Beginning Again 5 (Aunty Janet's Story)

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“She’s been having a series of nightmares in for about a week plus”

I laughed out loud and relieved “You mean you came all the way to tell me about Toke’s nightmares? I thought something was terribly wrong with her”

“I wouldn’t have bothered you if the nightmares had nothing to do with you”, that got me.

“What does the nightmare have to do with me?”

“She screams you name each time she wakes up, and when I ask her what’s wrong, she just starts shaking and crying, so I decided to check up on you and now meeting you in tears with a bruise on your face…..Sis, what is going on? I am getting worried”

I heaved a sigh of surrender “It’s Phil. He slapped me yesterday because I reported him to his mum”

“Whaaat? How can Uncle Phil do that to you? Don’t you have a right as his wife to talk to his mum?”

“Hmmn, he wasn’t offended I talked to his mum, but reporting him is what I think got him mad”

“Still….he shouldn’t have raised his hands at you. What kind of a man is he?”

“Maggie please, don’t talk like that about Phil. He may not be the best of men, but he is trying”

“Trying? In what way exactly? By raising his hands at you? He should just wait till mummy hears this”

“Maggie, you will do no such thing” but she had picked her bag and was leaving

“If you tell mummy, that will be the last thing about my marriage I will ever tell you again. I am glad you are getting married too, you will come to realize that it is not everything

Our parents should know about”

“But Sis, I don’t…..”

“No buts Maggie, No buts at all”

After Maggie left, I cleared the dishes we both used after her insistence to cook something spicy for me. At least, that is one thing I can’t fault Phil for, he always ensured there was enough to eat at home, so my freezer had enough in store to aid Maggie’s cooking bout. While she was at it, I went back to the room to change my work clothes to something comfortable. I popped in to help her in the kitchen but ended up gisting about different things – the wedding, married life, ex-boyfriends, friends that were doing so well and otherwise, mum & dad’s recent escapades, brothers’ progress and by the time we were done, it was almost noon. I didn’t allow her do the dishes, it was my turn to shoo her out of the kitchen. I wanted to do it at my pace to take my mind off thinking of my current predicament. I wondered if they missed me at the office, why anyone didn’t try to reach me, even my seat buddies (I later learnt that Phil had gone to the office to report me sick). Well, for the moment I knew I was alone. I didn’t even know who to call. I had given up on friends for a while, since Phil made it impossible to keep some. The only intimate friend I had was out of the country with her family and because of the distance and time zones, we could only communicate on schedule. After the dishes, I turned on the TV, nothing interesting, I decided to go pick a novel and read. While searching for a novel, I stumbled on my unfinished book that I had been writing when I met Phil. I picked it up after giving it a good dust and was inspired to read what I had done so far.

Two and a half hours later, I decided I was going to finish the book no matter what it takes. The book was a historical book about how marriages were conducted in different parts of the country and a bit of personal experiences on if the marriage worked or not. I had always been curious about the nature of marriage ceremonies in the different geopolitical zones of the country, most especially arranged marriages. My mother had told me of her near experience of being matched with another guy from a “noisy” family background (as she put it), but she stubbornly refused and opted to marry my dad instead after her father had given her a six month ultimatum to bring another man she wanted to marry or he married her off to the one her mother chose. My mum further explained that she had only escaped the matchmaking because of her father’s soft spot for her as the only surviving daughter, out of six children and that her other peers were not so lucky. Some of them went through hell to keep their marriages because they couldn’t leave, some had good marriages and a few, very few left their marriages when it was unbearable. One thing was obvious from the stories she told me, marriages can be sweet or otherwise. I began to wonder which side mine fell.

I resumed work two days after. My colleagues were eager to know the nature of my sickness. “Abi you don chop cockroach?” (Are you pregnant), Tokoni, one of my office corner buddies chimed.

“Hmnn, why are you so overzealous Tokoni? Won’t you even allow her some space to settle in? Kelechi, my second office buddies countered her.

“What is your business? Are you the one I am talking to? Tokoni replied

“It is my business, because she is our friend” Kelechi fired back and I knew it was time to intercept. You see despite being my office buddies, Kelechi and Tokoni were always at each other’s throat because of their different personalities. While Tokoni was the wild flower, always on the move to anywhere groovy, knew all the hot spots in town and eligible men in our line of work, Kelechi was the mild one, full of advices and rules on self-discipline. I could say I was the balance between both of them and while it is always fun to watch them go at each other, I had to stop them because I was not in the mood that morning. 

“Can you both please let this pass? Is this how to welcome your sick colleague back to work by bantering?

“Well then answer my question now, are you pregnant?”

As I opened my mouth to answer, I felt nauseous and ran to the toilet, throwing up the tea and bread I ate before leaving home in the morning. As I rinsed my mouth and face, I looked up at my image in the mirror before me. “What is going on? I asked myself “or am I really pregnant?”