Rosemary33:
Seventeen
Martha
You must be thinking I’m crazy.
Yes…I just heard that come out of my mouth. I am crazy. And stupid. And an insensitive fool. How did I get here? One moment I had the world at the palm of my hand because I had everything going on for me—well, most of it. The next moment, I was feeling like burying my head in the sand like an ostrich.
Lucky had become my undoing and my woe.
I should have known this would happen, should have recognized the shadow of deceit around the mask. I thought Luck knows the Lord? Could swear with everything I held dear that his intention was noble this time—only that I didn’t want him.
Everything had happened so fast. The kiss that left me gritting my teeth, curbing nausea that overtook me—churning my stomach. Michael walking into that shameful scene. The slap. The…Lucky had called her a LovePeddler!
That slowpoke. That disgrace of a man!
How was it that I’d never seen this side of him? The shameless imp had hidden his Darkside so well while presenting himself as a child of God!
Ha! Martha. How did this skip your observation? If there was one thing I knew how to do, it’s seeing through people. But I seem to have traded my sense for a bowl of pap the day Lucky walked back into that office and in my life.
God: You had the privilege to hear my voice.
Jesus! It was all my doing—I saw the amber, it should have warned me off but rather, I was drawn to it. Like a moth to fire, I danced around it.
What was I thinking?
Trying to be nice, to prove…what exactly?
Every muscle, every nerve in me strutted with anguish as I remembered the look on Michael’s face. The hard stare he gave me when I asked if he would stay a little longer. I saw my shame in the mirror of his eyes. Shame and something else… Disappointment? Sadness? I wasn’t sure because he had remained as calm as still water—except for that moment when Lucky called me a LovePeddler and something had snapped inside Michael…
“Madam, Madam.”
At the tap of a hand on my shoulder, I tore my eyes away from the emptiness I’ve been gazing at for the past…how many minutes? Hoping the car that drove him away would bring him back.
“Everybody don enter the house.” Enter house? As in retire for the night? How would I even sleep knowing that I’d ruin my chance with a good man? “Security people go soon come ask us what we dey do outside,” my gateman added.
“That’s true.” I wouldn’t want to add ‘being embarrassed by the estate security to my already ruined day.
One last glance at the empty street and I dragged my feet inside, trudged into the house and slumped on the sofa.
It was as if my emotion was waiting for me to be in this enclosure before it ran wild. As soon as my butt touched the piece of furniture, I released a cry, near the sort of scream one might hear from an emotionally wounded person.
“I’m so sorry,” I sobbed, curling in on myself and burying my face on a throw pillow. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know if I was apologizing to God, to Michael or to both of them—even though I couldn’t feel any of them at the moment.
Not feel any of them…That shattered me and dragged a gut-wrenching pain through my body.
“Take not your holy spirit away from me,” I murmured amidst sobs. “I need you.” And I need Michael. Don’t allow him to walk away…
God: Call him.
What?
God: Call him.
But he wouldn’t…
God: Obedient, Martha.
Jerking to my feet, my eyes made a quick search for my phone and then I remembered I had it in my handbag which I must have dropped outside.
“Madu! Madu!” I shouted my gateman’s name, heading outside. “I dropped my bag here, did you…”
“See am their nau.” He pointed. The bag was seated comfortably on the interlocked floor.
I made a little run in that direction, snatched the bag and my hand groped inside it and came out with the phone as I walked back inside.
With my heart in my mouth, blood pumping fast in my ears and my inside jittering as if I was deep inside Ice-cold water, I dialled his number.
He wouldn’t pick…
He wouldn’t pick…
He picked!
Jesus! What do I say to him? How do I start?
“Martha?” His voice, that low vibrating tone of one who just woke up from sleep, floated into my ears, knocking me dumb and shamelessly desiring that I was…he was…” Martha.” he called again, his voice firmer and I guessed he just rolled to his side on the bed or maybe…pulled himself to a seating position because I heard the mattress groan.
“You picked.” That must have been the most stupid thing someone had said to him over the phone because I heard him chuckle.
“You called.” He replied, releasing a vibrating breath. Even without trying, Michael could get me flushing all over. “Are you okay, Martha?”
“Yes…no…oh Jesus.” Why was he acting as if tonight didn’t happen? He’s making apologizing hard. “Michael.”
“Hmm?”
“I’m sorry.” I wish I could say that a million times until I could convince him that I was ashamed of what happened. “What you saw…” Wasn’t what he thought? How I hated that ‘caught in the act cheating partners’ cliche. Hated it the day brother John Bosco— My fiancee number two, said that to me when I walked in on him sucking and handling our church’s chief usher’s voluptuous chest-melons in his house, snorting and suffocating on the pair like a pig digging the ground with its nose.
I even loathed it more when fiancee number last—before Michael— spew the words shamelessly, four months after he called off our engagement and had married some lady from his village. I’d wanted to know why… to know whether there was something other ladies had which I wasn’t blessed with.
It’s not what you think—A phrase used by stupid cowards.
Yet, I was about to say it to him.
“I had no excuse,” I said rather. It was better I own up to my stupidity. “I’m so foolish and senseless…”
“Martha…Martha…” He cut in. “Don't do that.”
I felt my heart constricting and breathing became difficult. I knew he wasn’t going to listen to me. Who would blame him? I wouldn’t listen to me if I were him.
