FEBRUARY 2019
"I messed up, there's no better way of saying exactly what I did other than I messed
up and I don't think I'm going to just wrap it up and make it better but I'm desperate
to fix it," I concluded as I wiped my tears on the sleeve of the white shirt I wore,
caring less if it was going to leave any stain on it.
"And have you considered why you strayed?" Dr. Lydia asked me as she handed me
a tissue. "And how will your fiancé trust that it won't happen again?" She stared at
Chika and I were sitting far apart from each other on the couch, until her eyes were
focused on me. The whore. I was uncomfortable. Dr. Lydia knows how to stare, even
through her fashionable medicated glasses, her eyes could still command authority,
just staring at you. I took some time to wonder if it was her job to look at her clients
in a certain manner, make them uncomfortable, make them quiver, make them
believe that she could see their thoughts so they would not have to lie to her. Well, if
that was her job, then she was damn good at it.
"How would he trust that it won't happen again?" she repeated the question. I heard
her the first time, but I thought, maybe if I ignored her, she would consider changing
The subject.
"Because it won't", I responded defensively.
"But how? It's not enough to just say that it won't. If you want him to trust you again
He would need to know how"
"Thank you", Chika responded as though the question was for him. He had been quiet
all morning, and for some reason, I wished he'd stayed that way. Quiet. Not a damn
word from him. Hearing his voice made me nervous. Above all, guilty. Not that I'm
not. It's bad enough that we could still share the same space, sit on the same couch.
The fact that he did not hate me, or act like he hated me, made me hate myself.
"I will turn to you soon, these questions are for her" The therapist wanted him to
listen to me make a mockery of myself.
"Me? What did I do?" He wanted to know.
"It is one thing for your fiancée to cheat on you, it is another thing for you to act
Like you do not care at all"
Chika raised his eyebrows in disbelief at what he had just heard, almost about to
argue.
"You think I do not care?" He asked.
"Do you?" There she goes, Dr Lydia abruptly sent the question back at him, and this
made Chika confused. Did he? He drew a deep breath and retreated to his initial
state of quietness, allowing me to do all the talking. After all, I was the culprit.
Dr. Lydia looked back at me, "Why did you cheat? If he is the love of your life,
why did you cheat?"
No, I wasn't going to answer that question. What was I going to say? What did she
want me to say? That he treat me badly? Was he no good for me? Chika was
none of the above. As a matter of fact, if there were a word to describe him, it would
be 'perfect.' Maybe a little too perfect.
Chika was one hundred per cent every woman's crush, and men too, honestly. The
description 'tall, dark, and handsome' was not enough to justify how good-looking
He was, is. Chika has thick eyebrows and amazing eyes. They were easy to get lost
in, but they had this way of telling you that he sees you, that he does see you.
His lips are full; most times, they were all I had for breakfast. Those lips of his
complemented his beautiful smile, which looked good on his well-defined face.
Chika was strong. He could lift me with just one hand. Even with my weight, he did
That's making me feel like paper.
I got lost in my head thinking about him until Dr. Lydia's voice drew my attention
back to her.
"Maybe I should guess, you think you've got something good, a little too good for
You and ruining it was the only way to justify, or rather clarify, your emotions for
him," Dr. Lydia suggested.
I got irritated. She was trying to pull words out of my mouth. Did she want me to
say 'yes' or 'I think so' to that crap? I still was not going to say anything, but I
couldn't help it. I squeezed the tissue hard in my palm until a word found a way to
escape my lips.
"No!" The long silence must have made my voice faint. So I cleared my throat and
repeated the word. "No, that's not the case."
"Then what was it?" she probed. This time, I raised my gaze completely to meet hers.
I wanted to understand why she stayed on this one question that I couldn't find
an answer to. If I had said something, all I would have said was to glorify Chika. As
much as I was ready to save my relationship, the last thing I wanted to do was to
make Chika's head swell with praises of how much of a good man he was and how
undeserving of him I was.
After a long pause, Dr. Lydia continued, "Take your time," she said calmly
Bitch, I'm taking forever. I said in my head. I was ready to talk, to fix the mess I had
caused. I loved Chika and wanted to be with him, but Dr. Lydia's stubbornness was
getting in the way of my willingness. She must have noticed that I was as stubborn
as she was, so she decided to change the subject. This time, to something more
annoying.
