Onyx…..Part III

I remember the day. I was in the process of making dinner when Femi called and said that his Step father was town and wanted desperately to meet the lady in his life.

I was nervous and excited and petrified to cook for ‘the family’.

Femi had told me about this man. He wasn’t Femi’s birth father, but then again, according to Femi, his birth father wasn’t worth the mention.

This man had paid for Femi’s education and mentored him, it was clear that Femi adored him.

I wanted to meet the man, who had made this man up just for me.

We showed up at the hotel’s restaurant and when the man walked up to us; I passed out.

For years Femi told me that the man’s name was Mr Folarin but when I walked into the restaurant, Mr Segun stood in front of me with his palm outstretched.

“Bimpe, are you okay?” Femi dabbed my forehead with the damp cloth.

I stared at him hoping that I’d been mistaken and it was some bizarre resemblance to the man I once knew.

“What happened?”

“My uncle was about to shake your hand when you fainted.”

“Are you alright?”

“Femi, what is your uncle’s name?”

“Mr Adefolarin, I thought I told you this before?”

“I mean, what is his full name?”

Femi frowned, “Adefolarin Olusegun Ola.”

I sighed deeply when he said the last names.

“Bimpe, whats wrong?”

“I must have had him confused with someone else.” I lied.

How was I to explain to him that the man he most respected violated and took from ‘me’ away from me?

“Where is he?”

“He had to leave for an urgent meeting, but he’ll be back later tonight. Do you think you’ll be up to it, then?”

“I don’t think so Hun. I think it’s that time of the month”

Femi frowned again, “Bimpe, your cycle just ended a week ago.”

“I know, but sometimes it comes twice, in one month. It’s weird I know.” I forced a smile.

I definitely need to make an appointment with my therapist.

If Mr Segun was Femi’s father, he’ll constantly be in our lives.

“It’s such a shame; I really wanted you to meet him.”

The fake smiles were beginning to make my cheeks hurt.

“Some other time, I promise.”

“Let’s order something and watch a movie at home then.” He smiled.

I was waiting at my therapist office as early as 8am.

“Bimpe, you must really be distressed, my office isn’t open until 9am!” she laughed when she drove in at 8:30.

“It’s the worst that could happen, doctor.”

She took out her pen and notepad and urged me to begin to share.

I explained how I had bumped into my nightmare and how much I wanted to tell Femi, but I didn’t know how he’d react.

Sharing made me feel a lot better but didn’t absolutely remove my concerns.

My therapist advised me not to tell him, perhaps after we have been married for a while and when Mr Ola has passed away.

According to her, telling him something like that would not only ruin him, emotionally but whatever affections he has for me will suffer as well.

I had some doubts and thought it best to just tell him anyways but after her advice, it seemed wiser to just sweep all under the carpet.

We talked about the awkwardness of being with Mr Ola and all the upcoming encounters.

I was very convinced that he couldn’t remember me, or maybe he did in the sense that he knew he raped a ten year old girl, but he didn’t realize that I was that ten year old girl.

A lot of people said I looked more like my late father than my mother. I was much taller than she was and maintained a slim physique where my mother was a little chubby; I wore my hair short, just beneath my ears.

My therapist agreed and advised that mum-was-the-word; if he didn’t say anything, neither should I.

To be quite honest I though her advice was quite desperate, but then again, Femi and I had been together for six years and I felt what we had was worth preserving.

As fate and Cupid would have it, Femi proposed a month later in the most romantic manner ever.

Warning bells went off in my head but I said yes anyways.

During one of our marriage counselling classes the Pastor had asked us to share our deepest darkest secrets; so that our relationship would grow stronger.

In retrospect that day would have been mighty awesome to tell him the truth but I clamped my lips shut and just smiled endearingly as Femi shared that he had slept with over ten females, including a mother and daughter and twins.

We prayed about it and our relationship did grow stronger, but I never breathed a word of what transpired between his father and I.

We met with Mr Ola on several occasions and I was more than convinced that the man had no clue who I was.

It burnt me, to see him smile and laugh and enjoy life like he had not stolen in his past, like he had not killed in his past, like he had not raped me.

During our dinner dates, I found myself often holding on to the carving knife a little too much and daydreaming a little too long.

I admit, I really shouldn’t have gone along with the bells and whistles of marriage or the wedding, fully knowing that I had skeletons in my closet.

My wedding day was wonderful.

It was more than a princess could wish for and right before my husband and I were whisked away into the honeymoon of our dreams, my mother grabbed my arm and pulled me aside.

“Bimpe, I think  I just saw Mr Ola.” I could see a mix of fear and anger in her eyes.

“I know, he’s Femi’s mentor” I said, lacking a better word.

My mother’s face fell,” you knew this and still married the man! He’s a monster Bimpe, just like his mentor” she made air quotes.

“Mum, I know Femi and he is nothing like Mr Ola.” I replied a little too sharply.

“Listen to me Bimpe, when I was dating Segun, it wasn’t written on his forehead what kind of horrible monster he was, in fact if anything he was sweet and kind and..” she stopped mid sentence, suddenly getting upset.

