It’s Another Novocaine Saturday #23

This post is dedicated to Mariam and Cheyi, two beautiful mothers who just recently had their babies.

Congratulations, mamas!

“Tola, can you concentrate and start pushing?”

Doctor Omotola Adeniyi Onuora is officially the most annoying patient I’ve ever had to deal with. And I can’t show my annoyance because family.

She is about to have her baby and some members of the family are here. Tola invited them and others for the birth of her son. Even some strange faces I have never seen before are present. She says they are her cousins. There’s one wearing a white garment, going about and sprinkling some weird water around the VIP birthing unit. I have had to send everyone out, leaving Nne and Elsie with us. Without them, I would have lost my mind.

“Tola, stop cussing and push this boy out nau.”

“Jidenna, take it easy,” my mom chides me gently. I’m also mad at her. She’s the reason I’m here. It is she who drags me from my house to this place to poke my fingers into my brother’s wife’s vagina, a place I said I’d never go into again even if a gun is put to my head.

Rewind to three hours ago. I’m just returning home from work and I’m accosted by Honey at the door as she asks me who Amata is. The question shocks me but I present a confused face.

“Amata?” I ask.

She folds her arms. Her eyes have gone crazy like that time she went on a punishment spree.

“Who told you about Amata?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

I snort. “Amata doesn’t matter then.”

I move and Honey blocks me. “Who’s playing with you, Onuora?”

“Hian. You want to fight me?”

“You have no idea what you’ve done, have you?”

I drop my gaze on Honey’s breasts, bursting out from the cleavage of her negligee. I find pointed nipples pushing forward. I don’t plan to get distracted but I do.

“Amata is the chick I slept with in Zanzibar. Satisfied?” I lift my eyes to look into hers.

“Is that all?”

“We had a condom malfunction and I sort of came inside her.”

“Sort of?”

“I came inside her.”

“Is that all?”

“And I forgot about it until she showed up from nowhere with a baby that looks like Jiney. I was worried that she could be mine, so I begged her to let us do a DNA test on the baby, which she agreed to and we did a couple of days back. The result comes out tomorrow.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

Honey flashes her phone in my face, showing me pictures of a house that has clothes and boxes strewn outside it. The last picture is of Amata’s baby, sitting on an infant mattress surrounded by the clothes.

“What’s this?”

“I’m not done.”

Honey shows me a series of chat messages she had with Amata which basically corroborates my version of the story but the following lines get me:

-Someone in that hospital that knows me saw me and went to tell my husband that I came for a DNA test with another man

-Now I’m kicked out of my house. My marriage is finished. Jide has finished me

I go weak and slump down on the armrest of one of the couches.

“She called me this afternoon and told me everything. She was crying on the phone, Jide. She said you wouldn’t pick her calls or answer her messages.”

“Fuck.”

“Why did you do this? Why did you sleep with her in the first place? Why have you destroyed her marriage?”

Honey is crying. I would hold and comfort her if my thought faculties are alright. But right now, I don’t even know how to start processing the many different thoughts in my head.

I want to defend my actions. I want to tell Honey I’m sorry. I want to express how much I regret that stupid night in Zanzibar. I want to call Amata and make things right with her. I want to slap myself a thousand times.

“She’s in the guestroom, staying for the night. Tomorrow, I’ll put her in a hotel. Well done, Jideofor.” Honey begins to walk away but stops. “Try not to fuck her while you’re at it.”

I keep my eyes on her until she disappears. I sit in the living room, thinking of a million ways to say I’m sorry. But none of them looks easy. I stand up, eventually, and walk to the guestroom and knock at the door.

“Come in.”

I enter. Amata is seated on a couch resting underneath one of the windows. Her baby is asleep on the bed. Her belongings are arranged before the wardrobe. I see a tray of untouched food on the floor.

“Whatever it is you want to say that cannot undo my husband kicking me out and calling me a whore, please keep it to yourself.”

“Amata, I’m so sorry.”

“I begged you, Jide. I begged you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He said that even if the DNA proves that Angel is his baby, he’s not taking me back. That he would divorce me and still take her.”