"Do you want to talk about your parents' relationship?" She asked
Here we go again. I thought in my head. I wish we could just talk about normal
things, you know, things that can pull a broken relationship back to a solid state.
Things like... like, you know, things. Not trying to find a root cause. I was getting
irritated by the second.
I answered out of courtesy. I had been rude all along, ignoring more than half of her
questions, but I wanted to know what exactly 'my parents' relationship' had to do
with recent events. Dr. Lydia, as usual, was not giving up as she continued to pry into
matters she wasn't paid to address.
"How long have they been married?" Dr. Lydia continued
"Twenty-five years and counting", I answered with an attempt to roll my eyes.
"Twenty-five years, that's a pretty long time. Do you feel pressured to have the bliss
they have?" She fired back another question.
"My parents' relationship is not the reason I cheated", I angrily responded. At this
point, I had lost it. I was ready to go into a confrontation with her. I was ready to tell
her to do her job and not beat around the bush. That would have worsened things.
Perhaps, Chika would have had a reason to finally show his anger, and we would
have argued on top of our voices and cried and called each other names. He probably
would have called me slut. Ungrateful. Shameless bitch. Whore. And he would have
been right. I guess that would have fixed things. Once upon a time, I read an article
on how relationships come out stronger after situations like this. That was what I
wanted.
Time up! Our session was over, what a relief. Swiftly, I stood up. I noticed Chika was
still sitting relaxed on the couch, and Dr. Lydia was looking at me with her eyes filled
with expectations, waiting for me to answer her last question. I did not care what
they thought. Our session is over! And I did not need any bonus minutes. I walked
straight to the car, waiting for him to drive us home.
It took Chika another fifteen minutes before he came out. What kept him there that
long? Did he want another session for himself so he could finally flush out how he
really felt, because right now, I am not sure. Did he even still want to be with me?
Or is he just playing along, looking for the perfect opportunity to dump me? Dumping
me wouldn't hurt much if only he did it now. These questions and more. These
thoughts made a mess of my brain. I kept changing my sitting positions every thirty
seconds. I just couldn't help myself.
At last, he came out. He sat still for almost five minutes. He wanted to talk. Well, he
didn't say anything, but I could tell Chika wanted to talk. He probably had a lot to
say, but just couldn't find the right words. I kept quiet and tried to push the thoughts
away. The more I tried, the more my stomach tightened; it felt like I couldn't run
anywhere, even in my thoughts.
The words must have been far from his reach because he still did not say
anything for the long time we sat. There was total silence in the car except for his
constant tapping on the dashboard, and after a while, my melodious accompaniment
with an annoying hum. If he wasn't going to say a word but tap to distort my
thinking, I was going to retaliate by humming, and I planned on increasing the tempo
and volume every minute if he did not start the engine. This worked, for it was after
my first rise in pitch that he turned on the ignition and we drove home in silence.
Two days before this whole drama started, Chika had proposed to me. It wasn't the
most romantic of proposals. Perhaps he had something planned, but I was nosy
enough to spoil it, and I never got to know his initial plan because I never asked.
That day, he had come home with a small gift bag. He was pressed so hurriedly, he
tossed the bag on the bed and dashed into the toilet to poo. Out of curiosity, I ran my
eyes through the items from where I lay on the bed. The small black velvet box was
able to catch my eye with just a bit of it showing. I thought it was a necklace or a
pair of earrings or even a wristwatch. Chika was good at buying me nice things, and
I thought this was one of those days. I reached for the bag to see what kind of
necklace or earrings or wristwatch he had bought for me this time, or maybe he
bought it for himself, which I was ready to pick a fight with him on. When I
eventually brought it out, I could already guess it was a ring. I opened it, and it was
a ring. You know, that kind of ring, an engagement ring. I smiled and waited for him
to come out, and when he finally did, I knelt and asked him to marry me. With
his ring. He was excited and said yes as a lady would. Oh, I missed something earlier,
I proposed to Chika, and he said yes. Not the other way. It was an exciting moment
for us, for me. I was finally going to be with the love of my life.
