Kim stopped advancing towards Mmayen, but kept both of her hands on the gun and her eyes on Mmayen. Kim sighed deeply, and then slowly stretched out her left hand to accept Sunday’s cell phone.
Sunday stood frozen in place like a figure at the Wax Museum. He held out his hands as if poised to catch a thrown baby, while his eyes widened in a bid to read Kim.
Behind him, Mmayen had both her hands and eyes clasped shut, her lips moving feverishly as if in a desperate prayer.
“Give me the gun, honey,” Sunday pleaded as he moved in on Kim. “That’s it. Good girl.”
“Get her out of here,” Kim whispered in Sunday’s ear as she loosened her grip on the gun.
Sunday pried the gun out of Kim’s hand and walked up to Mmayen, who jumped backwards as if startled by a ghost. He draped his left hand over Mmayen’s drooped shoulders, and then nudged her towards the front door.
“Nyong, Go home,” Sunday said as he opened the front door to let his mother out.
“Stop acting like a weakling, Sunday,” Mmayen said in Ibibio. She turned around at the door to face Sunday. “Who wears the pants in this house?”
“Please don’t come back here without me inviting you,” Sunday shot back in Ibibio.
“Whose gun is that? When did you allow a gun in your house?”
“We’ll talk about that later.”
Mmayen made a bid to reenter the house, but Sunday stepped in front of her. “I want my head gear!”
“I’ll bring it to you later.”
“Get out of my way!” Mmayen marched back into the house as if the previous events had not happened.
Sunday turned to see that Kim had moved out of the living room, but her luggage still sat near the door. Mmayen found her gele head gear, and then slowly and dramatically, while eyeing Sunday for effect, put it on, and then marched out of the house.
Sunday closed the door behind Mmayen, leaned against the door, and shut his eyes. He opened his eyes moments later and studied the gun. How did she gain access to it? He always had the case where he kept the gun locked. He pulled the cartridge out of the gun, and took out the bullets.
Lesson number one: Lock the darn thing where nobody could access it. Could have been Bomboy pointing the gun at…anybody. Scary. He entered the guest room and saw that Kim was seated on the bed, his phone pressed against her ear. She rubbed her temples with her right fingers as she spoke into the phone.
Kim turned away from Sunday as she nodded and spoke into the phone. He closed the door and leaned against it. Kim swung her hand backwards, and pointed the cell phone at Sunday. “Gigi says call her later.”
He took the phone from her, and saw that the line was dead. Kim fell back, and lay sprawled on the bed.
“We need to talk,” she said.
“I’m listening,” Sunday said, sighing.
“To a counselor.”
“To a who?”
“A marriage counselor.”
Sunday frowned. “Who’s that?”
Kim sat up. “Who’s that?”
“Yes, who’s that?”
“Someone who can save our marriage.”
“There’s nothing wrong with our marriage.”
“There’s a lot wrong with our marriage.”
“Apart from my mother not minding her own business, what’s wrong?”
“A lot. Your mom’s the major one.”
“I’ve told her not to come here again.”
“You’ve told her a million times not to come here uninvited, yet she still comes.”
“This time I made it very clear to her.”
Kim put on her jacket and aimed for the door. “You need to use something else, Sunday. Your words are not cutting it. The smudge is still there.”
“Sit down!” Sunday was surprised by the force in his voice.
Kim stood still, her brow tight with concern, and her eyes aflutter in their sockets. She slowly sunk unto the chair next to her.
“You had no right removing that gun from its case.”
“I’m sorry, but your mother threatened me.”
Sunday’s shoulders dropped, and his eyes narrowed as if straining to see an object clearly. “My mother, ke? That old woman?”
Kim shot off the chair. “Yes, that old woman. She’s about to destroy our marriage, Sunday. Can’t you see?”
“You had no right pointing that gun at her!”
“I said that I’m sorry. You had no right taping me! Look at what she’s making you do, honey.”
“She’s not making me do anything.”
“Tell me your mother didn’t make you tape me.”
“What makes you think that it wasn’t me?” Sunday put the gun back into its case, locked it and pocketed the key.
“Because that’s not you. I know the man I married.”
“Listen, I’m the man in this house. I make all the decisions.”