Amata starts to weep. The sound is heart-wrenching. I remain by the door and try to soothe her with words.

“I will fix this, Amata. I promise you. I will.”

“You can’t. You have no idea how wicked my husband can be. No idea. He can even stab you if you go near him.”

“Can I have his number?”

“That’s never going to happen.”

“Amata, please. I need to fix this.”

She looks at me for the first time since I walked in. “My marriage is not a broken TV that you unscrew and fix! It’s over for me! You’ve ruined everything!”

“Amata, there’s still a way out. Just give me his number.”

“Goodnight, Jide.”

“Amata, please…”

“Goodnight.”

I step outside.

“I just want to let you know, though…”

I stop.

“Your wife loves you and you owe her a huge one. I told her everything about us, in detail, just to hurt her, to make her feel the pain I was feeling. You know what she said to me? She said, ‘I already forgave him.’ And she added, ‘his problem is now my problem and we’ll get you out of this’. You owe her your life, Jide. Make things right with her.”

I leave the room and go to Honey. I see her popping a mood stabilizer, something she hasn’t done in a long time. I take her hand, drag her to the bed, sit her down, and on my knees I beg her.

She cries dejectedly until my eyes fill with tears. “I’ve already forgiven you, Jide. But why didn’t you just let the past remain where it was? Why dig it up? Why bring back painful memories?”

“I was restless.”

“That child doesn’t look like Jiney! She is not yours, Jideofor! She’s not yours!”

“I only wanted to be sure.”

“Are you happy now? Are you happy that I have details of how you and Amata had sex? How you did the same things to her you used to do to me?”

I bend my head in shame. Obviously, Amata missed out the part where I kept calling her ‘Hon’. But none of that matters right now. What’s important is this woman before me.

I rise up and sit beside her to put my arms around her.

“You know I love you, right?”

“That’s why it’s so hard. I know you love me. If you didn’t, I’d take back my forgiveness and let you suffer alone for your foolishness.”

“I’ve done so many stupid things in this life but none as stupid as that night in Zanzibar. I will spend forever making it up to you.”

“Let’s just find a way to get Amata back to her husband, then we can talk about forever.”

“I’m thinking up a fast plan…”

She interrupts me. “Why didn’t you tell me about the DNA test, though?”

“I didn’t want to upset you.”

“But did you think of what would have happened if it turned out that the baby was yours?”

I have no answer for her.

“And if she wasn’t yours, you would have just quietly continued living your life as my husband abi?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I am highly disappointed, Jideofor. I feel like walking out of this door and leaving you but God will not let me.”

I sigh.

“Let’s just handle this first and I’ll face you.”

“I tried to get Amata’s husband’s number from her but she won’t let me. I’ll call her sister…”

“I have the number.”

Honey pushes her phone towards me.

“How did you get it?”

“Just know that I can do anything I want to and leave no trace. You’re not the only cruel person in this relationship.” She stands. “I’ve had a long day. I’m going to shower.”

Once she’s out of earshot, I type out Amata’s husband’s number on my phone and dial it. The man answers immediately.

“Hello Mr. Onuora.”

Sometimes I just hate Truecaller.

“Good evening, Mr. Bassey.”

“I have been expecting your call.”

Bassey’s voice is menacing. I don’t know if it’s natural or he’s just trying too hard.

“And I know why you’re calling,” he continues. “You’re trying to speak on behalf of that dirty prostitute who calls herself my wife.”

“Amata, you mean?”

“By the way, is the DNA result out yet?”

“No, it’s not out yet. But before it comes out, I would like to fix an appointment with you for tomorrow. Any time you feel would be convenient for you.”

“This is the only convenient time for me, sir. And I have one simple message for you. Actually, a simple solution to all of this.” He laughs and it irks me.

“What’s the solution?”

“I will take Amata back, whether the baby is mine or not, only under one condition.”

“What condition?”

“A night with your beautiful wife.”

I squint in instant anger.

“Just so that we are even.”

“Are you out of your mind?” I retort.

He laughs again. “That’s the condition. I do to you as you did to me.”

“I did not sleep with your wife. Amata was single, as I was, when we met…”

“Keep preaching to the choir, oga.”