As expected, traffic was mild. Well, mild for the Island on a Tuesday afternoon.
Chika drove calmly as usual, which was annoying sometimes, but he never attempted to
drive a little faster. When the traffic light turns yellow, he stops, and today
was no different. A little plum girl came to the window offering oranges. "Madam
Buy orange, oh, e sweet." I can't remember the last time I had oranges. Chika hates
oranges, and for some reason, I just stopped getting them "Give me ten, no cut am" certain
Chika was drilling a hole at the back of my head with his eyes. I gave her one
thousand Naira and I told her to keep the change.
Our home was exactly how I envisioned a home, a perfect house. Well, things usually
were with Chika. Perfect. When Chika showed me the house, I screamed. He knew
my love for a big house, and that's because I want my kids to have as much space as
possible to play around in, and a four-bedroom semi-detached apartment was a step
from his old Ikoyi apartment. Overpriced rubbish.
Though unmarried, Chika and I lived together. I used to look forward to going home
Every day, but not anymore.
I ran into him in the kitchen. I wanted some water, maybe with a fruit, but there he
was. Chika was fixing us a meal. He did not see me, well, that was what I thought,
so I decided to turn back and steal out of there before he noticed my presence. I did
not like running into him. Hide. That's what a guilty conscience does. But where?
Suddenly, this big house feels so small. I was already silently going back when I
heard his voice and I froze.
"Don't you want to eat?" Chika asked as he stared at me, trying to sneak out to seek
a perfect hiding spot to hide from him for the rest of the day, the rest of my life if I
could. "You should eat something, you did the unspeakable, doesn't mean you should
starve." He said as he dished a plate for me at the dining table. His tone was angry. The first
time he was close to feeling something.
I thought he cared, but then I understood that all he wanted was an opportunity to
Judge me, but he did not know how, and I was going to make it easy for him.
"Mirabel!" Chika called out again.
"I'm not hungry", I turned around and answered.
"Of course you are not hungry. What the fuck is wrong with you, one would think
That after disappointing me in the most selfish manner ever that you would at least
show some remorse," I was going to tell him that I would eat later, that I needed to
Take a shower first, but he scorned me, not letting me speak.
"Listen to me", he said.
"I'm sorry, Chika, but you haven't been saying much that I should listen to.
This fake introverted act burns me to the ground. You keep acting like
everything is okay. News flash, I had sex with a total stranger in a club bathroom.
You were there, you caught me doing it, red-handed. So, excuse me if I don't respect
you by eating," I stormed out of the kitchen, leaving him to deal with all the emotions.
I'm sure he cried. I just don't know why someone like him would want to still make
this work despite what I did. I truly wanted to console him and tell him I'm changed.
Maybe that would have given him some form of assurance, but I just could not do
that if he did not see what I did as a big problem.
Another day with Dr. Lydia. Days like these, I hate. She's annoying. Chika is
annoying. I'm annoying. The whole situation is annoying, and I hate it. I hate myself.
This was Chika's idea in the first place.
"We should see a therapist, try and work things out" The first word he said to me
after the night of my whoreliness. He hadn't shown an iota of anger, not even a
frown.
Dr. Lydia had walked in holding a bottle of a cold drink. She placed the drink on the
table and sat down, looking indifferent as usual. She smiled as she focused her eyes
on me. I did not look back at her because I did not want her to control how I felt at
the moment. Nervous. Uncomfortable. One look at her and she could turn me into a
mess. Just like she did the last time. I figured out a way to distract myself. Count. I
started by counting the books on the shelf. There were a lot of books on that huge
shelf. It was going to take me a while to finish counting. Enough time to get her off
my case.
"How are things with you two?" Dr. Lydia asked. It was an open question, so I didn't
feel the need to respond.
"Emm, we are doing fine, improving", Chika responded.
That's a lie, a big one. We are doing badly and worse than ever.
"How about you, Miss Mirabel?" She directed the question to me. I assumed Chika
answered for both of us. Why did she have to ask me? Did she not believe him?
That 'we are doing fine, improving' as Chika had said, or she just had to direct a
question to me.
"Good" That's all the response she was going to get from me.
"Can you describe the events of that day?"
