LOVE CONTRACTOR: A journey for two
(Dedicated to men like me who still work and toil, just to deconstruct their own Tower of Babel. And to women who are in a constant struggle to understand just how we got ourselves so entangled with this inner beast.)
Hey, you… Yes, you know its you am talking to. You failed to say that you’ve found another; that you’d probably soon be getting married.
You felt it is too heavy and too painful to break such news to her. She might hate you… might even die! You cannot imagine the thought of being the cause of such misery on a gentle creature that gave you everything; even her virginity.
So whenever she calls and her name and picture appears on your phone’s screen, you do not pick the call. It keeps ringing; oh that same face with luscious lips that seem to get fuller by the day.
(O boy… you still no pick… you no fit tell am!)
Your wife Emoh walks into the room; slightly bulged in front. Her chest now swollen from several midnights of victory. She had heard your phone ring, so she walks inside the room expectantly. “Was that mama” she asked. The sound of her hips settling on the mattress is like back then at 6yrs old when mother hits you with that soapy sponge right on your face; suffocating, smouldering… but, be clean you must.
(Then you say it… the first lie… your first stringing of a long spider web soon to grow into the biggest curtain ever to seperate man from woman!)
“No… darling, its just these pesky networks, random calls… Shouldn’t these people be sued for constituting such nuisance? Imagine disturbing my sweet dream!”
(Big boy… Champion! Master of the game. Same game… one you played throughout college. One you thought you’d long since left behind; the monster demon is back… Contractor is back on site… Permanent site!)
Again your wife Emoh; she believes your story. She looks assured; her smile lighting up the room again, like a child at christmas. Then she pulls out a list and snuggles closer so you too can read clearly. It reads:
LIST OF THINGS STILL NEEDED IN THE KITCHEN:
1. Potato slicer (cos Kelo likes his chips very thin)
2. Palm oil (cos he likes his stew very red)
3. Apron (cos he hates seeing me with kitchen stains)
4. Bread knife (cos he hates sliced bread… too thin for him. lol)
5. Extra plastic chair (so he can join me to gist while cooking. loool)
Then, suddenly the list veers off into a bunch of crazy notes, as if she were talking to herself in a cloud like trance:
I luv my boo… Kelo is my life… he loves me just the way I want… Good man… funny lol… handsome… Honest… Honest… soft spoken… One day all our dreams will come true. I will have this baby, and we’ll all become the closest family ever! Everything we ever want to be. Happy and of course blessed by the Most High… Then I will have my birthday coming up in December… Then our first anniversary… OMG!!! I will kiss him before bed everyday till I die… Oh, and Lord, pls dont let him change EVER! And then we’d sit down and talk about work every day… our friends and colleagues… and our baby’s 1st day at school!!!! Oh, and Lord, if its a boy… pls let him look like Kelo, and let him love his wife and respect her just the same way Kelo loves meeeeee…”
Finally, the words end, and your attention returns to the writer. “Baby, this is the list? You mean we got every other things from the wedding gifts?”
Her reponse came just as swift as her arms swung across your chest. ” Yes dear, my mum got us everything we gonna ever need; just that she forgot these ones.”
Your phone rings again; she’s the one… those lips all over your screen… You look up, and wifey is back reading her list… too distracted to even notice.
You break a sweat, and there’s heavy pounding in your chest. You gently squiz the silence button, and gently walk into the bathroom.
You hear her leave the room as that door trembles shut. Then, you glance once more into the phone screen. Her eyes; her hairline… the rings around her neck. Another movent inside your chest. A rising sensation swirls through your body.
You switch to SMS mode and begin to type something… ” I am busy right now my butterfly. Will be free later tonight. Call you to fix when am coming. Luv, forever and a day.”
Blip blip… Its her reply. You still marvel at her online speed. How she reads your messages and replies within seconds… “Hey boo. Was wonderin wats wrong wt u. Glad u owk. Just listening to John legend and oping you’d come and do things to my body right now. I kno wat u goin thru, and i can imagine u being wif sm1 u dont luv… sm1 you cant luv. I knew u had to do it cos of pressure; buh like i said, i forgive u baby! Am willing to stay cos i kno where ur heart is… I kno who u really luv… Pls dont be feelin so bad, so long as u come see me when i want. Waiting 4u like a boiling hot chili pepper! Luv u wit no regret.”
Now, my voice comes in a whisper:
(Mr. Contractor, you now have a big project in your hands; the kind Julius Berger will die for. Should’ve dealt with it then, but you chose not to. Now, its between two giants and you’re right in between. Good luck is all I can wish you cos I know this slippery slope. I know it leads you everywhere, and nowhere.
Now, you must be counted among the wicked, among the demons, and the fathoms!)
Ladies, sorry i take up so much of your time when i post these things. Dont really mean to. Its just that whenever I miss my queen, I cry, or I write.
Share this with your man, if in your heart and soul you’re as innocent as Emoh in this story. Its a real struggle; really not about throwing blames. We can all make it, if we try to understand, rather than to blame each other into a ball of fire!
May God continue to help all good relationships to survive. Amen