I cut him off and fling the phone on the bed. I go for a can of beer in the kitchen where I stay and ponder on other options that can get Amata out of her mess.

I chug down the can of beer and pick another. I walk back to the room just as Honey is stepping into it from the bathroom.

“You called him?” she asks, drying her body with a towel.

“Yeah.”

“What did he say?”

“We’ll have a meeting tomorrow and iron things out.”

There’s no way I can repeat the words he told me to her. I can’t stand to see her cry again.

“Let’s go to bed.”

I stretch my hand to her. She comes to me and I wrap her in the towel until she’s dry.

“I don’t want you to worry about this issue, sugar lips.”

“How can you say that?”

“Just do me a favor and concentrate on your work at the office and on Jiney. This is my mess and I will clean it up. Please, trust me.”

She nods slowly. Her mood stabilizer has kicked in, leaving her drowsy. I try to kiss her but she won’t let me. I tuck her in bed and just as her eyes are shutting, her phone rings.

She groans. “An Onuora is calling.”

Honey is the only one I know who assigns ringtones for different groups of people.

“Please, pass the phone.”

I reach for the distracting device on the nightstand and pass it to her.

“It’s Tola.”

She taps on the answer button. “Tola, it’s 11pm,” she grumbles.

I hear Tola faintly in the background.

“Are you serious?” Honey sits up. “You’re in labor right now?”

I frown, sensing where this conversation is heading.

“Hold on, let me put Jide on.”

I shake my head vehemently at Honey.

“Dede?” Tola’s voice comes on.

“Hey, Tola.”

“I need you.”

I eye Honey.

“You need me? I don’t do dirty talk.”

“Dede, I’m in labor and Doctor Freeman who is handling me has mysteriously disappeared. Please, come and help me get this baby out of my vagina. I feel like dying!” She moans.

“Tola, Hauwa is on the night shift…”

“I don’t want Hauwa!” she screams.

“Okay, easy there. Just breathe and try not to think evil thoughts. Everything is going to be fine. There are three other professional midwives in that hospital…”

“Jide, please…”

“No, Tola. The reason I refused to handle your antenatal is the same reason I will not assist your birth. You’re on your own.”

She starts to cry and the next thing I hear is Nne’s voice.

“It’s as if something is wrong with your head, Jidechi,” she says in Igbo.

Fuck.

“Get up from that bed and rush down here before I lose my temper.”

“Yes, ma.”

I hang up and give Honey an apologetic smile.

“Naa, Tola’s family. Please, go. And tell her I’m too tired. I’ll see her in the morning. Take pictures too.”

I’m permitted to sneak in a little kiss before I leave. I head straight to the hospital in a bad mood that worsens when I meet a frustrating Tola who refuses to cooperate with the midwife who is handling her.

“Putting an IV line was hell, she screams every time I try to do a pelvic sweep, she uses swear words, she has threatened to fire me three times now, after sending away every nurse that comes to check on her. She even vomited on me!”

The woman is close to tears.

“Just get someone to assist me,” I say to her. “I’m taking over. You can go home.”

“Thank you, sir.” She curtsies, handing me Tola’s chart.

The moment I make my entrance into the VIP birthing unit of the hospital, I tell myself I am ready for whatever. But an hour later, with a cussing pregzilla who keeps screaming at me, I feel myself losing my mind.

“Omotola, push my baby out nau,” Nne begs.

“Nne, it’s too painful! Jesus!”

I breathe out in frustration before deciding to deactivate my brother-in-law mode and take her on as I would any other patient.

“Look at me, Tola.”

“Mex is not here!” she cries.

“He traveled. You know that. Now, stop crying and look at me. It’s Jide talking to you.”

She sniffles, simmering down.

“I know it hurts and I know you’re aware of how big this baby is…”

“I shouldn’t have eaten so much. Doctor Freeman warned me.”

“It’s fine. It’s fine. I just want you to also know that you can do this. Okay?”

“Argh!” She pushes without me prompting. It’s not like she can help it. The baby is bearing down already.

“Fuck! It hurts! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t…”

“You can.”