I thought we had passed this stage already because I tried not to remember what
happened that day, but the truth is, I remember in detail every moment of that day. I
remember what time we got there, what I was wearing, what he was wearing, what
Benita, Chika's ex-girlfriend, was wearing and the songs Benita sang along to; I
remember how beautiful and elegant she looked. I remember the look on her
face when she heard of my engagement with Chika.
It was Mo's father's birthday. Mo and Chika had been best friends since secondary
school. We were excited about our engagement, so we decided to break it to our
friends that day. No one had known about it until then. They shared in our
excitement. Benita walked in with another of Chika's friends, Jethro. She sure knew
how to make an entrance. She got everyone turning towards her direction with her
body like that of a beauty queen. The talk about the engagement continued as the
boys battled for the spot of the best man. It only meant that he would have to plan
the bachelor's party, and that was something they wanted to do badly.
The party ended early, and we decided to have another episode at the club. Benita
and Jethro kept making small talk in the form of a whisper. I found that disgusting,
especially because I could hear my name. Well, I thought I did. Paranoia is a bad
thing. They would look in my direction, laugh, and point at me. I felt ridiculed. Was
I'm badly dressed? Did I have a stain on my dress? I wanted to be sure it wasn't me. I
looked closely at my dress. I needed more light to be sure. I was going to head to the
bathroom to look in the mirror, to confirm nothing was wrong with me. I raised my
gaze to look around for a bit when my eyes caught this dude staring at me, so I
winked in response.
I headed for the bathroom, and he followed me. I thought maybe I had sent the wrong
message to him, but I didn't care. At that point, I was already not myself. Benita had
gotten into my head. When I entered the ladies, he followed. No one was there at
that time.
He shut the door behind him and walked slowly towards me. He was good-looking
In a different way, like a roughneck. For some reason, I thought he was a serial killer.
He probably had been sent to torture me, kill me, perhaps. I was a little scared. I did
not want to run or move back. I closed my eyes and thought that whatever he wanted
to do to me, he should do it quickly.
He grabbed me by the neck, his hands soft and gentle. What kind of serial killer was
he? Then he kissed me. It was deep. It felt good. I kissed him back, tracing my
hands from his head to his neck and shoulders. I ran my hands through his hair, his
hair was full and soft. It felt like fur. I welcomed his tongue as it came into my
mouth. I gave in to his desires without hesitation. We heard footsteps approaching, and I wanted more privacy, so I pulled him into one of the toilet
stalls. He continued. This time with his tongue all over my body. I felt like candy.
He went on his knees, sticking his head in between my legs. Oh my God. I knew
where he was headed. His tongue on my thigh already gave me a clue. Closer. He
kept coming closer. I was already soaked with indescribable pleasure, and I knew if
I allowed him any further, I would have to scream, but still, I couldn't bear to stop
him; instead, my legs tore apart, wider, and he kept tracing his tongue slowly through
a path I never knew existed. I finally found the courage to make him stop, so I pulled
him up by his neck and kissed him some more. He was stubborn. He still wanted to
go there, this time with his hand. I wanted him there, honestly.
I held his hand to stop him. Then I turned to face the wall. In a rush, he dived in, giving me a deep shock. I held my breath.
Slowly, he rode in and out with both hands on my breast and lips pressed to my neck.
I noticed he had to bend quite a lot because of our height difference, so I helped him
by going on my toes like a ballerina. I made it easy for him. His speed gradually
began to increase. The feeling was like no other.
I wasn't getting a full dose because I couldn't moan as much as I wanted to. I took
deep breaths through my mouth. He kept going. I enjoyed it. He was going to cum.
I was almost there, too. His eyes must have been closed because this was when Chika
opened the door, and he didn't even notice. He didn't stop. I didn't want him to, so I
didn't tell him to. He was cumming already, it would be rude to just shut him off
like that, even though Chika, my fiancée, was right there watching me get fucked. Five.
Four. Three. Two. One. There he was, he groaned hard, and his grip became tight,
holding me like I was his. When he was done, he kissed me by the chick and
walked away, not minding if Chika. To him, he was probably just a wall. Chika didn't
try to stop him or create a scene. He stood there dumbfounded.
