Birthday Gift

I didn’t love her. Not because she wasn’t pretty, smart, or sexy enough. Or because she was the umpteenth woman who thought she could trap me with her bedroom gimmicks. Whatever i felt for her died after I climaxed and combusted on her face and or wherever she let me. I knew she didn’t love me either, and that was totally fine by me. Her feelings and affection were money feelings but we were both happy at the end of the day. Well she got to smile everytime she swiped the gold credit card I got her. Me on the other hand, I just wanted a submisive, to feel in control and taste the goodness of the beautiful women the universe has blessed me with. I am bored of my marriage, but the truth is that isn’t even why I cheat. Sex with Bella is great, double orgasims in 10 minutes great, she got her body back in shape 4 months after the birth of our twins. I don’t think there is anyone as good a cook as she is. Her fashion sense is off the hook, a career woman, a flipping good wife and mother to our children. It’s been what? 12 months since I last touched her, but still everything runs smoothly. Her love for me keeps waxing stronger, at first she would cry whenever I refused her sex and ask if it was her. Then she went on that crazy 28 days detox diet. Her revenge body was pretty impressive, but I still didn’t see  her in the light of a sex symbol. I began seeing her as more of a mother than a wife. Well we all know mother and boner don’t sound well. She finally threw in the towel when I went with Jide’s lie and told her i had an erectile dysfunction. Keeping the lie wasn’t difficut because I returned home spent out from crazy sex marathons with whoever was warming my bed at the moment. I couldn’t even get myself to tell her I love her. Not because I couldn’t, but because I didn’t feel like I did anymore.

About 12 month’s after, Here I am on my 38th birthday, supposed to be having a meeting with potential investors in South Africa. Instead an exgusted 20 something vixen lay above me with her perfect 36dd’s, just 45 minutes away from home. My younin and I were supposed to catch a first class flight to JB the next day. For some strange reason I wanted to be with Bella. She told me the kid’s were going to spend the weekend at her sisters. I just wanted to get stuffed with her extra spicy lobster bisque, then have her extra chocolatey chocolate cake for desert.

I was going to go home, tell her I changed my mind about the meeting and just snuggle up beside her, watching Shawshank redemption or unusual suspect till we dose off. I got my small chops off me, signed a check and told her to go on without me to JB, and promised to meet her up in two days. Of course she pretended to be surprised, sad, and upset. But i really could care less about whatever fake emotions she was acting out as I put my jeans and snatched my car keys from the bed side lamp. I drove past Dolphin, and remembered there was this pretty flower shop Bella always made a fuzz of. So i decide to get those beautiful chrysanthemum flowers she loves and a bottle of her favourite wine.

Two stops, and some songs from Kendrick Lamar’s to pimp a butterfly later, I was home. Flowers in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, it almost felt like the stench of adultry was shedding of my being. I knew it won’t be long before I got bored and took off to be with my youngin. But all i wanted was to enjoy tonight like old times. I didn’t ring the bell or call Bella up because I intended to make my arrival a surprise. Sliding in through the front door like a rebellious teenager, i figured Bella would be up in the study working on some final draft for the company or making sure everything with the orphanage was fine. Tip toeing through the familiar pattern of my home in the dark, as I tried to find my way without knocking down anything. I opened the study door with hopes of seeing Bella curled up on the puff, in her favourite oversized sweater, tapping away on keys from her laptop as she took notes. But to my surprise the study was empty. The only refection of light came from the  CCTV monitor at the far end of the room. I still wanted to surprise her, and opening everyother door in the house wasn’t going to help. So decided to find out if Bella was home, if yes where in the house she was. I prayed silently that tonight wasn’t one of those nights she’d get all up in her feelings, crying herself to sleep, going on and on about how much of a terrible husband I am. That wasn’t how I was hoping to spend my birthday weekend.

