You were like, “How I wish this was true! "
I smiled. Not because I was lying to you. But because we both knew that wasn't true. After seeing your pants for some time I thought it wise to see your papa. I was like, “When is he seeing the man of your dreams?”
You were like, “And who says you are the man of my dreams?” But that was just a bad joke. Because you smiled, I knew. Then you were like, “I will take you. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Why will you warn me about your father? I was like, “Is your father going to castrate me or something?”
“He is just a man of high standards.” That was what you meant.
"And who says I am a man of low standard? “I said. " No matter how high a man’s standard is; he goes on his knees with a woman in his bed."
You laughed. You were like, " That's true. But if my mother cannot persuade him, who are you?”
I was like, “Don’t worry. What mama could not do, I will do.”
But when it was time to see him, I was sweating despite your air condition. I almost dropped my phone.
"Just be yourself." You said.
But how could I? Your father rejected a man with a
masters and many houses? If he did that to someone like him, what do you think
he is going to do to me?
Minutes after, he walked in. As soon as you saw him, you hugged me. Then looking at him, you were like, "Today I have brought him, papa. I have brought the source of my happiness. You’ve always said you wanted me to be happy. Now that he is here please Papa, accept him oh. please.”
Your father felt really bad. He was like, “. Do you think I kicked those men you brought here for me?"
You were silent.
Your father then looked at me, "Gentleman, what is your name?"
I told him.
But he was like, " John what? John the Baptist?"
"John smith." I said.
"So John, what do you do for a living?"
“I am a programmer.” I said to him.
He was like, "That's impressive. If you have the patience to write, then I’m sure you will have patience on your wife.”
We laughed.
When I told him I could program anything, he brought me one to test me. " I have been working on this for some time.” He said. “Think you can fix it?"
I was like, "Sure." But after I tried and tried, nothing was working. Instead of helping me, you laughed at me.
You were like, " See? That is why I told you to be yourself. How are you going to fix it now?"
" Don't worry.” I said. “If it's about you, there is always a plan. " I called a friend of mine. He explained a thing or two on the phone. And boom. It worked like magic. Your father couldn't hide his excitement after.
He was like, " Damn you are good. Where did my daughter pick you? You are good. How did you do it?"
I was like, " Sometimes love is all you need." Then he suddenly began to cry. "What is wrong?” I said.
"Nothing.” He said. "It's my wife. She is dead. What you said reminded me of her. "
I was like, “I’m so sorry."
But he won't stop. He cried and cried until you were like, "papa why? If Mama is gone, at least I am here. Why are you crying like I'm dead?"
He wiped his tears. Then touching me on the shoulder, he was like, "As you can see, I love my daughter so much. She is everything. When her mother was alive, she was my everything. Don't break her heart for me. Please."
You should have told me about Shawn. But you didn't. So when he told me things about you I believed him. He said your name was Maame Esther but you later changed it to Adjoa. He said you were twenty-eight but you said you were twenty-five. When I asked him why you lied to me, he said it's probably because a lot of men have been inside. I was like, "Inside as in?" Then he explained what he meant. I was surprised. You’ve dated a lot of men. Another friend of mine said something similar about you. The only difference I found in the two stories was that in Shawn’s you cheated on all of them.
When I asked you about this, you were like, "I know Shawn but what he said about me are lies."
I was like, "Why didn't you tell me you knew him until now?"
You were like, "But you never asked."
"What about your name?" I said.
Your answer? The same. “You never asked."
Trusting you was still not an issue since I loved you. But after I visited Shawn and saw two of you alone in his room arguing, it became a major issue. Shawn said he slept with you but you said he didn't. So who was lying to me? You? Or him?
I was like, " Tell me the truth."
"I could never cheat on you." You said. But no one told me this. I saw you myself. “I was there.” Finally, you said. “But he didn’t touch me.”
I was like, “What were you doing there alone then?”
"I was there for an explanation.” You said. “He left me. I needed to know why he was trying to destroy the relationship between you and me."
These things happen. But I also needed to hear Shawn’s side
of the story. So the Tuesday after that, I decided to see him. But he was
already gone. When I got into his compound, he was gone. All I saw were people. People crying over
something. I moved closer to see what.
And there laid Shawn’s lifeless body.
There was a knife by his side. And next to it was a note. It read: Keep
your lies to yourself. Sounded like you. I mean any one in my shoes would have
suspected you. But when I asked, you lost your cool.
You were like, “How can you not know me?”
But who doesn't change? I mean we did after dating for some years. Didn’t we? That is why I suggested we go for counseling. I was afraid of divorce. But from the arguments you were making, it was as if that was what you were seeking.
