Chapter 2: Shame, Pride, and Village People

1

"Wetin you talk?" Ifeoma lift her fine eyelids, her voice dry like garri.

Her eye cut me like new razor blade. Even goat no dey fear market like the way I dey fear this woman when she bone. Her mouth set like person wey just chop unripe agbalumo.

The way she just bone, I begin wonder whether na my mind dey play tricks with me about those comments.

I fit swear say na only me dey see those comments. Abi na village people?

I breathe deep, drop the pen halfway, and rush explain.

No time to waste, I gather myself. Na so I start dey talk fast, before my courage go run commot my body.

"I just suddenly no wan divorce again. You know as dem dey talk, 'one day for husband and wife, hundred days of friendship'—three years wey we dey together, I don dey used to you. To be honest, I no fit leave you..."

The old proverb just slip from my mouth. Even though na contract, that time wey NEPA take light and we go dey for darkness together, or when Harmattan dey bite, na she go pass me balm. Small things wey fit make heart soft.

By the time I finish, Ifeoma face don show say she confuse, and my own confidence don drop, my voice sef dey fade.

Her eyebrow dey raise small. E be like say I dey talk jazz. My own mouth sef dey betray me. Na so I dey behave like JJC for love matter. Na so dem talk, stubborn fly dey follow dead body enter grave.

How I take marry Ifeoma na pure accident.

If dem dey give award for people wey dey fall inside wahala with speed, I go carry first. Na pure cruise turn serious matter.

Five years ago, when one poor intern called Halima enter our company for Aba, my life wey dey smooth before just scatter.

Before Halima waka enter, I dey live my life like senior man. I get correct babe, I dey chop life, I dey move with the correct clique.

My childhood love, wey promise to dey for me forever, change mind, break our engagement for public, disgrace just full my body.

Na in front of all my guys for Mr. Biggs she talk am. Mr. Biggs that day smell of fried chicken and shame. My guys just dey look me, nobody fit talk. I just dey look ground, dey wish say earth go open swallow me. E pain me, I no go lie.

Even my papa and mama, wey dey pamper me before, for the first time, dem support Halima instead of me.

E shock me. My own parents! Even my mama wey dey quick cry for anything, she just dey tell me say, "Kunle, Halima get good heart."

As jealousy wan finish me and I dey find how to prove say I no be reject, na so I go marry Ifeoma—the one wey dem dey call cold and wicked succubus CEO, wey everybody dey run from.

Everybody dey fear her like she be mammy water, or maybe one of those night spirits wey old women dey warn about. I just close eye, gree. Na pride push me—shame too.

For the three years wey we marry, na so me and Halima dey drag, but na me dey always lose.

Anytime I try shine, Halima go show, na she people go like. E pain me reach bone, but I no fit show am for face.

If Ifeoma no stop me before time, na bad luck go catch me, I go use my own hand spoil my plan.

She sabi arrange things well. Na she dey save me sometimes, even when I no deserve am.

Until recently, when I try set up Halima, everything burst, all my friends cut me off.

Dem block me everywhere, even for our WhatsApp group. Person go think say I thief money.

I sabi say Ifeoma dey vex for my dirty moves and she even like Halima. So, instead of wait make she disgrace me, I reason say make I leave her first—at least, e go make me look sharp.

Na ego matter. I no wan dey beg later, so I try jump ship before story go reach market.

The time wey I text her about divorce, Ifeoma dey important meeting. But she call me back sharp-sharp.

If na another woman, she for ignore. But Ifeoma serious like exam.

"Why?" her voice cold for phone.

Her voice dry. You fit fry dodo for the heat wey dey her tone.

I just laugh, pain dey my chest. "That last time, you no close bathroom door, I mistakenly see your tail. The thing just dey slippery, e even dey disgusting."

As I talk am, I dey find whether she go laugh or vex, but she just quiet. The air just hang.

So now as I dey talk say I no fit leave her, even Ifeoma no go believe. Me sef no believe am...

Sometimes, na the small lies wey person tell wey dey grow big pass our chest.

"You sure say you no wan divorce?" Instead of the cold laugh wey I dey expect, her deep voice drag me back to reality.

Her tone dey different, e even sound softer, like say breeze just blow. I look her, I no fit decode wetin she dey think.

"I no wan. At least, not now."

My voice weak, but e get truth for am. My body dey betray me, but my mouth don already talk.

I dey watch Ifeoma face, but nothing show say she happy.

Ehen now, na so she dey. Even if joy dey her belle, e no go cross her eyebrow. She be real African woman for that side.

"No wahala." She pause, carry the half-signed divorce paper, and just feed am inside shredder.

The sound of the shredder loud, but na my heartbeat dey louder. She do am with style, like person wey dey destroy evidence for action film. My mouth open, but no word comot. I just dey watch, dey wonder if my life don reset.

Those comments flash again:

[Why this wicked guy dey act wise now?]

[Kunle don dey wise up, wan hold side chick? E be like say e late—her hate don grow deep.]

[Who talk say e late? This time perfect! You no see as her lips wan smile when she dey shred divorce paper? That shredder sef, e too much! She dey fear say he go change mind.]

[Oga, no dull! If you miss this chance, na basement straight!]

I just dey look, dey wait make ground swallow me. But na hope small dey my chest.