The India soap opera showing on the flat screen television that did engross her in time past was the least thing on her mind as she glanced at the wall clock for the umpteenth time. It was four hours past the normal time her husband normally arrived home from work.
After calling severally and hadn’t gotten a response, Lillian had been compelled to send an apology text message but for a response an hour later, she had received three worded text message- Don’t expect me.
She had called back for clarification but his numbers had been switched off and had remained so since then. Tears formed in her eyes, the man she loved was out there and she didn’t know where and having heard enough stories to know that one night was enough to ruin a marriage forever sent shivers down her spine.
She fidgeted with her palms thoughtfully and then glanced at her phone contemplatively. Who was she going to call to inquire of her husband that wouldn’t ask for explanations?
His friends? Family members?
She shook her head. Matthew would come back to her; he would change his mind and come back to her. She stood, drew aside the curtains and peered out.
He would come back. She smiled faintly feeling confident. Her sweetheart didn’t have the heart to leave her all by herself. He wasn’t that kind of man. She sniffed and wiped her tears. He would come back.
Matthew laughed heartily. “You are something else Eniola!” He declared in between bales of laughter.
“Abi na, what do you want me to say?” Eniola chuckled as she directed her gaze back to the flat screen television showing the models with their various clothing on the runway. She was an On Air Personality on radio and his favorite cousin.
“No wonder it is always difficult to reach you on radio because of your teeming fans. You do have ways with words.”
She had taken a jibe on the make up and clothing of one of the models. “It can only be God. Big bro, you’re yet to tell me what our dear wife did?” She directed her attention to him. They were in her exquisitely designed and furnished sitting room sharing a sofa.
“Our darling sweet wife needs a break or don’t you miss me already?” He beamed and without waiting for reply added. “When do I get to meet the one? You’ve not been updating me o.”
“It is not a small something o.” She exhaled and her brows furrowed into a frown. “Do you remember Chichi my friend?”
He shook his head.
“Chichi Olamide, the beauty queen and the one I told you I was going to be her maid of honor. The wedding was two months before yours.”
“The wedding was in the Bahamas?”
“That’s right!” She affirmed and then sighed deeply. “Two weeks back, her husband beat her black and blue with horse whip.”
“Lord Jesus! Horse whip ke?” He echoed in disbelief, his eyes almost popping out of its sockets.
“Horse whip.” She confirmed and then her brows knitted in remembrance. “When I saw her I broke down and cried, it was so intense that after I left the hospital for work, I couldn’t fill in for Mary Jane, my colleague who was on leave. Big brother, I wept like a baby. Her eyes, face, body were scathed. From what I saw, her sight might not remain the same after recovery. She is abroad now. Marriage of just six months! Six months pere!” She frowned shaking her head. “Chichi is the best of my friends; so humble, selfless and hardworking. There was a time I wanted to hook up you two. ”
“That’s inhumane. Whatever was that for?” His forehead creased into a frown.
“Big bros… the guy is even a lawyer, who should know better.”
“The guy has psychosis that is yet to be diagnosed. What he did was a premeditated act besides who keeps horse whip in their homes?” His voice rose with exasperation laced irritation.
“I am scared o big bro, I have decided to take my time and leave no stone unturned in my preparation. I have told all the guys in my life to calm down.”
Matthew chuckled at the serious expression on her face and hand gestures.
“I just finished reading a couple of books on temperament; I am currently reading Gary D. Chapman’s the five love languages.”
“Baby girl!” He hailed and extended his right palm for a high-five.
She obliged him smiling. “A lady needs to be armed. I heard my friend husband was very remorseful afterwards. From my studies, he might be choleric.”
“Choleric, what’s that?” He raised a brow.
“I can’t teach you. I’ll give you the books to read.” She stood. “Would you accompany me to the awards am hosting tonight?”
“Only if you will purchase what I’ll wear.”
“No qualms. Let me set the table, afterwards, to the shopping mall.” She was fair skinned like he was, average height with a face that most time looked like it was engraved with a grin. He absentminded watch her head for the kitchen with the story of her friend paramount on his mind.
She glanced at his wedding portrait set on the dressing table where he was grinning from ear to ear and looked away.
She missed him. She missed him awfully and her heart ached for him. For his sonorous voice, his influential smile and laughter, the warmth of his touch and his companionship. His absence was driving her crazy, it was making her thoughts go wild and she didn’t like it one bit. If not that she didn’t let emotions get in the way of her six figures salary, her work would have suffered immensely this past couple of days.
Dumping the last of the wipes she had used on her face in the dustbin, She stood and caught a glimpse of herself on the full length mirror.
Frowning as she palpated her cheeks not liking what she saw, her usually white conjunctiva now had traces of red and her lower lids were swollen.
In the period of his absence she had thought of number of ways to punish him for deciding to punish her so.
In a fit of rage, she had taken ten of his favorite shirts out to the back of the house, removed them from their hangers in and could have burnt them but had developed cold feet at the generator house where she had gone to for fuel.
Matthew would go bananas.
She had realized that and changed her mind. When she did see him eventually she would pay him back in his own coin besides she was no coward.
She heaved as she head for bed knowing it would be another sleepless night. When she eventually drift to sleep she would awake sweating profusely from nightmare of fruitlessly prying women from the arms of her husband.