I looked at the tiny boxes of images on the monitor showing the kitchen, living room, parking lot, pool area and other parts of the house. Everything looked like still images of the house. No movement, no sign of life. Well except for the master bedroom. I could see movements underneath the duvet covers. I clicked on the image to enlarge the soundless footage of a strange man in my bed, my wife crawling out from under the duvet naked, as she leaned towards the man, going in for a deep passionate kiss before proceeding to ride this strange man…

Love Abenii

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Theory of passion

 

   PERSONAL PERSPECTIVE ON THE THEORY OF PASSION

Just as I stood in front of the TV, watching these children talk about various ingredients and recipes on CBS’s Man vs Child. I totally forgot about how late I was for work and how my boss would have my head. I just stood there with my shoes hanging on my fingers as my office bag struggled to stay on my shoulder. The little Asian girl, not older than the age of seven was competing with a grown man of about 45 years of age or older, the snow of white hair crowding his faint blonde hair made it a bit tasking to know if the white hair was from stress or age. He struggled to keep up with the little Asia culinary dragon as she chopped thing and explain what she was doing and why it had to be done that way, to the judges and her fellow teammates, The eldest being thirteen years of age. In her cameo appearance the little Asian culinary dragon explained how much she loved cooking. Explaining recipes, and various food escapades with friends and family. She spoke with so much passion and courage, it was evident she loved cooking.  My eyes were still fixed on the little culinary dragon as though I was in trance as I watched her chop some greens with such expertise. The strong vibration of my phone snapped me back to the present. Dropping my shoes as my office bag found it’s way to the ground, I rushed to pick up my phone, it was my Co worker Rasheeda in her usual alarmingly high pitched voice asking why I wasn’t at work at 8:20. I stared at the time on my phone in disbelief, I had been watching the show for about 30 minutes. I told her I was on my way and begged her to cover up for me.

On my drive to work I couldn’t help but remember the pretty little dragon in the CBS studio kitchen, chopping and chatting with so much enthusiasm. She obviously loved what she was doing and she is nothing short of favoured having found something she is crazy about and could make a decent living off. I tried to think of exactly what it was I loved, something that could bring the kind of professional fire I saw in that little girls eyes. I mean I love something’s Film making, entertainment, food, writing, and other stuff. But I just couldn’t get myself to pin point exactly what it was that I was crazy about enough to get me that excited.

I’d like to believe that everyone has something they are crazy about, something they see themselves doing for the rest of their lives. Not because it is what they have settled for, but something they are genuinely invigorated by. Something they truly appreciate, believe in and would do irrespective of what they get from it.

Whatever it is you are passionate about comes naturally, with little or no effort. Brushing up to get better at it will come to you as a walk in the park instead of a tiring chore.

You just haven’t found whatever it is you are crazy about, or rather it hasn’t found you. It’s in there somewhere all it needs is a little push. Its okay to wait it out by being open minded and professionally versatile until your crazy finds you.

But there will be no mistaking when it finally finds you. No experience is wasted, test the waters and if you are brave enough, take a dive. Whatever the outcome.. We move still.

Love Abenii

Memory Woman

Wednesday the 12th of January 2017. Exactly a year, 14 hours, 17 minutes and 45 seconds after Martin and i both died. I was rather unfortunate enough to wake up 3 months after, with a blessing and a curse. Mostly the latter. Martin on the other hand got a first class ticket to hell or wherever it is the afterlife decided to accommodate him.

