Chapter 7: Letting Go

Akinlolu reach chief’s court before me. As I get down from keke, he dey stand, eyes half-closed, cigarette for hand, thumb press temple. He notice me, look up, put out cigarette.

Air dry, market woman dey pass, but we two dey our world. He step on stub, grind am. I no fit read mind, but I know say pain dey there.

"Let’s go."

Talk short, no story. We waka enter, head high, like two people wey dey go collect award.

Divorce process smooth. As I get certificate, I let out long breath.

Chief sign paper, stamp land—just like that, six years end for one signature. Weight for chest lift small.

"What about your things for house?"

Voice low, eye no meet mine. Old shame dey follow.

"Throw them away."

No argue. Sometimes, you burn bridge to stop yourself from crossing again.

We turn go different ways.

No handshake, no look back. Just two strangers for big city road.

I still get plenty to do. I call cleaning company to clear men things from house, pack rest for storage.

My house scatter with carton. I dey direct cleaner like madam for film. Na only when you dey pack, you go know how much memory dey house.

Halfway, one small girl come from study with 36-inch photo frame.

She try balance am, glass crack. Face squeeze like say she dey carry ancestral load.

"Aunty, what of this one?"

Her eyes dey wait for instruction. I pause, chest tight.

Inside cracked glass, a blown-up red marriage certificate photo. The frame heavy, glass cold for hand. Memories dey bite like mosquito for midnight. Looking at the two of us, heads together, smiling like lottery win, I feel somehow.

That photo na only evidence of our secret happiness. Looking am, e be like say I dey watch another woman life.

This na what we hang above bed instead of wedding photo. Back then, no wedding pictures, no ceremony—just quietly collect certificate behind everybody back.

Na only Lagos person fit understand meaning of such secret. No music, no rice, no aso-ebi.

Reason: his family no gree. If we must stay together, we had to marry in secret.

His people talk say my blood no pure, say I no fit add value. But we stubborn pass them.

I no mind, but Akinlolu vex about am long. First, he say once he make am, he go announce our marriage. Later, he say it no matter, as long as we happy. Later still, he smash frame, say coldly, "I’m glad I listened to my mum."

Sound of breaking glass still dey ring for mind. That day, I know say something truly end.

"Throw the frame away. Shred the photo."

Voice dry, but heart dey knock. Sometimes, only action fit free you.