I give her a break and urge her to push again. She screams out and the baby’s head comes out.

“Thank you, Jesus,” Nne sighs.

“Now, one last push.”

“Okay, okay.” She holds Elsie tightly on one hand and the assisting midwife on the other and gives it a try.

I feel my tummy toss. Things don’t look good for the baby; his shoulders are stuck and there’s no amount of regular pushing that will get him out. I note the time as I place my hand beneath his head and call the midwife over. She gives it a look and diagnoses Shoulder Dystocia, verifying my analysis.

“What’s the matter?” Tola probes. I whisper into the nurse’s ear to get in an emergency team.

“Dede?” Tola calls as the nurse hurries away.

“Mom, Elsie, please wait outside.”

“Is everything okay?” Nne asks.

“Why won’t my baby come out, Jide?”

I gesture to my mom and Elsie to leave. They promptly obey as Hauwa bursts in.

“Dystocia?” she asks as she comes forward.

“Yeah.”

“Dystocia?! Oh God! Oh God!” Tola wails.

“McRoberts or Gaskin?” Hauwa hurriedly wears gloves.

“We’ll do Gaskin.”

“McRoberts, please!” Tola begs.

Like the typical doctor she is, she chooses a more scientifically tested method to get stuck babies out. But Hauwa and I were educated by an American midwife who trained directly under Ina May Gaskin, a renowned midwife in the United States whose work gives pregnancy, childbirth and breastfeeding a soulful, spiritual point of view, different from the norm which is rather clinical. But she is most notable for using the Gaskin method to handle Shoulder Dystocia by having the mother go on all fours so that the shape of the pelvis changes and the stuck baby becomes easier to birth.

In my experience, though, sometimes all the mother needs is a little movement from either of her legs and the baby becomes unstuck. This is why I use the Gaskin method as it gets the mother off her ass and in a different position to speeds things up. Time is always of the essence. If the baby stays longer than five minutes, there is risk of brain damage; and this is why I have called for an emergency team. Cases like this can go from okay to fatal in seconds.

Tola is on all fours by now, helped by Hauwa.

“God! It hurts!” She lets out a scream. “Don’t let anything happen to my baby, Jide!”

“Nothing will happen to him, Tola. It’s going to be over soon,” I assure her. “Think of Majekodunmi. You’re doing this for him. Both of you saved my life and I’m not leaving this room until you’re both okay.”

As I speak to her, I deliver the baby’s posterior shoulder without much stress.

“That stupid Doctor Freeman just abandoned me! Argh! God will judge him!”

I smile. Doctor Freeman is her late father’s partner and joint owner of the hospital. He is one of the best OBGYNs we have in Nigeria, but also a regular asshole. He has never liked Tola and I’m not surprised that he handled her antenatal and left her when she needed him the most. He is known to be that imbecilic.

“Okay Mrs. Onuora,” I say, “here comes your baby.”

The position Tola’s in has encouraged a downward traction, helping me pull out the rest of the baby. He is birthed into the world, looking like a fatter version of Fumnanya.

The medical team I had called for bursts in just in time. An obstetrician takes over from me while a pediatrician handles the baby. Tola remains panicky as the baby’s general status is uncertain. He is alive but he has to be checked for any form of injuries and brain damage. As they rush him out to the neonatal unit next door, I liaise with the doctor and Hauwa to ensure Tola is well-attended to.

In the duration of an hour, after she has showered and changed into comfy clothes, ready to receive guests, her newborn is brought to her – a perfect bundle of joy with no health complications.

Tola cradles him. “Akintunde,” she coos, kissing his fingers. “You’re so beautiful. They didn’t want you to come to this world but God is awesome.”

I take pictures of them for my blog and Instagram. My mood has been lifted and I find myself falling for Akintunde. The medical team and I watch Tola pray and speak prophetic words to him. It’s a bit of an emotional scene. Emeka wouldn’t have missed this for the world. He is expected back tomorrow. I know he’ll be kicking himself wherever he is.

“Dede, thank you.”

I nod.

“God will remove every complication in your life as you have done for me today. Nothing will take your joy away. God will bless you and Honey and Jiney and all the other babies you’ll have. Honey will not pass through the pain I went through.”