7 month’s pregnant with a black eye, wearing my favourite nude silk nighty without the robe. The bell rang for the 5th time in ten seconds. As i hurried out of bed, half asleep, running down the stairs three flights at a time. Past the dinning table that held the dinner i made 5 hours ago. One last turn and i unlocked the door on the 14th ring. I prayed he wasn’t too drunk this time, but as always he was about 5 shots or more past the drunkometer. He slowly entered into the house, walking past me, and headed for the room. No complaints, no abusive words, which was downright peculiar. It was the first time in forever anything like that would ever happen. I took a long deep breath, locked the door and headed for our bedroom, got back in bed and tried to sleep. He lay silently beside me his back against mine without uttering a word. Eight minutes later he requested i brought him dinner. Once again i went down the stairs, warmed up his food and plated his dinner. A half full glass of water, a guava and a knife for him to slice it with becsuse Martin didn’t want anyone doing that for him. He sat up as i plated his dinner in front of him, giving me a long stare, his eye’s fixed on mine, his eyes were blank and emotionless, the effect of the ivory, alcohol and maybe Juju’s green made his pupils look dilated. I knew that by 2pm the next day he wouldn’t remember anything he did the previous night, ask that I forgive him, buy me something expensive. Most likely something from one of those exaggerated designers with complicated names i wouldn’t ever be able to pronounce. I knew this Because i could tell this was going to be one of those hellish nights and he would wake up as sorry as sorry could get. As i started to go back to bed he held my hand, piercing my skin as his nails dug in from his tight grip. Still silent, this time he wouldn’t look me in the eye. His eyes looking down at our unborn child like he just realised we were expecting. The silence lingered for a minute and 18 seconds, i knew better than to walk away, so i just waited. The silence continued for another minute then he asked the most mundane question ever.

     ” Why did Buhari sell us dreams?”

I didn’t have an answer to the question, well i did have an answer, but it sure wasn’t the answer Martin wanted to hear. Hell, i didn’t know if the man was for or against Buhari that night. So i took a deep breath, looked at him and then the dinner that would soon be flipped over and said;

   ” i don’t know Martin, people aren’t always who they seem to be”.

He looked at me as if trying to translate what i just said from gibberish to something that made actual sense. He squeezed my hands really tight and then he suddenly let go, his palm covered his face, he looked at me once again before flipping over his dinner. I froze at the noise the plate and cutleries made as they met with the floor. This was it, another long night of yelling, crying and a blacker eye.

He began mumbling stuff i couldn’t hear and then got up, he was still fully dressed. He wore the white shirt I’d gotten him for his birthday and a True religion jean. He was sweating profusely though the air conditioning was on full blast. He grabbed my arm and made me face him.

” look at me you dumb bitch, look at me!”

As i met his gaze he slapped me and pushed me to the bed. He struck me two more time’s. Once on my neck the other on my stomach. He then ripped off the sleeve of favourite nighty. Sweat dripping down his face and saliva splattering on me as he yelled. My head hurt but that was a walk on the beach compared to the excruciating pain that came after Martin struck me repeatedly on my stomach. I tried to curve into a ball and protect my baby from the recurring blows but it was no good. I knew things were going to get way worse if i dared move, but i wasn’t going to let Martin kill our child. I’d rather he woke up the next day with our baby safe and sound in the walls of my tummy than letting him beat her out of me. I struggled to get him off of me. His grip was firm, his hand’s wrapped firmly round my neck. I could feel myself begin to fight for air as we both fell to the ground. I managed to land a strong resounding kick at the back of his knee, giving me some seconds to crawl into the living room. My legs were numb and I could barely stand as i grabbed the arm rest of the two sitter and tried to steady my breathing. That was usually the end of the brawl, Martin would tire out and pass out some minutes after but this night was different. He came out of the bed room sweating more than he was earlier, he looked like a totally different man. I didn’t know who that person was and the look on his face suggested whatever was left of Martin wasn’t any good. I tried to make my way to the other room and shut the door till whenver Martin’s crazier alter ego was gone. Six quick steps in and he charged towards me with great force and i fell to the ground with him landing on top of me. The effect of his weight was unexplained. It was then i realised he was holding his guava knife. I struggled to get him off me, kicking, biting and scratching my way to freedom. I was finally able to land a direct punch directly to his left rib. He rolled over at the effect, dropping the knife. I picked it up and crawled my way through the ebony centre piece and other pieces of furniture that were now in places they weren’t designed to occupy. As i made my way to the stairs the smell of blood hit me, not from my head or any other part of my uper body. The blood was sliding through my thights and  covered what was left of my silk nighty. My head hurt like hell and my vision was becoming blury. As i tried to make my way through the first flight of stairs Martins dragged me back. Landing an effective blow on my side , still holding on tight to the knife, i cut him by the calf and tried to free myself from his grip but the cut didn’t seem to have any effect on him. He was suddenly numb. He tried to get the knife from me as he locked his legs firmly around me.

