“Sunshine. Sunshine. Are you awake?” Eric pressed tiny kisses around her face and she giggled.
He smiled and kissed her lips then and she became fully awake. “Sunshine, I want us to talk.”
Oleng looked at him then albeit sleepily then everything came crashing down. The real world struck her with a heavy blow. She sprang up on the bed.
“Jesus! What have I done? My God! What have I done?” she lamented and quickly got up from the bed to pick up her clothes. She dashed into the bathroom to hurriedly dress up. She tried to finger comb her weave which was in a disheveled state. She kept asking herself what she had done.
“Sunshine.” Eric called when she came out of the bathroom. He had had the decency to put on his jean.
“Don’t call me that, you bastard! I’m not your sunshine. You are my nightmare. Please stay away from me from now on. I regret what we just did. What was I thinking?” Tears rolled down her lovely face.
“I think you were in your right senses for the first time since I went abroad.” he quietly told her.
“You’re sick, you hear me? You’re sick. Maybe all the dope you’ve been taking over there has finally caught up with you.” she threw at him.
He had to laugh at that in spite of himself. “Okay, I’m on dope. What about you? It is either you’re a nymphomaniac or Dave is lousy in bed, considering your performance just now.”
She glared at him in horror but he continued, “Before you run out of here playing your role of the aggrieved adulteress,” he ignored her gasp at his harsh words. “Just tell me one thing. What happened to my baby?”
“You’re really a bastard. You want to pretend you didn’t send me a message informing me to abort the baby if it was yours because you had a bright future ahead of you and didn’t want to be saddled with an unwanted baby and also forget about you when I sent you a text and e-mail telling you about the pregnancy?”
“Me?” he was stunned.
Oleng didn’t bother replying him. She ran out of the room and ran out of the house, leaving the gateman to wonder if she was being chased by the devil. She was glad she had brought her car. She sped the car all the way home. Immediately she got home, she ran to her room, took off her clothes and ran into the bathroom. She scrubbed and scrubbed as if she could scrub away the memory of making passionate love with her ex-boyfriend. She wept as she scrubbed. She had betrayed Dave. She had been unfaithful to her ever faithful husband. How would she face him? How would she pretend as if nothing happened? She kept chastising herself for going up to his room in the first place but she had wanted to make sure he got the message. She hadn’t bargained for what she got in return. She squelched the little voice in her head that kept reminding her that she had enjoyed Eric’s love making and it couldn’t be compared to Dave’s’.
“Stop it!” she screamed to herself and placed her hands over her ears as if she could stop the voice from talking by doing that. “I love Dave. I don’t care if he is lousy in bed. I’ve managed for five years and I’m not about to stop now. I made a mistake with Eric but I don’t love him. I don’t love him.” she continued to tell herself and weep.
“Angel, what’s the problem?” Dave asked his wife. They were in the living room watching television.
“Hmm?” she replied.
“Something’s wrong with you. I’ve asked you countless times but you refuse to tell me the problem.”
“But nothing’s wrong with me.” she countered.
“Angel, I’m your husband and I know something’s wrong with you. For the past two weeks, you haven’t been yourself. Have you looked at the mirror lately, you’re a shadow of your former self. You’ve lost weight, you’re always staring into space and you think I don’t know but at night I hear you cry when you think I’m asleep. And you tell me nothing’s wrong? Come on, I’m not a fool.”
Oleng burst into tears for an answer. Her guilt was eating away inside her.
Dave cuddled her. “Angel, don’t cry. You can tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’ve failed you.” she sobbed. “I’m no longer worthy to be called your wife.”
“Just because we don’t have a child?” he deduced wrongly. “O Angel, I’ve told you so many times to stop worrying. You’ll give yourself a heart attack over this issue. Do you want to die and leave me all alone in this cruel world?”
Oleng simply stared at him as more tears dripped from her eyes. She couldn’t correct him. She couldn’t tell him she had committed adultery with Eric of all people. Dave continued to soothe his wife not knowing that her trauma wasn’t what he thought it was.
To Be Continued…
This brings us the end to Unfulfilled Promises here on this blog. I want to send a big thank you to Audrey Timms for sharing it with us this far. It was very sweet of her.
Of course, the story hasn’t ended but because it is an ebook, I can’t share all of it with you here. To read the concluding chapters, simply reach out to Audrey via email: firstname.lastname@example.org and she’ll tell you how to get the rest of the book.
Please, flood her inbox. You’ve made so much noise about it and how you love her writing; do not hesitate to reach out to her.
Please, support Nigerian writers. We open blogs and share free stories not because we don’t have better things to do with our time but because we are building the audience and the following to help push our work out there. So support us any way you can. Many writers I started this journey with have given up because of lack of support and it’s sad to see so much talent die.
The publishing industry will not touch works unless they appeal to a foreign audience and this leaves a lot of us out of the equation because we will not depict our lives here in Africa in a certain light that we are not comfortable with. Over there, they simply cannot see a world of Africans that drive SUVs or speak more intellectually than they do or live in a society that has a certain level of technological advancement. We must always tell stories of wars, famine, hunger and the likes, of people swinging off trees, of immigrants that find their fulfillment alone in the white man’s land, of discrimination by a backward race on people who have certain sexual orientation. Only a handful read and appreciate the new era of literature we have here.
For some of us, that is okay. We are content with our stories and we write for the people that live here and understand where we are coming from. And that is why you should support us. Just as the laborer labors under the sun or the doctor is on his feet day and night, so do we writers stay hunched over our keyboards, toiling tirelessly. Simple, easy, beautiful literature is hard work. We would give up if we had no one to help our feet forward. Long ago, in the time of Chinua Achebe and his contemporaries, African literature took wings because the West recognized it. This is decades later and we are still towing that line. It should not be so. Last year I was at a colleague’s book reading and was heartbroken to see that less than ten of her massive online followers made it to the event. One would have thought that with that much audience, she would have gotten good sales but the reverse was the case. I was very discouraged. Someone told me “you see why I stopped writing on my blog?”
But I am not let down. I am one of such writers who fights tirelessly behind the scenes to see that writers don’t give up and work hard and smart to get their worth. To any writer reading this, there’s so much you can do with what you have. Don’t put down your pen. Open your heart to possibilities. Do not give up. If God has given you the gift, it’s because He has prepared the hands that would receive it. You just have to realize that this is a new age and you have to market your work in a new way. If there is no way, create one. Surely, steadily, you will get there.
In conclusion guys, just make Audrey happy and contact her.
Side Note:I’ll be bringing two new writers in February. I know you’ll enjoy their work.