Chapter 3: Letting Go of Mrs. Okoye

The woman open mouth, try talk but words no gree come out.

Her lips dey tremble, but she just dey look the bracelet for her hand as if na gold. I see gratitude for her eyes, but shame dey mix inside too.

Maybe she too happy.

Or maybe na relief. For Naija, sometimes peace dey come like small breeze, e dey quick vanish. She nod head, try talk, but her voice choke inside throat.

The guests just dey make noise.

Some dey laugh, some dey snap selfie. One aunty dey tap her neighbor, "You see drama today?" But for me, na silence I dey hear.

Everybody know say the coral bracelet na almost like Mrs. Okoye’s badge.

Na tradition for Olumide family. When him mama marry, na coral beads dem take welcome her. Na that kind thing wey carry weight for elders. E be like chieftaincy cap.

Even Olumide’s assistant shock, face full of surprise.

E mouth open, hand dey hover for air like say e wan grab the bracelet back. E quick use phone dial somebody, maybe Olumide, but e no talk anything for now.

He come warn me again, voice hard, “Madam, if you do this, oga go vex.”

The fear for e voice don rise. You go think say na e life dey for line. E mouth dey shake, but e still try hold senior man posture.

Vex? Which kind vex pass the one wey dey my chest since? How person go dey fear vex for another human like say na God? I just dey look the whole scene like Nollywood story—too perfect to be real.

I just smile small, mind dey far.

My smile no reach bone, but na for me. Mind dey remember all the years of pretending, all the nights of silent tears. Today, my mind don dey fly.

I get engaged to Olumide when I be twenty-two, now five years don pass.

Five years wey just waka commot like water for gutter. All my friends don marry, born, even get promotion. Me, I just dey count calendar, dey hope say Olumide go see my worth.

Inside five years, I don deal with different women—Olumide’s so-called lovers.

From bankers to nurses to law students. E be like say every time I hear new name, my spirit go shrink. I dey try hide my pain with fake smile for family photo.

I no ever quarrel, no ever make wahala.

Even when dem push me reach wall, I go just bone. My mama dey praise me, say I get patience like Job. I dey pray, fast, sow seed, but nothing change.

I think say if I just dey reasonable, dey my lane, Olumide go see my good side one day.

I think say sacrifice dey pay, say love fit grow like garden if you water am well. But Olumide heart be like stone, water no dey enter.

But instead, he just dey hate me more.

Every time I try, e go see am like say I dey disturb am. E go dey use eye size me up, compare me with Nnenna for everything.

The way he dey look me with contempt dey increase every day.

E face dey hard, e voice dey sharp. Sometimes, even housekeeper dey fear talk to me because dem see as Olumide dey treat me.

Today, as Olumide answer WhatsApp video call, he rush comot, no even send the occasion.

E no even look back. Na my birthday, but e act like say na stranger dey call am. I hear e laugh, that kind laughter wey I no see for long.

Na there I know say I suppose let go.

For that moment, e clear me say na me dey force myself for another pesin story. E pain, but truth dey pain pass lie.

For him mind, from beginning to end, na only the person for that video dey.

As e dey talk, e dey forget say people dey around. All e heart dey with that video. I stand, dey look, my chest dey heavy.

After I don hold onto this Mrs. Okoye title for so long, I really tire.

Na true. I dey look myself for mirror, no even recognise who I be again. My eyes red, my spirit dey weak.

I look the assistant, reply, “No worry, Mr. Okoye dey busy. He no even get time vex for me.”

My tone soft, but na final. I give am small smile, make e no fear. The matter don pass vex level.

If anything, na the fact say I hold onto Mrs. Okoye position for so long go dey vex am pass.

That title, e be like yoke for my neck. E turn to shame, e no be pride again. I dey free myself by letting go.

I call housekeeper.

Housekeeper rush come, respect full him face. I just nod, e sabi say time don reach for me to dey alone.

After I tell am make e see the guests out, I go upstairs to the bedroom for third floor.

I waka slow, my mind dey wander. The corridor long, each step heavy. I dey think of all the times I smile for camera, all the hope I gather for this house.

As I pass the studio, I stop.

The air dey musty, the window half open. I fit smell old paint, the memory heavy. Mama go fry akara, the smell go mix with paint for air.

The paint wey pour for ground don dry since, easels don fall, cobweb everywhere.

I bend, touch the ground, my finger pick small dry paint. My eyes sting, but I stand strong.

I no ever tell servant to clean am, Olumide sef no gree.

He talk say make e stay so, as if na warning to me. Na like graveyard for my dreams.

Na ordinary day, just one month after our engagement.

I dey try paint something happy, but my spirit dey heavy.

He come house, smell of palm wine full everywhere.

E voice loud, e footstep heavy. The whole house dey vibrate as e enter.

He drag me—while I still dey mix paint—commot for studio, begin shout for me: “No dey copy her. You no fit ever be her.”

E hold my arm, the pain dey sharp. The words enter my bone, as if e dey curse me. I drop brush, the paint splash for floor. My hand dey shake, my eye dey red, but I no fit talk back.