“I won’t allow anyone to use those words on you, and wouldn’t have you use them on yourself.”
Did I tell you earlier that breathing was difficult? Well, now my heart stopped entirely—Not literally. I stood dumbstruck for God knows how long, trying to comprehend whether I was dealing with a man or an ethereal being.
He’s supposed to be angry. To allow me to hurl insults at myself because I deserved it. Why did he stop me from doing that?
Who’s this man?
“So, go ahead. I’m listening, just don't use those words on yourself.”
“I…I hurt you so much today, I’m sorry.”
The silence that followed was worse than emotional torture. Tightening my lips to a thin line, I waited for him to say something. Mentally pleading that he should speak. But he remained silent, only his periodic sigh that grazed into my ears announced that he’s still there. Listening.
“I’m so sorry,” I repeated.
“He kissed you.” Though his tone was low, I could taste the edge in his voice. Could picture his face creased in disgust.
“No…”
“No?”
“No...I mean yes…But…I didn’t permit him to do that.” God! How do I explain this without sounding foolish? “He…he grabbed me before I could stop him.”
Another silent beat.
“Who is he to you?” He was calm and I hated it. Hated it because I didn't want him to be like that, wasn’t even expecting that he would pick my call!
“He’s Just… a colleague,” I said.
“You know that’s not the whole truth.” But it is! What else did he want to hear? “Martha?” He added. The way he used my name, like a British duke, Martha? With that impeccable foreign accent.
“He’s my colleague…” I pictured him raising a doubting brow. “I…we…” I wasn’t sure If I could call the brief thing I had with Lucky, a relationship. “We dated briefly. Years ago but things didn’t work out.”
“What happened?” I heard the mattress croaked again, he must have laid back down or rolled to another side.
“He left Enugu and stopped calling.” Now he’s back and has sworn to either get me or ruin me. “It was an innocent date.” So I thought. “I didn’t know all these would happen. I’ve never even given Lucky the impression that I have feelings for him because I don’t! There was a party in the office…”
He listened while I narrated what happened and what led to it.
“You love him?” He asked
“Jesus, no!” For the life of me!
We slide into another silence.
“It’s okay.” He finally said.
Okay? Just okay? Did he mean that or was he trying to politely tell me, ‘Thanks for waking me up to bore me with your story, now you can get off my phone?’
“You…you are not going to say anything?” I asked. It’s okay isn’t just okay for me. It sounded more like a polite dismissal.
“I just said ‘it’s okay.”
“But it’s not enough…” I almost cried. What man remains this calm after witnessing his woman being kissed by another man? It’s not natural. This reaction, this serenity he’s fronting.
“What would you rather have me say?” Shout at me, voice your displeasure, tell me how low I acted and how disappointed you were… “I must confess I was disappointed when I saw the both of you.” He added.
There… that’s better.
“I came to atone for what my daughter did to you. I came because of you. There was no meeting anywhere. It was just because of you— You took away my happiness when you wouldn’t pick my calls nor reply to my messages. You made me restless.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No woman had ever made me this weak and…” He swallowed the rest of the words. “I couldn’t stand it that you are mad. At me. At my daughter.”
“I wasn’t mad at you.” I couldn’t be mad at him, I love him.
“I thought I could surprise you.” He sighed. “Then you surprised me.”
“Obim, please.” What have I done? How do I clean the mess I made?
“I was red with anger and jealousy.” Jealousy? He was Jealous? And angry and… “You don’t know the torture, the pain I go through each time I hold you in my arms, have your face so close to me, you beautiful mouth an inch away from mine and yet I let you go without sucking on your lips until both of us lose breath.” His voice sank even deeper—rich, raspy as if I was with him and he was speaking into my ears.
“Mi…”
“I dream of running my fingers on your skin, kissing and ravishing every part of it and having you do the same to me. But that’s how far I could go. Dream. Because the bed mustn’t be defiled.”
Jesus! What was he doing? Deliberately arousing every sense, pulling on my lust. I could feel my essence clenching. Not just because of his words, but how he said them.
“Only for one…” he paused. “For that boy to…”
“I’m sorry, Michael. I didn’t allow it. He just…”
“It’s okay.” He cut in. “I believed you.”
“You… do?” I should be happy but I wasn’t. Wasn’t even sure how to react to his abrupt forgiveness that sounded like a dismissal. “Michael, please…tell me what to do to make amends.”
“Nothing, Little woman.” He just called me…little woman? And I couldn’t believe that having him call me that now would make me want to laugh and cry at the same time.
“Then come back,” I said. My hand flew to my mouth immediately, maybe to stop me from sobbing out loud. “I want to see you.”
A ripple of smooth laughter floated into my ears and I couldn’t stop myself from joining in. “Do you know what the time is?” He concluded the laughter with a chuckle.
“Then I’ll come to you. Tell me where to find you.”
“You’re crazy, You know that?” That I was. Crazy and desperate to make amends even though I didn't know-how. “I will not allow you to step out of your house this late. Martha, It’s past ten pm.”
The tension between us was ebbing, I could feel him relaxing and actually enjoying our talk. “Then tomorrow. You’ll come tomorrow.”
“Good night, little woman.” He was laughing again.
“Will I see you tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. I have to meet with the minister for land properties tomorrow morning.”
My face sank. He wasn’t going to come to see me again Finally ooo... Thank you sis for the update  1 Like |