There’s a loud chorus of ‘amen’ from my colleagues. I give Tola a kiss on the forehead and also leave one for Akintunde. As I turn away, I hear her apologizing to those she had been nasty to earlier. When I step out, I throw open the doors for my family and hers to throng in.

I feel exhausted, so I sit on a waiting bench outside the unit to resume pondering on how to handle the Amata situation. Just as I sit, Emeka comes dashing in like he’s been running the Lagos marathon.

“Guy, how far? Progress?” he inquires.

I smile. “Time of birth 12:18am. Weight 4.3kg. Mother and child are doing fine.”

He breathes out. I give him some seconds to relax and collect himself.

“I was in PH when she called and said she was in labor. Right in the middle of a meeting. Omo, I gas leave there go airport. They said no flight. I had to take a bus, man. Where’s everyone?”

I point to the birthing suite.

“You were in charge?”

I nod.

“Thanks, man.”

“No wahala.”

He dashes in. I remain on the bench until one after the other, everyone leaves. Tola and Akintunde are now asleep and Emeka joins me outside. We go from discussing the birth of Akintunde to family responsibilities and how far we have come from being the teenage boys that loved to steal our mom’s car to sneak out to parties at night. We also reminisce on our bachelor days and how reckless we used to be.

“I was just thinking the other day how easily I could have gotten something worse than claudia. I could caught HIV,” Emeka recalls, rubbing his beard.

“Or ended up being shot by somebody’s husband.”

He shakes his head in a laugh. “Kai!”

“Mans don grow up sha. We did enough damage.”

“Yes o. Na to dey watch our children now.”

“The way I will close-mark Fumnanya ehn!”

“Forget it. She go still spoil if she wan spoil.”

I eye him, and in doing so, I spot Kalu coming towards us. In his manner of having a concentrated look on his face as if always ready for a serious talk, he looks up and smiles without showing teeth.

“Is our baby here yet?” he asks.

“Yes o,” Emeka answers.

“Congratulations.”

We shake hands and he goes in to see Elsie who is watching Tola. And as if prompted, Oba also shows up too.

“Don’t you people sleep in this family?” I ask, checking the time. “It’s past three.”

“Nne woke me up.” Oba hisses. “How are Aunty Tola and the baby sha?”

“Good.”

“Congrats.”

“Thanks,” Emeka answers.

“Can I go in and see them?”

“They’re sleeping.”

He dumps his weight in the space between us and keeps an ear to our conversation as we continue talking about our lives.

“I have a confession to make,” he cuts us off at some point, “but let me stand up first before Jide kills me.” He jumps off the bench and faces us. Just as he’s about to speak, Kalu steps out. He nods a greeting in his direction. Kalu nods back.

“Your confession?” I stare at him. He stares at Kalu.

“Am I supposed to go away?” Kalu questions.

“Yeah. This is not a spiritual confession.”

“Okay.” Kalu leaves his spot and takes Oba’s space on the bench. “Ngwanu.”

Oba rubs his hands together a couple of times, winches up his jeans, moves his weight from one foot to the other, clears his throat three times, straightens out his shirt…

“Can you just get on with the fucking confession?” Emeka demands.

“Didi and I had sex.”

“What!” Kalu exclaims. There’s brief silence and then Emeka bursts out laughing; and it’s not a funny laugh. It’s an ‘I can’t believe you’re my brother’ laugh. On my end, I show no reaction. I’m not surprised at the news.

“When did this happen?” Kalu asks.

“Yesterday.”

“You disvirgined her?”

“No. No, I did not. Her ex did. I just sort of, tried to pick up from where the guy left off.”

“You’re a disgrace,” Kalu says.

“See why I didn’t want you here?”

“I’m disappointed,” I add.

“Even you?”

“You dey mad.”

“She wanted it. I didn’t force her.”

“So how did it go?” Emeka asks. Kalu and I shoot him sharp looks.

“Just asking.”

“Terrible,” Oba answers. “That’s why I’m giving you the gist.”

“Don’t you have any morals at all, young man?” Kalu scolds him. “Ndidiamaka is your sister.”

