Old Beginnings

I woke up to the noise outside as every single staff member in my father’s mansion tried to ensure the success of the traditional wedding of my arranged marriage.

Looking out the window, I watched the wedding planner carry flower vases from one angle to the other, unsure of where to leave them. Of course, she was confused. She couldn’t afford to deliver mediocrity after all the zeros my father wrote on her check.

Just then, my alarm blared and I looked at the time.

“9 am. I guess they wanted me to have my beauty sleep so I can look good for my in-laws. Still, this is a nightmare. Ever since Poppa introduced me to my husband-to-be, I have been unable to enjoy a good night’s rest. How did I end up in an arranged marriage with Femi?! How?! God, why me?”

I was still lamenting and sulking when my mom stepped in. She peeped into the room and only walked in when she confirmed I was awake.

“Tolani baby, I was so happy to see you sleeping soundly this morning that I decided not to wake you up even though your team of makeup and hair stylists arrived over an hour ago. You should bathe and go to the dining hall to have your breakfast so we can begin, dear.”

Immediately after she finished speaking, she was on her heels back to arranging only God knew what. I fell back on my bed, screaming into my pillow. My nightmare was about to become a reality. I was about to get married to my ex; my first toxic love.

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The wedding came and went without incident. I had hoped something would miraculously happen to stop the wedding from going through, like someone getting caught on fire, but I wasn’t so lucky. Femi eyed me throughout the entire occasion. I couldn’t tell if he was happy or angry by the entire thing.

At some point, while our parents were discussing, I caught him staring at me fondly. I was shocked to see that he still had so much love for me in his eyes. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was reassuring.

“Maybe getting married to him might not be such a bad idea. We were very in love with each other at some point in our lives. He might have changed. Still, I can’t believe daddy would resort to something as archaic as an arranged marriage in the 21st century. I’m sure all my girls are laughing at me to scorn me right now.

I, Tolani the untameable, reduced to an arranged marriage. And of all the men, Femi, the community manager.

Oh God, I hope he has changed. I know dad was worried that I was getting old, but I was only trying to ensure that I married the man I wanted. At least there were better options before Femi. I should have just picked one for myself before allowing dad to pick for me. Shit!”

It was only four months into our marriage and Femi was already staying out late. The first three months were bliss. We were literally on vacation for three months. Dad sponsored an all-expense paid trip to Dubai for three months as our wedding gift and promised to still have another special gift waiting for me, his baby girl, upon my return from our honeymoon.

Femi surprised me by being and doing everything I have ever wanted in a man. Without my asking too. It was almost as if dating each other before gave him an edge over making me happy. He knew everything I liked and how I liked them.

He knew the right flavour for what, how I liked my eggs fried, the types of concerts to attend, everything. It was like being happily married to my best friend. I wasn’t even this happy while we were dating. When we were much younger, you’d think he would care more about stuff like that.

However, a month after we returned from our honeymoon, I found myself sitting in the huge living room, staring at the grandfather clock, every night, waiting for my man to return home from work. I was devastated.

At first, he used to apologize for coming back late, while slapping on a flimsy excuse like an impromptu meeting after work hours. However, as time progressed, even the excuses stopped. He started getting bolder and more verbally violent. He would come home drunk and hurl insults at me when I asked questions. It eventually became difficult to talk to him.

I don’t know if it was because I got quiet, but he eventually started bringing women home. He started with his secretary whom I had been suspecting for months and he had waved off while we were still enjoying our honeymoon phase.

Now, he no longer hid her. He brought her home and ordered me to serve them dinner. Then, they would go to the guest room to continue their “meeting” as it was too late for her to go back home. I would hear them “working” hard till the early hours of the morning.

My husband had no respect for me or our home anymore. He brought in every stray cat or dog that needed a place to spend the night. My own home had become a brothel and I abhorred it. I was only six months into my marriage but I wanted out of it. I didn’t need to see a psychiatrist to know that I was already mentally scarred from my experiences.

Not to mention the regular visits from our parents and siblings that subtly hinted at how there wasn’t a child running around the house yet.

“How can I raise a child in a home where his father brings in different women every night? What if, God forbid, my son stumbles in on his father while he is disgracing himself? What if?! I can’t even imagine the horror.