“” it’s you and me baby, till the very end”

Those were the last words that came out of his mouth as we struggled for the knife few inches from the stairs. I knew we were going to roll over the marble stairs if I’d stabbed him right there. The chances of me surviving was zero to none. But what the hell! I’d lost my baby and i was as good as dead. At this rate Martins was going to kill us both, why not do the honours? I thought. The knife cut through my arm as i used all the strength left in me to turn it ninety degrees towards Kene and plunged it into his stomach. He froze! his entire weight lay on me as we both went down the stairs. I felt my neck and other vital bones break as it came in contact with the 30,000 dollar marble Martin specifically ordered from Italy. The man did love his marble. That was the last time i saw Martins. A knife plunged into his stomach and his birthday shirt covered in his own blood.”

Hyperthymesia is what scientists call it. A perfect memory, an autobiographical memory. Most people are Born with it, but my neuroligist says mine is a rare case. The effect of the multiple hits my brain suffered as i hit those flights of stairs rewired and woke up parts of my brain that normaly should be asleep. That was Martins gift to me. He made sure i remembered every single detail of his existance for the rest of what was left of my life. Voluntarily or not, my brain could dial up the perfect memory of that night. Now a year, 15 hours and 56 minutes i am standing exactly where it all happened. For some reason I feel the need to revisit where it all happened. Where it all ended and where it all began.

Np: This post was insipred by David Baldacci’s Memory Man.

Love Abenii

In a nutshell

Just as I was about to take two steps away from him, to reduce the growing tension between us, he put his arms around my waist and drew me in. The only thing between us now was my trembling hands and his beating heart. Suddenly Engulfed by waves of vulnerability, shyness and weakness as he gently kissed my trembling lips, then looking at me as though waiting for a go ahead before going in for a proper kiss. Slowly and softly at first in a manner that sent shivers that made my whole being tremble. My arms circled his neck for support, pulling him closer against me as i parted my now steady lips to kiss him back.. But he slowly began to fade into a hologram, before everything around me went pitch black.

The annoying vibration of my alarm began to buzz uncontrollably as I struggled to open my eyes to see myself surrounded by Moliere – Soyinka and other Modern African comedy text books on the floor of my apartment in Uni. My one sided migraine was still in control so i decided to snooze my alarm and sleep for an extra 20 minutes. I searched the entirety of dream land for the stranger in my dream to continue from where we left off, but he was long gone. All I was left with was my project supervisors face yelling at me in her funny Igbo accent to submit the bonded copy of my final project before the 5th of September. The sudden sound of my favourite mug hitting the ground, spilling out the green tea it held wakes me up fully. It is 7am and it is the 5th of September 2016. The last day of finals and hopefully my last day as a student in university of Abuja. The weather is annoyingly hot, the loud sound coming from the generators filled the atmosphere. Although my fan is on full blast, I find myself sweating out my disappointment and nervousness. 20 minutes later i am out of my apartment strolling down to the main road to get a bike. I had about 8 hours before my last paper so I decide to take a long walk to school with my project in hand as i leave the deafening sound multiple generators behind me. I make a stop at Oga Yunusa’s shop to buy crackers and Ribena to kick start my occasional thought filled long walk.

I really couldn’t believe it was the last day of Uni for me. Where did all those years go? wasn’t February just 2days ago? when I overslept and nearly missed out on the commercial shoot for the guyz at box-office?

Didn’t I just spend one of the best valentines day ever with Tayo and Moh?

Didn’t the most amazing 10 year old i know just ask me to be her best friend?