“She is not. And I’ve been mad stupid for her from the first day she came into my life.”

“No, you’re just stupid. If you felt anything for her, you wouldn’t have defiled her.”

“Defiled?” Oba makes a face. “What’s this guy talking about? De, what era are you coming from sef?”

“If you ask me that question again, you’ll get a dirty slap.”

“So, how did it go?” Emeka throws out his question again. “On the scale of one to ten…?”

“Two minutes.”

“Two?” Emeka lifts up two fingers in the air and gawps at them as if they’re strangers on his hand. “You lasted two minutes?”

“Or less sef. I don’t even know if it was up to. I go in there and next thing, I’m nutting as fast as 911 answers to a call in a white neighborhood.”

I don’t want to laugh. I really don’t want to but this shameless boy will not kill me. Emeka is already in stitches and Kalu has this look of amusement on his face. I don’t know when I let go. Oba, clearly, doesn’t think it’s hilarious. He continues.

“So, I’m like okay, it’s probably ‘cause it was the first round. I take a break, she goes for a shower. She comes back and we try it a second time and…”

“The same thing happens,” Mex concludes. We fall apart in laughter again.

“Do you have premature ejaculation problem?” Kalu probes.

“No, I don’t have PE. I’ve never experienced it before.”

“How is she taking it?” Mex asks.

“She’s acting like everything’s cool but my rep is blown. I don’t know what happened. I am not a one-minute guy. All the girls I’ve been with can testify.”

“Hallelujah!” Emeka howls. Kalu shakes his head.

“I really don’t know how I screwed things up.”

“You want me to weigh in on this?” Kalu swings back to his serious face.

Oba shrugs.

“First of all, you’re not supposed to be doing any of that nonsense until you get married.”

“Are you for real?”

“Second, not to Ndidiamaka. That’s too close for comfort.”

“I’m crazy about the chick. Why doesn’t anyone want to understand?”

“Because we’re all protective of her,” I respond. “We know that once you hit it, you’ll dump her.”

“Why are you talking like this nau, De Jide? I really like her.”

Kalu cuts in. “And that’s my third point. It’s probably because of what you feel for her that you messed up. I’m guessing the other girls you’ve been with were not romantically involved with you?”

“No. Apart from my secondary school babe, Didi is like the first real thing I’m feeling.”

“And you felt you needed to impress her?”

“Yes. And can you guys stop judging me and help me out here?”

“Give your life to Jesus, face your career, get married and have legal sex.” Kalu stands. “See you boys later.”

As he walks off, Oba reclaims his space on the bench.

“I’m not going to give you tips just so you can mess with Didi’s life,” I make it clear.

“I’m not trying to hit and run, Jide.”

I see that he’s getting frustrated.

“Just get sex off your mind for now. You were too quick to impress. Keep sex on the burner and bond on a platonic level.”

“But we’ll eventually do it.”

“Yes you will. When the time comes, I’m sure it won’t repeat itself but just to be sure it doesn’t, use a condom. Did you use a condom?”

He shakes his head. Emeka smacks it. “Are you a fool? You wan give the girl belle ni?”

“We didn’t have condoms with us.”

“Then don’t knack!”

“Got that. Jide, you were saying?”

“Use the start and stop method. Think of other things while doing it. Just generally have fun. If you get your mind off sex when you’re with her and just simply enjoy her company, the sex will be great eventually.”

“Now, it’s how to face her again. I dey shame.”

“She’s probably not taking it as seriously as you are,” Emeka tells him. “Just do as you were doing before. Don’t talk about it unless she wants to. And if she does, then you shouldn’t act like it’s a big deal. Tell her it’s never happened before and the only reason it did was because she was special.”

Oba nods.

“Obasi,” I call, “you and Ndidi are adults. I respect that. You can do whatever. I’ve lifted your hands off your matter but I beg of you, for the longest time, please keep whatever is going between you two away from Nne. If she catches headache because of it, you’ll have me to face.”

He nods. I stand up. “I don tire. I dey go house.”