Right now, I’m too scared to even let him touch me. Only God knows if he even uses protection in all his expeditions. I don’t want to get caught in the crossfire. Yet, I somehow need to keep lying to both our parents that we are trying our best and that they should expect a baby soon. Ugh! I knew marrying him was a mistake!”

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Today is the celebration of our first anniversary. Still, no child. I get a text from my mom filled with prayers and wishes for myself and my husband.

My husband…

I stared at the man sleeping soundly beside me and remembered all the quiet mornings I woke up to stare at him like this during our honeymoon. It was funny then, now that I think about it. I would stay up for hours staring, then pretend to be asleep when I noticed he was about to wake up.

He tossed and revealed his chest full of hair that had been hiding under the sheets.

This was supposed to be all mine, but you shared it to everyone and made it a community commodity. Now, I can’t even enjoy my own man anymore.

If he had been generous enough to remember our anniversary, I do not know, because before the previous night, he had not slept on the same bed with me for months. It was painful seeing him there, but a part of me was also happy. Maybe he did remember our anniversary, and maybe this was the start of a new dawn for us.

I waited patiently for him to wake up and when he eventually did, he simply strolled to the bathroom, showered, dressed and left for work.

No good morning my love, or happy anniversary baby, or thank you for standing by me this past year? Nothing at all?!

I cried hot tears that morning and picked up my phone to read my mom’s message again. The last paragraph haunted me for hours before I stood up to prepare for work:

Happy birthday Tolani dearest. I pray God continues to fill your home with laughter and happiness. I also pray that God finally answers your prayers and grants all your husband’s efforts with a child this year in Jesus Name. Remember, I’m always here for you my dear. Greet Femi for me and tell him not to spoil you too much today oh! Cheers!

My mom actually thought I was in a happy and loving marriage. She actually believed my husband was spoiling me and trying hard to have a son with me.

“How have I kept this thing secret from her all these while, when she used to be my number one confidante? This thing is eating me deep inside. Not to mention the heat I’m getting from Femi’s mom. She has been trying to convince him to get another wife since I’m not very ‘fruitful’. At least Femi defended me. Still, I can’t continue like this. I just can’t.”

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A week passed and I went to greet one of my friends in my office during my lunch break. I was told he was hospitalized after receiving a beating the night before, on his way home. His name was Tife.

According to his work partner, the shocking thing about the whole incident was that nothing was stolen from Tife. Someone approached him, shouted a few words at him and beat him to a pulp. I hurriedly asked for the details of the hospital and rushed to go see my friend.

When I got home that evening I couldn’t eat or cook or even watch TV. I just continued to replay Tife’s words to me at the hospital that morning. He told me that a man had approached him, called him an adulterer, and accused him of trying to steal his wife.

He said he would never forgive anyone that laid a hand on his wife, and if he ever found out that he took her out anywhere again, he would break his legs. After that, he simply vanished.

“I honestly can’t believe this. Femi didn’t even wish me happy birthday even if our marriage anniversary meant nothing to him. He woke up from the same bed I laid on and he didn’t utter one word before leaving.

I got to the office and met a surprise mini party organized by Tife, and he took me out to lunch, carefully adding that he was sure my husband already had plans for my dinner that he could never hope to disrupt.

Now I’m seeing all these. All these from my community manager of a husband. Gosh, I’m so angry! How dare he get possessive when he has been sleeping around?! I just remembered, I haven’t called Tife to check on him since I got home. I think he should be getting discharged tomorrow. Let me do that now.”

Femi strolled right into the living room like the devil he was. He didn’t say a word to me as he took off his suit jacket, loosened his tie and removed his shoe. He took calm, measured steps towards me and gently collected my phone from my hand, before turning back to continue walking towards the guest room.

At first I was too confused to understand what had just happened. After taking several seconds to process what had just occurred, my eyes opened wide in shock at the significance of it all.

Femi just seized my phone! Like he literally just walked in and seized my phone like I was some ten year old under his guidance. What the fuck am I even experiencing under this man’s roof?!

“Femi, this is the height! I’m not going to take this bullshit anymore. Give me my phone right now, you can’t be seizing my phone like I’m a kid!”

“You are not going to disgrace me in public by sleeping with your work colleague shamelessly! You even have the guts to call him in my house! The nerve of this bitch! You will come and collect your phone from me, you shameless whore!”

