We sat down to dinner.

Nine of us.

Two couples.

Five singles.

Two of us who were there as singles are actually married.

One of the married singles is a demure looking female with her heart of gold.

Her husband works in Nigeria.

In a multinational oil company.

A well paid engineer.

Supporting his wife and three kids in Canada, while also visiting every other month.

She is a homemaker who spends some of her time taking online courses to obtain a masters degree.

It was a quasi intervention.

To save her from him.

For he had just returned back to Nigeria after his two weeks stay.

A time at which he relaxed with the kids and her.

Made consensual and non-consensual love to her.

And beat her thrice.

One of those times was mercilessly.

She was wearing sunglasses and had a scarf wrapped around her head to hide the bruises.

Two of the singles and myself listened in horror as she recounted her tales of woe.

It was the first time she was opening to her friends concerning the hell hole that was her marriage.

And when she was done there was a deep silence as we tried to reconcile the gentleman we knew with the monster that had been described.

One couple began prescribing prayers.

Another one wanted to physically speak to the husband.

The last single one who was also married but was there without her husband spoke angrily.

"Are you staying there because of money? This is Canada, there is money and housing for abused women. Patapata you will go and work in McDonalds. The kids are in Catholic school and that one is free. My sister, leave him this very minute. In fact go to the cops and show them your injuries. They will seize his PR card and when he comes back to Canada they will arrest him and throw him in jail. If you stay back in that marriage and take being treated as a dog then you deserve it. Over my dead body that any man will raise his hand and hit me. I will destroy that man's life. He is lucky he is not married to me."

She continued ranting.

We continued listening.

Everyone amused at the irony.

For she who was advising so angrily is married to a notorious philanderer, who had actually slept with her own cousin, her nanny and her best friend, in addition to using her as a regular punching bag, yet she is a most dutiful wife with an iron clad marriage.

A situation she pretends is secret and yet is on every lip.

The married single who was being advised looked up at her.

Her aura was a mix of weary irritation and feigned excitement.

Hands clasped together on the table.

"Let's do it together."

"You and who?"

"You and me."

"Me and you?"

She repeated it more to herself.

And when the married single who was being advised nodded.

She exclaimed.

Theatrics.

" Ah! Koseegbe. You want to scatter my marriage? Is it because I am advising you, you want to now be comparing your useless marriage with my own?"

Silence.

She continued.

"Please dress and stay on your lane. Did I complain that my marriage is bad? See me see trouble o. Lackayana with myself. If you do not want advice, why did you call us?"

Toronto.

Culled from Mr. Jude's collections