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My Life Sucks!


I did not die.

I woke up to an empty house. I think I half-expected Tunde to take the day off on my first day in his house. In Nigeria, you can call off from work at the last minute and everything would be fine. But, as I would find out later, in America, you don’t do that. Every hour counts. You have to pay the bills.

I wasn’t in the mood to see anyone anyway. When I woke up, I listened hard to make sure there was no one in the house. Then, I got up and found the note under the door.

“Aya mi, hope you had a good night. I’m off to work. There is food in the fridge. I’ll see you later, oko re to to, Tunde” the note read.

For the first time in my life, I felt like killing someone. If Tunde was in the house at that moment, I would have taken a kitchen knife, carved out his heart and hung it on the front door as an example for every dishonest men.

His note basically said, “My wife – hope you had a good night. I’m off to work. There is food in the refrigerator, I’ll see you soon, Tunde, your true husband”.

This man is not only a lying, cheating scumbag. He’s also heartless.

I walked around the house in a daze. I didn’t eat the food in the refrigerator. I wasn’t hungry. My stomach was filled with grief. My heart was aching. I hated myself.

How did my life get to be like this? Why didn’t I take the hint in Tunde’s voice when we talked on the phone before I left Lagos? Now, I can see why he didn’t suggest I run to America when I told him my father was trying to marry me off.

I didn’t feel bad for myself. I despised myself.

I was due for a promotion to branch manager in two years in my bank in Lagos. It was a position that came with a car, a house, a cook, a steward and a big expense account. Before I left Lagos, I had a flat, a used car and a maid.

I left all that for love. I bought a ticket to hell.

Tunde came home first. He had that silly grin he always wore on his face when he was excited. silly me, I used to think that grin was cute. Now, I can see it for what it really is – a silly look on a grown man’s face.

“I left work early. I did some shopping for you,” Tunde enthused as he handed me a bag of clothes and shoes.

The bag slipped off my hands and fell to the floor. Tunde grabbed it and shot me a confused look.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Somehow, that question snapped something in me. I grabbed the bag from him and flung it at the television. Tunde ran to the 42-inch television, catching it before it crashed to the floor. He steadied it back on the wall and turned to me.

“You think this is easy for me?” he asked.

“Stop patronizing me. I am not a fool. I’m not going to play your silly games!” I screamed at him.

“What games? This is for us, our future. I need the papers for us,” he pleaded.

“There is no us. There is you and there is me,” I yelled.

“I know you’re angry. But, just reason with me right now,” he said, holding my hand.

“Don’t you ever touch me,” I said as I yanked my hand away.

“You can’t do this. If Sandra knows what’s up, we’re both bleeped. We’ll both be in Lagos before the weekend,” he pleaded.

“That’s your bag of wahala”, I replied as I stomped up the stairs to the guest bedroom and slammed the door shut.

I didn’t open the door for the rest of the day. I don’t know what lie Tunde told Sandra. But, she didn’t bother me that night.


http://bosediary.com/2011/02/13/my-life-sucks/