The next day he brought two women home and three of them went at it till day break. I didn’t see him till he was leaving with them, suitcase in hand. I didn’t understand what was going on and when I attempted to ask, he mumbled something about going on a weekend cruise with friends.

It was the last I saw of my husband until two weeks after when I got a call at the hospital requesting for my blood type so they could transfuse blood to my dying husband. I jotted down the details of the hospital and drove faster than Brian O’Conner in 2 Fast 2 Furious. He was a lying cheat but he was still my husband.

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When I got to the hospital, I saw my husband lying on a bed and writhing in pain. I forgot all about my grand plan to act disinterested when I eventually get to see him. He had been involved in a car accident and sustained deep second degree burns in various parts of his body.

According to the doctor in charge, he had asked Femi to contact me three days before when Femi had been rushed in but he refused. When he saw that his situation was only getting worse and the pain was getting more severe, he decided to call me, his wife.

I couldn’t believe my ears. My own husband got into a car accident and refused to call me. It was only because one of the stitched wounds opened up again that the hospital decided to call me against his wishes. Yet, I had to share my blood with this man.

We had always joked about how perfect we were made for each other that we had the same blood type in case of emergencies. That was many years ago when Femi still loved me, when we still sat under starlit skies to talk for hours about our future together. I was living in that future now and the only thing I had to show for it is regret.

I agreed to the blood transfusion and immediately the nurses started the procedure. After speaking with the doctor I asked for recommendations on good surgical clinics I could take Femi to for his skin grafting surgery. After paying all the necessary bills, I went home to cook for him and bring him a change of clothes.

When I got back to the hospital that evening, I saw my man waiting for me. He was sitting up, bandages all over his body and huge chunks of tears in his eyes. He fell on my chest and wept bitterly as he narrated how he had planned to go on a one week trip with his friends and some girls. They had a lot of fun and squandered lots of cash when he had refused to give me money for upkeep as he was leaving the house.

Unfortunately for him, he got into a horrible accident on his way back. All his friends fled him and all his female friends deserted him after seeing the pictures he sent them requesting for assistance. He had spent all the money he had in a hospital over there, so he had to come back here where he knew his bills would be less expensive. He said he didn’t want to tell me because he knew he had messed up big time and he didn’t know how to explain it to me.

After everything, he held my hands in his big, strong hands and apologized deeply to me. He didn’t hold back on the tears at all. I looked deep into his eyes, trying to see through whatever scam he was plotting.

‘Once bitten, twice shy’, they say.

I held his face in my palms and kissed him softly. No matter what, I still loved the man.

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I am running out of the house so I pull another Fast and Furious driving scene on the road when I remember little Maggie is still sitting quietly in her stroller waiting for me to remember that I forgot her inside the house. I rush back in but stop midway to apologize to a smiling Femi who is already pushing Maggie out of the house.

Kissing him hurriedly, I try to collect Maggie from his hands but he stops me. Holding both my shoulders, he mouths the words “I love you” and waves me off.

When I got home that night, I noticed the lights were off. I switched the lights on to see a rose trail lead up to the dining hall where my hunk of a husband stood seductively with his broad arms directing the array of dishes he had paid out for us.

“Happy anniversary Tolani and happy birthday, my love. I’m so grateful I get to spend the rest of my life with a woman as precious as you. Thank you for all this time. I am truly grateful.”

“What will I do without you, my love? I almost gave up on us at some point, but thank God I didn’t. It was a very trying time, but thank God I persevered. You know what? How about a toast?”

He stared at me with one brow high up and it made me giggle like a schoolgirl.

“A toast? To what baby?”

“A toast to old beginnings.”

I saw the confusion in his furrowed brows and decided to ease things up for him with an explanation. No point making a toast he doesn’t understand.

“We once dated but it didn’t work out. We got married and our relationship got even worse. I almost gave up on us but right when I thought I was done, I saw myself running back to you and I wanted to start again. I’d call us old flames but I don’t want a toxic kind of love between us anymore. So, here is to starting what we couldn’t finish before. To old beginnings.”

He chuckled, shook his head and nodded.

“To old beginnings.”

All images are sourced from unsplash & istockphoto