I shake hands with them and leave the hospital. Honey is still asleep when I get home. I slip in beside her, careful not to wake her up, but in habit, she turns around and snuggles into me. I stay awake, thinking of how I’m going to spend my entire life, protecting her from hurt. I say an amen to Tola’s prayer and shut my eyes.

∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞  ∞∞∞∞

I get a Whatsapp message from Oba as early as 6am, informing me that Aunty Tola has had her baby. Akintunde, he calls him. I also get a picture that leaves me ‘awwwing’.

“He’s so cute,” I show the picture to the guy I spent the night with. He’s lying face down on a couch, shirtless in taut muscles.

“Mmm,” he mumbles and turns his head away. I tap him.

“Oya get up. Time to go.”

“Haba nau.”

“It’s morning.”

He lifts his head. “It’s still dark.”

“It’s going to be dark until seven o’clock, uncle. Come and be going abeg.”

“You’re cold o. We had a fabulous night but you kick me out the morning after without flinching.”

I pick his shirt and fling it at him. He dumps the shirt back on the floor. I don’t have energy for any drama. I leave him in the living room and respond to the call of nature in my bathroom. When I come back some thirty minutes later, he is awake and set to go. At the same time, someone is knocking on the door.

I’m thinking that maybe it’s Ehi or one of the other housemates who didn’t spend the night in the house. But when I open the door, I see Oba standing outside, holding a single rose, his face and nose hidden behind it.

“Is it too early for Valentine’s?”

I think he looks cute. The white t-shirt he has on, like every other white thing he wears, gives him this boyish appearance. And it seems I’m totally into boys these days.

I take the rose from him. He moves forward, making to lean over and kiss me, but my companion for the night comes into view. Bare-chested, he pulls me into a squeezing hug, sighs a little and thanks me for last night.

With his shirt slung over his shoulder, he walks away, leaving Oba stunned.

“Who was that?” he demands.

I don’t give an answer immediately, but  the guy that just left is Kadiri or Kadi as we call him in the office. He works in the décor department and we have been occupied with putting together décor details for Lexus Ditorusin’s wedding. Last night, I took him out for a drink because it was his birthday and having recently been dumped by his girlfriend, he had no one to celebrate with. He had too much to drink, so I brought him over to mine. The cab driver had to literally carry him and dump him on the couch while I enjoyed my bed alone.

I should tell Oba all of this but I get some perverse pleasure seeing him jealous.

“That’s Kadi. We work together.”

“He slept here?”

“Yeah.”

“He spent the night with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Just like that?”

“Why are you asking me all these questions, Nasty?”

“So because yesterday was awful, you hopped on the next guy?”

I laugh. Oba has a way of getting angry too fast and diving headlong into conclusions. But that’s just one of his few flaws. He has a sweet side, a side I’ve slowly grown to like over the past weeks. It is what partly pushed me to decide to give him the goods yesterday. That, and the fact that Nne has been on our case lately. Actually, that was the main reason.

Have you ever done something you’d rather not out of spite? Like, let’s say, you have sex just because you have been accused of doing it already, so, you go ‘whatever’ and just do the darn thing?

Story of how my dysfunctional sex life with Oba begins.

It starts when we both get mad at Nne for accusing us of having sex in the family house because I spent the night there. I don’t shout back at her as Oba does. I simply apologize and leave the house. Minutes later, Oba pulls up beside me on the road. We drive to the Ditorusins where we convert all that anger into passion and have sex on one of the couches in the living room of the guesthouse.

Sex that doesn’t last more than two minutes before Oba cums.

“Shit,” he mutters. Being a novice in sexual matters, I don’t know what has just happened.

“What’s wrong? Why did you stop?”

He is quiet. I begin to feel him slip out of me and then it hits me. “Did you just cum?”

Embarrassed, he moves away.

“Nasty?”

“I came.” He forces on a smile. “Not how I planned it. I guess I’ve been sex-starved for too long. And you’re tight as fuck too.”

I blush. “It’s not a big deal,” I tell him, although I had expected more than this. In fact, with the way he had gone on about his piping skills, I was hoping to experience my first ever orgasm from a man. I am disappointed.