Kim stood up defiantly. “Listen to yourself. If I didn’t know you, I’ll think that you just came out of the stone age. You may make the decisions, but your mother is not listening.”
“No, you’re not listening. I said sit down.”
Kim marched towards the door. “I’m outta here.”
Sunday stood in front of her to block her exit from the room. He reached out to grab her just as she brushed past him. He came away with her jacket instead.
She turned around and swung at him. Just then, however, Sunday reached up and grabbed her hand. He grabbed her other hand and pinned both behind her.
“I’m going to teach you a lesson today,” Sunday said. He effortlessly lifted her off the floor, sat on a chair, and then laid her prone on his lap. He turned her over so that she faced the floor.
“Let go, you brute!” Kim kicked and flailed, but Sunday was able to keep her pinned down to his lap. He lifted up her skirt and then froze.
Kim’s white panties hugged the curvaceous cheeks of her buttocks crookedly. Her wiggling torso inadvertently exposed part of a hairy crevice that sent the blood rushing into Sunday’s loins. He licked his lips and scolded himself mentally for being distracted so easily.
“Hey! What’re you doing?” Kim asked, freeing her hands from his grip.
Kim wiggled out of Sunday’s loosened grip, stood up and balled her fists. She made no effort, however, to run away from or charge after Sunday.
Sunday sat on the chair and smiled at her like a Cheshire cat.
“Pervert!” Kim said as she smacked him in the face with a pillow.
“Yes, I am!” Sunday said as he stood up and charged after her. They ran around the room like kids, giggling and pummeling each other with pillows.
A pillow exploded, spilling its cottony contents all over the room. Sunday dove for Kim, but she escaped his charge and ran out of the room. He gave chase, smacking her with the destroyed pillow.
“Come here make I teach you lesson. Make I show you who wear the sokoto for this house!”
“You have to catch me first, bully!”
They both ran around the living room knocking over furniture. Eventually they ended up back in the guest room. Sunday flung the busted pillow away as Kim made a sudden detour and came after him, her face brimming with lust.
They both went after each other with the feverish desperation of two dogs in heat. They ripped each other’s clothes off as they kissed and caressed each other anywhere and everywhere.
Naked, Sunday sat on the chair and then pulled an equally naked Kim towards him, his breathing heavy with lust, and his eyes wild with desire. He wanted her to sit on his lap, but she resisted his pull. Instead, she got on her knees and took his rigid manhood into her warm, wet mouth.
Sunday moaned loudly and with abandon as Kim sucked, licked and rubbed him urgently. Stiff as a rock, Sunday leaned back on the chair. He let his hands fall to his sides, allowing his hungry posture to speak for itself.
Kim slowly mounted him, pinning him down on the chair. Sunday jerked with pleasure as her warm, wet womanhood enveloped him. They both slammed against each other so wildly and passionately that when they climaxed, Sunday pulled on her hair so hard he thought that he’d hurt her.
“I love you,” Kim said under her breath as Sunday and she lay sprawled on the guest room’s bed an hour later. Sunday could feel her fingers caress his scalp. “Do you love me too, Sunday Afia?”
“Yes,” Sunday said, startling her. He could perceive the scent of sex in the room.
“How long have you been awake?”
“What did you hear me say?”
“I love you.” He turned to notice the frown on her face.
“Why? What did you say before that?”
“I love you.”
She rested her head on his chest. “I said that we need to see a marriage counselor.”
He sat up. “Why do you insist on this?”
“We have several issues we have to resolve, Sunday. Your mother is just one of them.”
Kim kept silent for a moment.
“I don’t want you sending money back to Nigeria anymore.”
This time it was Sunday that kept quiet.
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, Sunday. You send a lot of money to Nigeria, to people I hardly know.”
“They are members of my family, Kim. I told you that.”
“Members of your family I haven’t met.”
“You have members of your family I haven’t met.”
“But we don’t send money to them every time they call.”
“I don’t send money to them every time they call.”
“You could’ve fooled me, Sunday. We’re not rich like that. Do you have another family in Nigeria?”
“No, I don’t.” Sunday stood up and put on his clothes. “And I’m not seeing any counselor!” He left the room, slamming the door behind him.