When the counsellor also realized too, he was like, " Why do you want to divorce? Do you want to throw fifteen years of your life away?”
You were like, “I never thought of it that way.”
Neither did I. But that was how long we had been married. Fifteen years.
“No one will stay in marriage that long if it had nothing to offer.” The pastor said to you. “There had to be a reason.”
You were like, " There was. But he is gone. It was the man I married. As far as I’m concerned, he is gone. This man sitting next to me is someone else."
But what had changed about me? I was tall and still tall. Hairy and still hairy. Handsome and still handsome. Everything about me before marriage and after marriage was the same. So what did you mean?
"You've changed." You said. "When was the last time you helped me with the chores? Do you help me with the kids these days? I do everything myself. And when I'm done, you expect me to open my thighs. Why should I when you are someone else? What kind of woman do you think I am?"
I was like, " Maybe Shawn could answer. " Then bom, I felt a slap on my face.
“Don’t ever say that to me?” You said.
The pastor smiled. I thought he was mocking me.
"Relax.” He said to me. " It’s not so bad. You should see the couples who come here. Some come here with nothing. No love. No job. No money. No kids. But still want to stay married. This is good.” Then he looked at you. He was like, “Your partner doesn't need to always understand you. All he needs is to be there for you. But if he doesn't get you, how is he going to do that?" You were like, " Pastor, that is a grown man sitting right there. He knows what to do. How can he say he love me? Then watch me drive, pick up his kids, cook for him, do other things for him and in return I don’t even get a ‘thank you’. How can you say you love me when you have never given me a gift? When was the last time he said it? Ask him. I am tired of living in deception. I can’t do this anymore. It’s best I divorce. "
The counselor was like, " No please. No divorce. You married in love. If you feel like it is lost, I can help you. But if you still want to divorce, I can't stop you." Then he looked at me. He was like, " She loves you. But do you love her?"
I was like, "Yeah."
He was like, "Which part of her?"
I was like, "That is not fair."
"What is love then?" He said.
I was like, " Love is love. I don't know. God?"
He was like, " I didn't say who is love. I said what is love."
Now I understood his question. But what it was I still didn't know.
Love. Love. What is it? The first thing that came to mind was Titanic. And Jack dying instead of Rose. Then next was rap lyrics. And the poet, Solomon of course. And ideas appeared and disappeared before me. Appeared and disappeared until I was left with one. A memory verse I assumed love could be. I was like, "Love is patient. Love is kind. Love doesn't envy and has no pride. It is selfless and forgives all sins. But most importantly it delights in the truth."
The pastor got mad. He was like, “I can't believe this. You took so long and still got it wrong?”
I was like, “Wrong. How can this be?”
“You only described people in love.” He said. “You didn't tell me what it was."
I was like, " So what is love?”
The pastor didn’t answer. He was like, " Look into your wife’s eyes and tell me."
I looked into your eyes and was like, “Can you believe him? He thinks sex and love are one.”
“As if you don’t.” You said.
I was like, “Hell no. “
Then you were like, “Then answer. What is love?”
“You are the one supposed to tell me” I said to you. We argued and argued until I was tired. I was like, “What do you want from me?”
The entire room was quiet. No one felt like speaking. But then the pastor forced you to. He was like, “Go on. Tell him. Tell him what you want from him.”
“I want nothing from you.” You said. “All I need is your love.”
"Can you be a little more specific?" The pastor suggested. “
I was like, "Yeah. Because I think I love you."
You were like, “No, you don't love me. Love me. Like treasure me. Do nice things for me."
"Things like what?" I said.
You looked at the pastor like, " Won't it take the magic away if I told him?"
“He can’t read your mind." He said to you. " You need to tell him.”
So you told me. You were like, " Love me. Like say you do even if you don’t. Yes. Love me. Like when I'm cooking, support me. Don't just sit in the hall and watch television the whole year. Support me. And if you can appreciate me. That is love to me. Despite your twisted ideas of love, I stayed with you. Just love me. Because I still love you.
"I love you. too" I said. The pastor was like, "Both of you, tell me. Now what is it?"
" Probably a word we use when our feelings are mutual." You said, laughing. I still had no idea what it was.
The pastor was like, " I liked your answer. But when it comes to women, why must everything be about feelings?".
" Yeah, feelings. "I supported him. "That is love to them. Feelings. And they are conditional too. Are they not? That is probably why if women are not in the mood, you can’t be either.”
We laughed. Not with you. At you.
