“Your love for me is waning, I’m losing you”
Her oversize boubou which sometimes doubles as her nightgown hides the clenching of her hands. She’s wringing her hands now as though the words induce pain. She’s beautiful still, even with her brows furrowed as though in concentration. It’s the extra concentration which holds back the tears that threaten.
His reaction, if it can be called that, is a casual wave of his hand; he reckons she’s overreacting as always.
“I love you Nkem, but I hate it when you fret”
His words of reassurance tumble reluctantly. He reaches over and pulls her to himself and in one fluid motion, he arcs his neck to kiss her on her lips.
She finds herself staring at his slender fingers; she used to tease him about it. “Your fingers are so beautiful they should belong to a woman” were her first words to him when they were introduced.
It tumbles into other memories; Nkem remembers another time, when his lips would make her dizzy with love and light headed with lust. It feels like ages ago already.
Today is different, for the first time, she feels nothing- first she waits for the familiar thrill that always accompanies his husky declarations of love whenever he kissed her; but as he says
“Nkem, you mean the world to me”,
She feels nothing- just an unfamiliar indifference. She reluctantly tells herself she has lost him.
“You taste of her”
The words seem to utter themselves; and they break gingerly before she has a chance to take them back.
His cringe is automatic and there’s real hurt in his eyes now. He turns to his now familiar flailing of his arms that always signals his nervousness. It’s funny the little things you discover about a person when you’ve spent so long with them.
“Why do you keep bringing this up? You can admit it wasn’t my fault but you’ll never miss any opportunity to hit me over the head with it”
He’s raising his voice now as he gets off the bed to face her.
“If I could undo it, I would! But the deed is done; you can either forgive and forget or just leave me!”
She smiles a wry smile; she always knew it would come to this.
“What did you expect for sleeping with your secretary, a medal?”
His rage tips over and his incoherent words as he storms out of the room hang in the air
“I didn’t sleep with her!”
*
“Did you tell him yet?”
It takes Nkem a while to look into his eyes, and when she kisses him, she feels things, and the butterflies in her stomach are back.
“Yes” she answers finally
*
The silence of the house coupled with the darkness is unfamiliar, he starts to wonder if she’s home. One flick of the switch and the living room is bathed in the brilliant white light of the fluorescent.
It catches his eye at once; the note on the centre table because the centre table is usually bare. The folded piece of paper reveals a handwriting he recognises at once; the words are burning;
“I couldn’t forgive and forget. Goodbye”
Her oversize boubou which sometimes doubles as her nightgown hides the clenching of her hands. She’s wringing her hands now as though the words induce pain. She’s beautiful still, even with her brows furrowed as though in concentration. It’s the extra concentration which holds back the tears that threaten.
His reaction, if it can be called that, is a casual wave of his hand; he reckons she’s overreacting as always.
“I love you Nkem, but I hate it when you fret”
His words of reassurance tumble reluctantly. He reaches over and pulls her to himself and in one fluid motion, he arcs his neck to kiss her on her lips.
She finds herself staring at his slender fingers; she used to tease him about it. “Your fingers are so beautiful they should belong to a woman” were her first words to him when they were introduced.
It tumbles into other memories; Nkem remembers another time, when his lips would make her dizzy with love and light headed with lust. It feels like ages ago already.
Today is different, for the first time, she feels nothing- first she waits for the familiar thrill that always accompanies his husky declarations of love whenever he kissed her; but as he says
“Nkem, you mean the world to me”,
She feels nothing- just an unfamiliar indifference. She reluctantly tells herself she has lost him.
“You taste of her”
The words seem to utter themselves; and they break gingerly before she has a chance to take them back.
His cringe is automatic and there’s real hurt in his eyes now. He turns to his now familiar flailing of his arms that always signals his nervousness. It’s funny the little things you discover about a person when you’ve spent so long with them.
“Why do you keep bringing this up? You can admit it wasn’t my fault but you’ll never miss any opportunity to hit me over the head with it”
He’s raising his voice now as he gets off the bed to face her.
“If I could undo it, I would! But the deed is done; you can either forgive and forget or just leave me!”
She smiles a wry smile; she always knew it would come to this.
“What did you expect for sleeping with your secretary, a medal?”
His rage tips over and his incoherent words as he storms out of the room hang in the air
“I didn’t sleep with her!”
*
“Did you tell him yet?”
It takes Nkem a while to look into his eyes, and when she kisses him, she feels things, and the butterflies in her stomach are back.
“Yes” she answers finally
*
The silence of the house coupled with the darkness is unfamiliar, he starts to wonder if she’s home. One flick of the switch and the living room is bathed in the brilliant white light of the fluorescent.
It catches his eye at once; the note on the centre table because the centre table is usually bare. The folded piece of paper reveals a handwriting he recognises at once; the words are burning;
“I couldn’t forgive and forget. Goodbye”
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