“Bimpe, I think you need to call this entire thing off! Get this marriage annulled and walk away!”

“Femi isn’t like that, trust me, I know what a beast is and Femi is not.”

She looked deeply into my eyes and sighed,” If that’s what you want, then so be it.”

I smiled and took her hands in mine compassionately, “You have been there for me mum, through a lot of nonsense. Remember that guy I was dating in my second year, Andrew?”

We both laughed.

Andrew was a mess, an accident waiting to happen. His temper could shame ten demons. Thank God I found out quickly before he smashed my head with a rock!

“I promise you mum, everything is going to work out perfectly.”

She seemed unconvinced and about to ask another question but smiled instead.

“Run along and have a wonderful wedding night!” she winked.

With joy in my heart I picked up my dress and went in search of my husband.

It felt so good to say the word, husband.

We waved goodbye to our friends and family and left to the hotel.

Butterflies flurried in my belly, tonight was the proverbial night where, ‘it was going to go down!’

Thanks to my best friend Ashley, the hotel room was fancied up with rose petals and candles and a sexy lingerie on the bed that would make any strong man turn to mush.

Everything was perfect.

Femi had to dash out for a minute to settle some little dispute between his best-men.

I used that time to slip into something ‘comfortable’.

When he returned, I was sitting on the bed, smelling of lavender and cinnamon.

He slowly crawled up to me and smiled.

“What a day it has been!” he giggled and reached across the bed to where I sat and tickled her.

“How does it feel to be Mrs. Daniels?” he stopped tickling and began to rub my shoulders.

‘Breathe Bimpe breathe’ I psyched myself as new emotions suddenly began to engulf me.

Femi began to touch me and no matter how hard I tried, all I could think of was his step father, mentor, rapist old man.

All I could think of was another place and another time and those words.

I know you want this, you beg for this all the time.”

Femi pulled back and stared at me.

“What are you doing? What is it? Stop!” he yelled holding my arms.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s ok, it’s only sex, you wouldn’t die, besides we are married now, so there’s nothing wrong with it!” he sighed

“Gosh, you are acting so weird!”

“I’m so sorry” I rubbed my head.

“It was…never mind” I sighed

“Let’s start again!” I giggled and got off the bed.

‘I can do this!’

I tried I really did but like a deck of cards, everything began to fall apart, and quickly.

Before I knew it, I was yelling at him and saying things I didn’t mean.

“This is too messy” I sobbed.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid therapist!”

What was I to do now? I had no idea where he went.

I ransacked the overnight bag; my bridesmaids had filled it with lingerie of different shades and fabrics.

“I just need jeans, dammit.” I yelled at the open bag.

At the bottom of the bag was a pair of jeans and tee shirts.

I quickly put them on and went in search of Femi.

 

**Sorry, Ive been a lil under the weather, so the post is coming on so late :(



10 thoughts on “Onyx…..Part III” by Mobola (@mobola)

  1. Stupid MC, stupid therapist, stupid mother…

    Don’t know, but things don’t just add up well for me in this part.

    If the MC could stand the Monster that hurt her, then why couldn’t she tell the Man she was to get married to.

    What kind of therapist tells you to keep mum, knowing well that the first rule of healing is sharing and talking…

    And what kind of mother also agrees to that…I don’t know but the MC sounded more like she just didn’t want to lose Femi at all cost.

    Well Done!!!

  2. Thankyou very much @teewah, you just spoke my mind. Therapist kor, therapist ni. I’ll just keep my fingers crossed till the next part.

    The mc just keeps getting ‘wronger and wronger’…. *forgive my concord.*

    Good job mobola.

  3. I don’t know what else to say. How can the man that raped you be your God-father-in-law and you pulled so swiftly with the wedding yet refused to open up to your husband? Your story doesn’t sound real to me, I’m sorry. Then, your mother never met his family till you got married? That’s not african-like.

    1. The part of the In-laws not meeting till the wedding day really does not flow. That does not happen anywhere in this side of the world, does it? The therapist sef, dey suppose collect her license.

  4. All of the comments above speak what’s on my mind…but one thing was missed:

    What’s with the one-line telling? I didn’t enjoy that.

    Okay.

    Next part.

  5. Nice comments everyone………….. Good work though.
    *Fingers crossed*

  6. This part 3 doesn’t make sympathizing wt ur MC any easier…post the next, if there still is one…Well done.

  7. Nice Work…

    I felt somethings were not really flowing through…. The introduction which is one paramount culture of “an african” is really not there,, seemed they just jumped on themselves while in the street and gave no place for a proper courtship even though they spent 6yrs in it.

    *but is it my thinking?* I dont see any need to prolonge this story.. maybe in the next part, you should end it or else you may loose your audience as the story become boring..

    Keep up the good work…cheers

  8. I must say u had d worst set of people around u…..why would a therapist tell u 2 keep such a thing….ds wasn’t really an interesting read 4 me…..

  9. Since when did we start seeing therapists??
    Hehehehe

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