Wasn’t it 3 days ago when the guyz at green gate killed our cat? ( I love you Parkash)

Didn’t i just turn 21 some hours ago? Didn’t i just move on from a friendship of 5 years that got tangled in a web emotions and stupid feelings?

Wasn’t that supposedly beautiful sallah morning when Hawa called to let me know Taofeeq was dead minutes behind me? And exactly a year I lost Iman?

Didn’t Teni just bake that amazing cinnamon and apple cake for sally and I?

Didn’t I just discover that Calabar woman’s bomb ass Afang soup three days ago?

Wasn’t it an exhale ago when majority of Nigerians were enthusiastic about Buhari and his campaign promises?

Didn’t I just explode my taste buds from trying the awesomeness of Abula (Gbegiri and Ewedu together)?

Didn’t i just find out there was a huge mistake in my result? And I might have to suffer an undeserved extra year?

Wasn’t a dollar 198 some minutes ago?

Wasn’t “waste his time 2016” just trending on Twitter?

Where did time go? Wasn’t i just 17 some days back? How did most of these things happen in a span of 9 months?

As i strolled into school lost in my thoughts, a hand touched my shoulder and a strange funny voice asked where i was going. I looked up and it was Towbi! Shocked and speechless, i hug him in a full embrace as tears fill my eyes. He felt really embarrassed and asked that we go to his car. As we walk towards his car I try to fight back tears, I still couldn’t believe he was right there. We hadn’t seen in over a month and I didn’t even know he was coming to Uni. But there he was, when I literally needed a shoulder to cry on. He asked what was wrong and all I could do was hug him once more, just laugh hysterically, and crying in between as I let myself be overwhelmed by these mixed emotions. I didn’t know exactly why I was crying but it felt like the most natural thing to do and I just let it all out. jokes about his muffin top, his relationship and a twenty minutes long drive later, he drops me off at school.

Fast forward to end of September, at the editors meeting, Towbi announces that I am the new Editor- in – Chief of the brand. I just stand there eyes wide trying to process the big news. Lost of all emotion I freeze up and remember how it all started. Time after time I have both disappointed and come through for Towbi and the brand. In all honesty the former mostly being the case. But he still thought me worthy and put me in charge.

Despite all these eventful months, I must say I had a very blessed year. I lost people dear to me and I met really talented, amazing, funny yet evasive and sometimes button pushing, hardworking people. I found out new things about myself and discovered my strengths and learnt to control and work on my weaknesses.

I moved to a new city and opened a new chapter in my life. Whelp I’m still the same silly, supposedly funny, evasive, caring and sometimes cold,  person Rahee thinks i am. But like every other year, i have grown and copped 12 months of life’s lessons and experience nearly for free. With God’s endless favours on me and my loved ones.

Rahee, Kulu and Mukky finally decided to settle with the love of their lives, ( because they were greedy and didn’t want to have to share me) they decided to get married and move away with just a month interval between them ( imagine what my fragile heart had to endure?) still can’t believe i have to share my guyz with someone else. But on the bright side i got to eat more than enough party NIGERIAN Jollof.

Like every other year 2016 was an eventful year for me. And I am more than grateful for everything that happened and how it happened. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I did a lot of strategic planning in 2016 and i intend to execute the practical aspects, read and write way more this year. Starting with being more active on the blog. i know i have been the most inconsistent with my posts but i promise to step up and serve my readers with a minimal amount of grammatical errors and an overdose of fictional stories and articles as from next week.

Furthermore, I’d love to welcome everyone to the year of Dexter’s Laboratory (The movie), the year of Ed Sheeran’s return, the year of Spider man, Logan and the other amazing movies We’ve had to wait ages for.

Lastly and most importantly I’d like to thank everyone for visiting the blog, reposting, sharing, supporting and enduring my endless bc’s. Happy new year.

Without wax,

❤❤❤

Sefinah Lamii.

Love Abenii