He walks to the kitchen and returns with a bottle of water as I go to use the bathroom. I can tell that he’s still embarrassed. I am more concerned over the fact that we didn’t use a condom. I am sure of my health status. I don’t know about his.

I have a shower and step out to find him on my bed, occupied with his phone. This is the first time he is quiet in my presence.

“Nasty?”

“Hmm?” He looks at me shyly. Another first.

“What happened was not that serious na. Get your mind off it.”

“I have. That first time was just me warming up, and being that it’s been quite a while, I got really excited. Right now, I’m pumped for Round Two.”

I relax. Beyond what just happened, there’s something special about the way he kisses and touches me. Over the past few weeks we have developed a bond that has been watered by long walks, deep conversations and intense make-out sessions. Like I explained, I have discovered a soft and sensitive side of him that hardly shows. I have also come to accept the asshole in him, as there is no Oba without the nastiness. I can’t say we are exclusive and I’m not really looking to have him as a boyfriend, but he’s someone I want to be intimate with. He’s the only guy I trust.

“Come here,” he calls me over. I walk to him and he drops my towel, exposing my nudity, stretchmarks, flabs, cellulite and all. He adores me as if I’m the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. He pulls me to the bed where he lays over me and engages me in passionate foreplay. When he finally parts my legs open and enters me, it is because I beg for it and I feel like I am about to erupt. His strokes are deep and hard and it doesn’t take long for me to begin to shake. I feel an orgasm coming. My excitement can’t be contained. This would be the first of orgasms I would have via penetration. I feel blessed. I know that few women hardly ever get this.

And hence, I squeeze shut my eyes and wait for it to come. But without warning, Oba pulls out of me and clamps his hand on his dick.

I lift myself and rest my weight on my elbows. Again, I have no idea what is happening until he cusses and dashes into the bathroom. I slump back in frustration.

He returns to me shortly. “Didi, I’m so sorry. What just happened has never ever happened to me before. I’m shocked. I am not a one-minute guy. I swear. Even my first time was not this bad. I don’t know what went wrong. My ex must have sworn for me.”

I feel sorry for him. I am double-disappointed but I tell myself it’s fine.

“You believe me, right?”

“I do.”

“I have mad piping skills, I swear.”

“Can you stop swearing?”

“It’s on your face. You think I suck.”

I don’t refute his words.

“You’re silent. That’s even worse.”

“Oba, it’s okay. I guess we were both overly excited. We should just cool off sex for a while and hang out.”

“I’m tired of hanging out. I want to smash.”

I get off the bed. “Well, that’s not working out well right now.”

“Okay. So, can I give you head?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No, Obasi.”

I pick a dress from my wardrobe. “Let’s just not think about sex for now. And I think that maybe you should go to work. Don’t be lazy like me.”

I see hurt in his eyes. He walks to the bed and picks his clothes. There’s awkward silence as he dresses up and I watch him. After he’s through, he tells me he’s leaving. I go over to him. He holds me tightly.

“Don’t dump me. Please.”

I pull back. “I’m not your girlfriend, Oba.”

“Oh?”

I look away.

“Aiit. See you later.”

I feel terrible for my words but the truth is we haven’t officially spelled out what it is we have. I don’t want to commit myself to someone on the basis of sex alone. Sex that is not even good.

I walk him to the door and he leaves. We don’t even hug.

And here we are again – him being upset over a baseless insinuation and me laughing inside my head because I enjoy seeing him jealous.

He is glaring at me hard as we stand facing each other at the door. And I’m just there, thirst-trapping him with my body.

“So, Kadi fucked you well, right?”

“Can you just stop talking, Obasi?”

“Look at how you’re dressed. There’s no difference between you and all those skanky, horny-as-fuck Lagos girls that jump from dick to dick.”

“Stop talking.”

“Fuck you.”

He turns around and marches off. I watch him leave. It would be good to call him back and correct his thinking with a slap and a kiss but the boy is too infantile and I’m going to sit this one out until he calms down and retraces his steps back to me.

I’m going to enjoying playing with him. I just hope he doesn’t go and do something stupid to prove a point.

^©Sally @moskedapages

 

Images: Indiana Public Media, paulateles, Dissolve, BabyGaga.com