Mary Adebayo huh sat at the dressing table in the master bedroom staring at her image in the mirror. Today is her husband’s funeral. She couldn’t stop being angry. She should have told him she wasn’t in the mood when he came on to her. He would still be alive if she had turned down his sex offer. But she couldn’t. He had been out of the country on business for over six months and she was already very horny. Even if he hadn’t travelled, Yemi never did satisfy her sexually. He was 76 years old and in bed, he seemed older. Her 28 year old self just was never satisfied with his 1 minute orgasms; but when he came downstairs that night, she wanted… No, needed to have her kitty petted. She had told Bimpe, the housekeeper to go home so they could have the whole house to themselves. It was a good thing the children had gone to a birthday party and weren’t due home till their 9pm curfew. Oh! Yemi surprised her that night. After three rounds of intense hungry and nasty rough sex, they both laid down on the carpet in the sitting room and talked about general nothing. He got up again and started taking her missionary style when all of a sudden he tensed up. She had thought it was another explosive orgasm and she was writhing and grinding up to him but after a few seconds, he fell against her. She made fun of him for a few seconds saying he was biting off more than he could chew when she realized that he was limp. He had died from a heart attack while having sex with her. Each time she thought about it, she couldn’t help but mutter “That is just messed up”. While she gave her statement at the police station, everyone looked at her bizarrely. They whispered among themselves and called her names. Some said she had married him for the money. No one seemed to understand how someone would choose a polygamous home at the beginning of her life and worse be married to a man as old as that. Some called her a whore and said she must have had magun (thunderbolt) on her. How else could a husband have died while making love to his wife? She squeezed her eyes shut; a lonely tear escaped and ran down her cheeks.
She opened her eyes and looked at herself in the mirror again. It’s his funeral. There would be more judging eyes. She didn’t blame them. Yemi had eight ex-wives and so many children who he still catered for till his death. They all had no jobs; who needed a job when you’re married to Yemi Adebayo? He has a chain of companies to his name, at least three houses in each state of the country and a fleet of cars. Mary smoothed her hand over her jet black hair that she had packed into a pony tail and studied her image again. She seemed to have aged more in the few weeks after the incidence. Her concealer had done a good job hiding the dark circles under her eyes.
“Mummy, we’re ready. Let’s go” Her daughter, Bisoye called from the doorway.
“I’ll be right down baby. Is your brother ready too?”
“Yes. He’s waiting downstairs” The girl came into the room. She was just 15 years old but was a spitting image of her mother.
“Mummy, you’ve been crying again.” She had worry written all over her face
“No baby. I had something in my eyes. I’m fine now. She immediately got up from the dresser and let her daughter lead her out of the room and down the stairs. Her son, Ayoola, who just turned 11 a few weeks before, sat on the chair at the bar and got up when they showed at the top of the stairs. The trio headed outside and got into the Bentley that was waiting to take them to the funeral.
The priest’s sermon was pretty much what all priests say at funerals. Time and seasons. It seemed everything was playing in slow motion. The pall bearers lowered his coffin and the service was over. As she was walking over to the car, Ayoka, one of Yemi’s ex-wives sauntered before her and blocked her path.
“You’re glad now, aren’t you?” She looked clownish with the heavy makeup she had on.
“You have succeeded in killing him. You this stupid whore” she shouted at the top of her voice and kept pointing fingers dangerously at Mary that she feared Ayoka might stick the plump finger in her eye.
“I didn’t kill him” Mary answered in a voice so feeble.
“Of course, you didn’t. Magun did. The one in your body. Oloriburuku! Ashewo! Yemi see your life! I said you would regret it when you thought I wasn’t good enough anymore. See where you ended” she started wailing.
The other wives who stood aside as the drama ensued stepped forward and started consoling her, eyeing Mary with contempt.
If looks could kill….
Mary left them and continued toward the shade under which their car was parked.
She was almost there when Inspector Michael stopped her.
“Sorry to bother you, Mrs Adebayo. We’ve met before, I am Inspector Michael Anyi. I’m sorry I have to bring this up now. You will have to come to the station for some further questions.”
Her heart sank.
“Can’t this wait officer? You have been questioning me for weeks now. What do I have to say differently now? It’s my husband’s funeral.” She was almost shouting.
“I am sorry ma’am but it is to update you on the investigation. You don’t have to come with me right now. But please be at the station by 8am tomorrow morning.”
Mary couldn’t fight the heavy sigh that followed. She couldn’t wait for it all to be over.
“Okay. I’ll be there”
“Thank you for your co-operation. See you” Saying that, the man left.
As she walked over to the car, she couldn’t help but wonder what new development they could have. She got into the car and told her children who had been watching the whole drama from the back of the car it was nothing as she saw the questions in their eyes. She tapped the driver who seemed to have dozed off and the car sped off.