I wanted to pitch a tent in the bathroom so I would never have to come out. But he
was there, staring at me. What was I thinking? I thought I heard a chant, "Mimi,
Mimi, Mirabel," from the club and hot tears ran down my cheek. Crocodile tears, he
may have thought.
"That is what happened", I finished. I spared Dr. Lydia some of the details. She was
Good at being judgmental, and I did not want that from her.
"And what's your deal with Benita?" she asked, still looking at me.
"There is no deal other than being Chika's first girlfriend", I answered as I avoided
her gaze.
"Tell me about your relationship," Dr. Lydia asked
Where do I start? Chika and I have been together for about two years now. A lot had
happened already. Maybe I should tell her about the good stuff. Chika and I were
love at first sight. Although we did not start dating instantly, we knew we wanted to
be with each other. This was eight years ago in secondary school. He understood
me, made me feel good about myself, especially when everyone made me feel worse
and insecure. The good old days.
"And how did you feel, Chika?" Dr. Lydia asked as she turned to him. Thank
goodness. At least I could take a break. It was already feeling like these sessions
were solely about me, well, they were. I was the reason we spent those hours with
Dr. Lydia.
Chika had always been happy to be with me. He felt I was smart and funny. He
would say that what I did not have in height, I made up for with my brain. He knew
I was a sensitive person. I could almost always tell how people felt, especially him.
Chika couldn't hide his emotions when it came to me. I could always read him, but
I guess he'd grown wings now because every day I looked at him, I couldn't tell
what he was feeling. Because he didn't let me in anymore. "Do you by any chance
wish you were with someone else?" Dr. Lydia asked
"Hell no, Mirabel is perfect, like look at her, who wouldn't want to be with her?"
"You are just saying that because you know I fucked up", I interrupted "Why
Would you think that?" He asked like he wanted to know.
"I guess it's your tactic to torture me, make me feel guilty" I was sure it was.
"I don't know what you want me to do, Mimi, what? I suggested this therapy session
to work on our relationship. I have been supportive, very supportive, even when it
kills me. I don't know how to deal with this, seeing you with another guy, watching
him..." I listened as he fidgeted. I bet he wanted to say the word 'screw' but couldn't
bring himself to say it. He took a long pause and then followed with a deep sigh. "I
have never been cheated on, never been betrayed. If I weren't in that building, it
would have been different. But I was there, and it hurts to know that you did not
think of me when you threw us out of the window." I could feel his frustration.
Was he crying? I couldn't dare to look at him. I've suspected he was crying. I'd never
really seen him cry before, even the night he caught me shagging in the bathroom,
he had been calm about it, but I knew he was hurt. Angry. No one noticed anything.
We went home, and he didn't say anything to me until the next morning when he
wanted us to visit a therapist.
When I could sense he was crying. I felt sorry for him. That's when I looked
at him and apologised. I am sorry. Indeed, I was. I realised that I hadn't apologized
for what I did to him. This was all his fault. If I had known how badly he felt from
the start, I would have handled things differently, but he was good at bottling his
emotions. I moved closer to console him, but I was shocked when he asked me to
stay away.
"You are not sorry, maybe you think you are, but you are not. I'm tired of trying to get
you to sober up and make this work for us, so I'm going to give you what you want"
What do I want? I wasn't sure anymore. Did I want to be with him? I think I do. Or
maybe a little break would do us some good. But I did want him.
"You don't know what I want", I replied.
"I think I do, it's over!" My heart ached. This was not what I wanted. Maybe I did, but now I was sure it wasn't. I wanted him. Badly. I tried to plead with him, but it
seemed as if he had made his decision already. He wanted me out of the house as
soon as I could.
For the first time, he left me with the therapist. I am usually the first to leave, but
today my legs were numb, I couldn't move, and besides, our session wasn't over. We
hadn't even spent half the time, and he was done. If he wanted to work things out, two
sessions wouldn't have been enough. He just broke up with me. I was weak. I cried.
Then Dr. Lydia asked.
"Why do you blame him?" What did she mean? Did I blame him? I never said I did.
"You blame him for making you cheat, and why is that?" She continued being her usual self. I don't think I blame him, I blame me.