I watched her walk into my apartment with uncertainty in my mind. I didn’t know what to make off what she just told me. Of course she could be Jake’s younger sister or something like that. She settled into my couch and I noticed the huge rock on her finger and her flawless black skin, like it had been polished to perfection; she reminded me of a black Barbie doll I had once seen in a magazine. She looked perfect. Strangely perfect.
I saw her pull out a pack of cigarette from her small Chanel bag. “May I?” She lit it without waiting for my response. I walked over to the couch opposite her, without sitting down. I didn’t know what to say.
“ I am sure you think I am Jake’s sister to douse the pain about to implode in your heart. Well, I am not. I am his wife. We have been married for a decade.”
Please no…this can’t be true…someone tell me I am dreaming… my head was spinning.
I sat on the couch while she watched my reaction to her news, taking a drag of the cigarette and dumping the ashes carelessly on my soft Persian rug.
“I can see what he likes in you; the big breasts and big African nyash.” She laughed sadly. “This is my second breast surgery, you know. The first one wasn’t as big as this but I guess he will like this one better because I told the doctor to make my nipples larger. I figured it was what he liked so I travelled out to get them pumped. He hasn’t seen them yet. Can I get a plate or saucer for the ashes?” The way she said it made me feel like a guest in my house. In my shocked state, I walked into the kitchen, got out a saucer and contemplated taking a knife with me just in case things got a little nasty. She didn’t look harmful though, so I took a bottle of water and a glass cup. If she tried being crazy, I will smash the cup on her Barbie face. My hands trembled as I poured a glass of water in front of her. So all this time, Jake has been married?
“Here.” She passed me her phone and what I saw was a picture of Jake with three boys and Aura. They were all smiling in it. Curiosity made me scroll to the next picture and it was Aura and Jake, in a selfie at the resort. I passed the phone back to her.
“What do you want madam?” I asked.
She squashed the cigarette dramatically. “That is a very dumb question, my dear. I came to explain something to you.” She cleared her throat. “Jake does this every year before his birthday because he is afraid of getting old; he meets a girl he fancies, splashes her with money and then gives her the life she only dreamed of. To him, it is like giving to the poor or hungry. Like a charity event every year and this year, I guess you were the lucky one. He gets over it though because I make sure the relationship ends by giving him something like a boob job or botox to make him feel like he owns me. He likes owning people.” She laughed again before continuing. “Did he tell you he is a pilot? Because that is what he tells the other women so that you wouldn’t question him when he travels or goes MIA on you when he is with his family.”
OMG! I took a sip of water and blinked back the tears begging for a free fall down my cheeks.
“I am so sick and tired of his midlife crises drama, Abigail. We love each other very much but his damned dick won’t stay in his pants, chasing after everything in skirts…and sometimes trousers.”
My eyes flew open at her revelation. What did she just say?
I am sure she noticed the shock on my face because she smiled sadly. “Awww. You didn’t know he does men too? You haven’t heard of Tombara? That one is a model and lives on the Island. Very established guy, he has a fashion line for stockings and that was from no other person but Jake. I am a little surprised because you are under-qualified. He likes his girls or men, rich and established.”
I bit my lower lip. I am under-qualified?
“I wanted to send someone there to kill Tombara but I just figured out a new plan so I will deal with him later. That man whore will pay later. I wanted to do same to you but I figured that as a woman, you will understand a lot better and from the private investigation, I realised you are a lot easier.”
I got up from the couch and tried to still my trembling hands. “Please leave my house.”
“You asked me what I want; I want you to leave my husband. Leave this house and return the car. Help me keep my marriage.” She looked pitiful and for the first time, I saw a little bit of me in her; always desperate, willing to hold on to the lies even when the truth is staring back at you in the face.
“No” I didn’t know when the word came out of my mouth.
“Excuse me?” I saw anger flash through her eyes before she plastered a smile on her Barbie-botox-injected face.
“I said no. I will not leave Jake. I will hear the truth from him myself.” I was not even sure of what I was saying but I felt this surge of rage flow through my veins. I wanted him and so did she and this time I will not just let someone else have what I want.
She got up and walked to the door. Before she opened it, she turned to look at me. “I am sure you think you know where Jake’s balls are, right? No darling, it’s not there. His balls are in my palms and I can twist or squash them when I want to. Because you suck them or lick them and he enjoys it doesn’t mean you own them, honey. Write your obituary, I am sending you to hell if you dare play with fire.” She slammed the door on her way out.
I stood there, looking at the door for a long time. My feet hurt and I felt too numb to cry. I went into my room and locked myself in. In the comforting darkness, all I wanted was to hear from Jake, I wanted him to tell me it wasn’t true. That he felt something for me and that I was good enough. Isn’t it funny that he was the one breaking my heart and all I did was want him more to give me peace?
I dialed his number endlessly but he didn’t answer and the tears broke out. Burning, angry tears that made my head hurt badly. Thank God I had alcohol that night. I drank to forget and to numb the pain.
I didn’t know how long I had laid on my bedroom floor, in my vomit. No one came for me except haunted dreams of my dead baby and a resounding noise from somewhere around me. It sounded like my phone but I couldn’t find it. In an attempt to open my eyes, blinding sun rays filtered through the purple curtain and I immediately shut my eyes again. Gradually, I tried remembering how I got here.
Lonely night…knock on the door…Aura…Jake… Jake is married… “Write your obituary, I am sending you to hell if you dare play with fire.”
Tears welled up in my eyes again. I slowly began to imagine slitting my wrist and how much pleasure that will bring to everyone. No one will miss me. Aunty Alero has Jumoke, my mother will be excited and then the office will come to the funeral out of respect and I will rot in hell, where I was destined to be anyway. It sounded okay to die, to end all the drama. I heard my phone ring again and as I used my hand to feel for it around me, I found it in my vomit. I squinted to see the name on the screen and felt disappointed that it wasn’t Jake.
“Babe where are you?!” It was Ogama.
Upon hearing her voice, I ululated. “Ogama…” I gave her the address to the apartment without saying any other thing.
“Are you okay Abigail?”
“I will be there now.” Ogama said.