My boss wants to marry me. No, don’t hold your head and shout, now, I want to marry him too. In fact, I have the proposal all planned out, down to the restaurant he’ll take me to on my birthday and the shirt he’ll wear when he pops the question. It will be that sky blue shirt I bought but haven’t given him yet, I’m waiting for the opportune time. Yes, I know it’s strange that I’m the one planning the proposal but it has to be this way, you see, because my boss wants to marry me but he doesn’t know it yet.
Ours is a match made in heaven, I want him and I’ll get him and that’s all that matters. Kola… I like to sit at my desk and dreamily say his name; I imagine calling it out in the throes of passion… Sigh. He insists that I call him Mr Adebowale, though, and I comply for now even though it’s all quite silly. I mean, I’m his wife to be! I don’t know why he plays these games, really, I want him and he has no say in the matter.
Just yesterday I wore that little black skirt and see through blouse, the set I bought just for him. I looked good enough to eat, but he walked past me pretending not to notice. I mean, he is a man, how could he not notice? He wanted to rip them off me and make love to me right there on the office floor. He just doesn’t know that yet. When I went into his office to take the morning dictations I purposely sat next to him on the sofa making sure my bare thigh brushed against his hand, he jumped up like he’d been touched by fire, adjusted his tie and ordered me out of the office mumbling something about recording the dictations instead. You see what I mean? Barely concealed passion. A lot of times he tries to masquerade the passion as anger when I lean too close to him or speak so quietly that he has to lean towards me to hear. When he shouts at me I just smile and forgive him for he knows not what he does. He’s never eaten the snacks I bake for him, always shares them out to the other secretaries, but that’s ok, I know he’s waiting for a time when he can eat my meals, cooked in our own home. He’s tried to get me transferred, to get a different secretary, but I’m sleeping with the chairman and so I stayed put. I wonder why he hasn’t realized that I always get what I want.
Oh, did I forget to mention his wife? Well, if you can call that 6ft tall, skinny as a rake boobless wonder a wife. Her name is Chika and I wonder why she torments our Kola with that body every night when I know he’d rather have this 5ft 8” curvaceous wonder that is me. He claims to love her, even pretends to get agitated when I make sure work keeps us back in the office till late. I told you she has bewitched him, if she hadn’t why would he want to bring the house down because I kept him at work till just 9pm. Isn’t he a man? Chika the witch, that’s what I like to call her. She thinks I can’t see through her submissive wife act into her wicked soul. I know she trapped Kola into that marriage, Lara their little girl was born just 5 months after the wedding. Then she decided to quit her job, claiming she wanted to watch the home front so he could focus on building his career without distractions. Anyway, with a body like that and her empty head she needs to act the floor mat to keep a man like Kola. She pretends to care, dropping in to see him at work once or twice every week and bringing her rock hard cakes to share out to the secretaries. She’s won them all over, but me, I’m wiser. I remember laughing out loud when I saw the note she left in Kola’s lunch box the other day, “sweets for my sweet”, not even an original thought. Of course I took it out and shredded it, and I’ve done that with every note she’s left since. Like I said, she’s a manipulator. She invites me over for Sunday lunch once or twice each month, trying to ‘open her home to me’, what’s she trying to prove? Is she trying to rub her perfect family in my face? Show me what I’m missing? She says I should feel at home. Of course I do, it will be my own home soon. It’s good she does so anyway; it gives me a chance to bond with Lara. And that’s necessary seeing as I’ll soon be her mother.
Mr and the current Mrs Adebowale. I sit here watching them at the Christmas party. They’ve left their drinks with me the ‘help’ while they hobnob with the people that matter. But what could my Kola possibly see in this drab creature? He’s a good man, though, so he pretends to the world that he loves her like she is. I mean, even now at the party there he is with his arm around her non-existent waist probably explaining the chairman’s joke to her as she looks on vacantly. He must have spent the equivalent of my salary on her today and she still looks like my house girl, but there he is now looking into her eyes and laughing at one of her dry jokes. No, she’s definitely bewitched him somehow and as his God appointed woman I have a responsibility to rescue him, and I will.
I glance at her again. Pitiful creature. She has nothing to live for, really. And I know I’m doing her a favour as I pour the rat poison into her wine and then hug them both goodnight. Tomorrow I’ll be there to offer Kola a shoulder to grieve on and Lara a mother to cry to.