You got mad. You were like, “Stop laughing. That’s not fair. What about men? They love conditionally too. After birth, what do they do? They look for someone better looking than you. Can your body be the same after birth? So how is this unconditional?"
I was like, " Well, that wouldn't be the case if the love that led to the pregnancy also wasn't conditional in the first place.” The pastor couldn’t help but laugh.
“A man gets love after paying bills and buying stuff.” I reminded you. “But what happens when he loses his job? If our love is conditional, what about yours?”
“I can’t believe this.” You said. “When you had no money, I was proud of you. With or without money, I loved you. So why are you saying this?”.
“It’s true. "I said. "Your love is conditional.”
“What about yours?” you said.
We argued and argued until the pastor was like, “Stop. Love is conditional. And we need to fix it. So whose condition comes first?".
"Mine." We both said at the same time.
" Okay, you first." The pastor said to you. “What do you expect from him?”.
You were like, " Nothing. I don't even want him anymore."
"If God didn't want us anymore because of our sins, where do you think we will be?" The pastor said to you. " He loved us first so that we might know how it feels or what it is in the first place. I know you think it's better to know someone loves you before you love them. But if your husband didn't love you, do you think he will be here?" You listened, quietly. "I might not know how much he loves you, or whether he even loves you, " The pastor continued. "But what I know is love can be complicated sometimes. I've been doing this job for a while and I see different kinds of love. A couple came here for counseling three days ago. Their complaints? A simple misunderstanding. The woman called her man unromantic. And the man, he called her a fanatic. I asked the woman what exactly she meant by romantic. "Oh, he is an African man." she said. " All he cares about is money. Money and money. He has no time for his family. And when I complain, he says I'm a fanatic. But is there any difference between him and the Mexican men in the soap operas? He is just not romantic. The man disagreed. He was like, " What is romance if you are hungry? I am romantic. I just need my life more than it. " They argued and argued, pointing each other's weakness as if I wasn't there. But at the end of the day, guess what? They embraced each other right before me. Not because I asked them to. But because love can be complicated. One other lady who came for counselling a year ago. She looked whipped. So I said she should break up with her boyfriend. But somehow they got married. And now she is happy with him. The fact that your relationship is complicated doesn't mean your partner doesn't love you. I mean take men for example. They sleep with women they hate and women they love. So how do you know when they are not in love? Or look at Women. They want money and time at the same time. Which can be crazy for any man. You have something and you know it. I can grant a divorce if you still want to. Tell me. What is it going to be?"
" I think my husband already knows.” You said.
Then we left.
A lot of things changed after that. A lot. Like, I was now taking the kids to school often. And calling you beautiful on a daily basis. Just doing anything and everything to make you happy. I even took you to Sparks. Someone told me it was your favorite. But Sparks was also where I met Rhoda. She was working as a waitress. She brought me a card I dropped accidentally after I paid. And that is the woman I think killed you.
She came to me like, “Are you John Smith?"
And I was like, "Yes."
"This must be yours." She said, giving me the card. After I had taken it, she was still staring at me.
Staring at me for what? “Thank you.” I said, thinking it was about manners. But even after that, she was still staring at me. I was like, "Is there a problem?"
She was like, "No. But do you mind if I ask you a question?"
“Go ahead.” I said.
“Did you know Shawn?” She said.
Of course I did. Shawn was like my best friend.
"What about Adjoa?" She said.
I was like, “She is my wife.”
She was like, " Your what?"
" Is something wrong?" I said to her.
" Didn’t you say Shawn was a good friend?" She said.
“Yeah.” I said.
She was like, " So why are you married to his girlfriend?"
I was like, "What is wrong with that? He is dead. And why so many questions? Who was he to you?"
"My brother." She said.
I was like, " Rhoda. Sorry I didn't recognize you. "
She was like, " I know all his friends. It was you. Wasn't it? You did it."
I was like, " Did what?"
She was like, "Why did you do it? Why did you kill my brother?"
Kill Shawn? I was home when he was murdered.
“Liar.” She said. “Murderer.” She screamed. “Murderer.” She grabbed the neck of my shirt angry, screaming and screaming until finally her manager heard it. As soon as he did, he organized some men to carried her away, safe from his customers. No one found her brother’s murderer. But why me?
A day after this incident, you sent me a text message asking me to meet you at our usual place because of our kids. So I got to Alisa as soon as I closed from work. You usually lock the door but this time it was opened. I walked in and before me was the shock of my life. Someone had stabbed you with a knife. Before you could reach the hospital, you died. I am innocent. But apart from you who else knows?
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