Please stop crying. I am also sorry for how I have been. Please forgive me. I shouldn’t have been that hard on you. I am sorry.’

‘Jite its okay, I deserve everything that happened.’

‘No, Boye you don’t. Love forgives all, I should have forgiven you and I had no excuse for cheating on you. I am so sorry about that, please forgive me. I promise to cut all ties with Bisade. I won’t even wave to her if you don’t want…’

 ‘Sshhhhh’, she said, looking into my eyes. ‘It’s okay Jite. I forgive you.’

I was relieved; it felt good to finally admit that I was wrong. She pressed her body to mine and I rubbed her bare back.

‘Boye, we should still have some minutes before dinner right?’

She only nodded.

‘How about putting that time to good use?’

‘How about skipping dinner altogether?’ She replied.

‘Skip dinner ke, baby you would need that food oo because I intend to exercise my right as a husband this night and I must warn you it might be a bit exerting.’

‘I can’t wait Jite.’

Much later, after we had made love for what seemed like the hundredth time, she asked a question;

‘Jite, do you still have the condoms?’

‘Baby, don’t tell me you are now addicted to those things, just when I was thinking we should get you pregnant.’

She smiled then running her fingers through my hair.

‘Would you forgive me if I said I gave them out knowing this Island would hate such things?’

‘No baby, I would not forgive you, I would have to punish you for that,’ I added placing my lips on hers. I felt a sudden raw hunger as I kissed her, something feral in me had woken up and needed to be appeased. This was my wife, my woman and I was ready to stake my claim.

*****

My sweet snoring husband, I whispered smiling as I removed his hand from where it lay possessively on my chest. I sat up on the bed to gaze at his handsome sleeping face. I was so happy I could actually forget that I needed to deal with Boladale and Bisade. My body ached deliciously, I felt so good I wanted to whistle. The night had been incredible, looking back I couldn’t believe how wanton I had been, the moaning, the repeated orgasms and how my body contorted itself into several awkward positions. It had been an experience to always remember and for the first time since our wedding day, I felt alive, loved and married.

 I ran a hand over my flat stomach, wondering if I could be pregnant already. God knows I had more than enough spermatozoa to perform the job swimming inside me.

Why did it take me so long to apologize? I thought suddenly

It was a question I found hard to answer. Perhaps I am a proud person after all, I reasoned, wondering why I had always seen myself as humble.

To think I kept telling God I was sorry, asking him to forgive me while neglecting the human I wronged.

My husband was here and it was major. My heart constricted with love as I remembered how during one of the bouts of sleep that we had during the night I had gotten out of bed to use the toilet. He must have woken up and realized I wasn’t there. It was his voice that brought me out of the toilet.

‘Baby, Sweets where are you?’

I had been out in a flash, alarmed at his tone.

‘Jite, I am here, what is it?’ I asked as he wrapped me in a warm hug.

‘I woke up, I didn’t see you, and I was worried.’

‘Worried how? What could possibly happen to me here?’ I had asked, my heart glad at being so loved.

‘Nothing, Baby. Nothing will happen to my wife. Now let’s go back to the bed.’

I still wanted to use the toilet but I didn’t have the heart to say so. Not with the way he held me.

The shrill sound of Jite’s phone broke into my thoughts and also reminded me that my phone was still switched off.

‘Baby, check who is calling,’ Jite said in a very sleepy voice.

‘Baby when will you stand up or we are not going out today?’ I asked, walking to the table where the phone was.

He mumbled incoherently.

‘The caller’s name is Skipper,’ I said, shrugging as I heard his snoring become renewed.

See, I am not the type of girlfriend or wife that checks her husband’s messages or goes through his call history and so I would never have seen the message if Jite hadn’t installed an SMS flasher on his phone.

Just one word caught my attention before the message disappeared; ‘Sweetheart’. My first thought was who the heck was calling my husband sweetheart and then I went to the inbox to check the message. It was from the person that had called earlier; Skipper.

‘Sweetheart, we need to talk as soon as you get back, there is a big problem on my hands here and you are the only one that can help with it. I Love you.’

‘Sweetheart’, ‘problem’, ‘only one’, ‘Love you’; words that stuck out and brought a dull ache to my temple. ‘Who is Skipper?’ I muttered under my breath, a memory dancing on the fringes of my mind. There was something about that word, ‘skipper’ that was familiar, only I couldn’t place it. I knew I would remember if I put my mind to it but first I deleted the message and the call record.