Dear Nnanna,
Good morning. Kedu?
It is not often that I write because the life of a newlywed is quite the project. Unfortunately, the honey moon was cut quite short because Odogwu said he spent so much at our Igba-Nkwu, and his shop could not be closed for more than a few days. So we although we had flown to Abuja in business class on our wedding night, we returned only a few days later to Port Harcourt with the Ekenedilichukwu Mass Transit.
We are now settling in, I think. But I am not quite settled.
Come, let me give you gist.
As if it was not bad enough that Odogwu made me wait for the seven months of his Johannesburg programme, taunting me every night with calls. And you know how his calls can be. His smooth, deep, chocolate infused, hormone spiking, heaven descending voice. Not to mention how intense they got when they were having winter. How he used to call me ‘choko-laytum’, as his voice guided me to slide myself inside of me. How naughty he was with his ‘threats’. If there was one thing I was looking forward to this whole year it was his coming back.
And then he finally did. We met physically for the first time at the Cinema. I remember how the hair on my neck rose when his thick fingers chose the couples seat at the last row of the viewing room. I can’t recall the film because I was floating with desire for him the whole night. At the couples seat he layed his hand between my thighs, just above my knee. It was heaven. It sent volts to the place between skull cap and lace-frontal. The popcorn in my mouth got hotter and hotter. I did not want to rush him or make him think I was cheap. I wanted him, so I had to be a lady. I knew he wanted me too. So it was only a matter of time.
His kisses…., Nnannaaaaa. His kisses where quite the starter. He took his time. It felt like his tongue had well-oiled joints in them. So I waited and waited.
But then he proposed before we could … And then everyone took their spot in our bedroom.
We got registered for couples counselling in the church. The women’s meeting leader instructed me to ‘keep myself’ till my wedding night. And you know mum went on and on about pre-marital sex and pregnancy.
Odogwu’s house was not even safe anymore. His mum moved in. Bless Mama Odogwu’s heart, he makes the best moi-moi. But the way she kept kept hovering around like a helicopter whenever I visited. Apparently, it was revealed to her pastor that if did not have premarital sex our first pregnancy would be twins. As such all the doors in the house should be kept open. And even when I slept over, it was with her.
I was coming to the end of the my National Youth Service, and now beginning to look for jobs. Odogwu was still trying to stabilize himself. So the tension was quite high for us as individuals. So many times, I just wanted to uber to his place at 1am and just cry crawl into his arms and cry and cry. But that same 1am will be when mum will be praying so loud in the living room about about my wedding.
As our wedding approached, Odogwu’s calls got less frequent. The day the negotiations happened. He did not seem like himself. He was not the Odogwu that I fell in love with. You remember that time you took him to your room so that it seems like I mistakenly bumped into him? The man had not been sleeping. Business was not so great, and the wedding was draining him. He just held me and sobbed and sobbed.
‘I’m trying’ he said. ‘I’m trying’.
When we checked into our hotel room on our wedding night. I dashed into the bathroom to prepare for my man. Pastors, mothers and female church leaders miles away. When I got out in that shimmering lilac number, Odogwu was crouched by the desk on his laptop.
‘Nkem’ he said, without looking back. ‘I’ll be only a few minutes neh,’
He looked at my reflection in the mirror above him. Teasingly wagged his tongue at me. Winked.
‘You better come ravage this feast this minute’ I thought.
‘Take your time babes’, I said, as I hugged him lightly from behind.
Then I gently crawled into be, contorting my body into all sorts of not so subtle postures to nail not so subtle ideas into his head. I fell asleep to the beauty of his broad shoulders and perfectly oblong neatly shaved head.
‘This is mine’. I thought. ‘This is all mine’.
A few hours later, I woke up to the feeling of being choked. Odogwu’s weight was crushing me.
‘Choko-laytum’ he whispered as he huffed and puffed rapidly.
‘Odogwu can we just…’ As I tried to relieve myself a bit.
‘Shut up!’ he said firmly. ‘Pinning me to the bed’
‘This is mine. You’re mine’. He tore further in. He went midly firm to razor sharp and then midly firm. He was too cold, too wet, too little.
He wiggled and bounced, and groaned. His eyes shut, his body pouring with sweat. Some beast had possessed the man that I fell in love with.
‘All mine’ he said ‘all mine‘.
To say that I was badly bruised, Nnanna, would not be sufficient.
In the days that followed he carried on like nothing had happened except that at first he could not look me in the eyes and always seemed to be few steps ahead.
I was dazed for so long. Unsure whether I had dreamt this or it really happened.
The night we returned to Port Harcourt, he gave me a proper tour of his place. He showed me where everything was at his place. From the emergency cash, to his pistol to where he kept his spare match box. He also cooked for me.
Just after we prayed for dinner, he whispered, ‘I’m sorry. I’m very sorry’, just before he leaned in to kiss me.
It has been a few weeks of married life. A few weeks since that night. Although my bruises are healed, he has not touched me again.
We talk and we laugh. And things are great. But it seems like when things get too great, he disappears into his work.
Mum says, marriage is like a Christmas parcel. You never know what you get or the extent of it. But it is the graceful thing to smile and be thankful as you unwrap and as you check.
While I am checking still. I have discovered a hair salon not so far from our home. There is a stylist, Oluchi whose hair washing and scalp massage skills are toe-curlingly good. There is something she does that I call the butterfly stroke. It is when all her ten fingers drive towards each other on the back of my head, her firmness ploughing through softness of my scalp and neck. There was this time, I was alone with her in the shop and her wet thumbs extended to my lower-back. It felt so good. I almost cried.
At the end of my washing and setting that night, she leaned in, her chin almost touching my shoulder, I could feel the warmth of her face.
‘You’re such a gorgeous woman.’
She set me aflame. And for the first time in months, I did not belong to Odogwu.
Nnanna. You need to come home, fast. I was ever clueless about anything, it is now.
Nwannegi nwanyi,
Chikodinaka
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