WATERLOO; Interesting article by @Bani_shed
Well, there was only one way she could settle the score. She would murder him. He
stole her life, now she would take his. Oh but ever so slowly, she would take him
apart piece by piece so she could savor his destruction.
Everything was perfect.
Maribel had taken extra care. The quaint apartment she shared with her husband,
Philip Ndu who doubled as her Major General was entirely spotless. She made sure
to dust every surface and shine the black leather sofas to perfection. She could
literally see her face in them. After that, she expertly laid out a steaming bowl of
fisherman soup with neatly molded pounded yam, lump-free of course. This was
how she spent her days, weeks and years.
All in service to her man, Philip.
She really could not complain about the cleaning and cooking. Her mother told
her it was the pride of every woman, that their husbands were pleased with them.
Also that she was setting a good example for her daughter, Tochi. Her late
mother’s favourite line was, “dutiful wife, happy home”. She had never heard that
saying elsewhere; it was just her mother’s mantra she passed on. That was not the
entire reason she loved to do house chores. Overtime, she learned that you had to
love what you had no option to avoid. If not, depression was sure to be a faithful
companion.
The workload also helped her forget. As she washed dirty khaki’s and school
uniforms she could hardly recall her dreams of practicing law and standing before
erudite judges and changing lives. She always fancied the idea of working in Legal
Aid and actually working. Popular opinion was that lawyers there did nothing and
earned salaries but while in LASU, she had hoped to change that. Oh but these
clothes would definitely not clean themselves not to speak of ironing. She laughed
at herself, how silly she was to imagine such things.
That was what Philip called her. Silly. After she weaned Tochi and expressed her
desire to pick up where she left off before their marriage he laughed in her face. A
hearty, ringing laugh of scorn. “If I needed assistance in this house, I would have
married a man, not a woman. Just know your place”. With that, he turned over
and went on his Samsung galaxy phone.
These words were engraved on her heart.
After he said that, she quietly went to the kitchen to cry. She had never been one to
confront another. As she sat on her kitchen floor she thought of all the things she
could have said like how he promised her that her dreams won’t die because of him
or how he said they were equal and not independent of each other. He had lied.
She had believed. How silly of her.
Eight years later she regretted only one thing, her cowardice that night. If only she
had been braver and not naïve and “in love” or thinking it was a phase, her life
would have been different. Her wig and gown would not have been laden with
dust.
Or what would have given her anxiety would not have been if the periwinkles were
too much in the soup or if his gators were sharp enough.
She did it to herself that she was sure of.
She deserved to have her goals and aspirations relegated to the background.
However what she was certain she did not merit was his infidelity.
Her soul had been offered up to this man and he did not respect her enough to be
true to her. He thought he was smart and cunning, “playing a fast one on his
household wife”. Little did he know that for the past seven months she had been
aware of his standing affair with his colleague. From her investigation she was his
fourth long term relationship within their marriage. A married, working class
woman who was of average appearance!
The most aggravating part was the normalcy of the woman. She could not
decipher what led him into her bed.
Her name was Martha Obiandu. She was married with three children from
different men.
Martha was everything her old fashioned Philip should abhor but no, he could not
keep his sergeant at ease.
There was a loud domineering alpha male knock at the door that broke into her
thoughts. Ah! Philip is home she thought! She looked at the food which was already
laced with cyanide and skipped towards the brown bolted door.
WATERLOO; Interesting article by @Bani_shed
Akolokwu Anwuri
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