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Somewhere, a night bird cried out quite eerily. She shook the glass in her hands gently, musing, causing the golden yellow liquid abiding in it to twirl softly. She took a sip out of the glass and sighed loudly. The fruit juice tasted bland in her mouth despite the fact that it was her favorite flavour, citrus mix. It was about twenty five minutes past midnight and yet she was still up. She had no idea why she couldn't sleep. Scrap that, completely. She knew why, definitely did but was unwilling to admit it. Her unsettling insomnia was the result of several factors. There was tension; anxiety, nervousness, angst, apprehension, foreboding and the fear of the unknown inclusive, all were in gratitude to her upcoming date with Clement the next day –that was today as it was after midnight already.
She knew why this emotions plagued her desperately, threatening to choke life out of her. She loved him, loved Clement and she knew what dinner on a yacht is supposed to mean. She was ready, bodily, and emotionally but not ready psychologically. She kept telling herself that she had nothing to fear. He wasn't her father, the Nwabuagu tiger. He was not one of her three exes, John, Collins and Chima. Clement loved her. Well, the others had claimed to love her too until they had seen, beheld all that was her, her true form, unlovable, repulsing, twisted and void. What made Clement different? She couldn't find a solid reason to set him apart from his predecessors. They all pursued her relentlessly, tirelessly, claiming to want her, desire her. They all made her theirs, later falling in love with her, building and planning a future with her. Then, they all fell out of love with her when they saw the truth of her form. Tears slipped down her eyes. The first time, with John, she had been devastated when he had rejected her, disgust on his face. It had taken a while for her to recover. She had been nineteen then. Then, Collins had fallen into her life and swept her up in a whirlwind of passion, giving her temporary relief from John. But, she had been on her guard. She was glad she had for Collins disappointed her like John. The difference was that she had been prepared and it made the occurrence less painful. Chima was no different, more vehement than the rest in his pursuit of her, hot on her heels, claiming that nothing would part them if she became his. But, her real self had had him fleeing like a scared goose; So much for nothing would part us. She had built up walls and barricade around her heart after that, completely giving up on love.
Therefore, when Clement had come into her life, she had raised her walls higher, been thrice on guard. Yet, he had slipped past all of her defenses and straight into her heart like cupid's arrow, melting it along with her walls and barricade. She had had no idea when all these had happened for he had been as swift as an unexpected tide. Anyways, she was not hoping too much, expecting disappointment and rejection anytime soon. Her meeting with Sandra once came to mind then, doubling or rather tripling whatever the fuck was plaguing her. Her mind quickly went into disoriented shambles as she recalled all that the woman had said to her. She contemplated whether the woman had been right. She should mayhap let Clement go while she could or face a brutal rejection. Sandra had been sure as hell when she said that Clement hated deception. He not only did so, he did so with all his heart and she wondered why. She knew how he talked about people who had deceived his clients and how he thoroughly hated them for doing so, hated them to a core, disgusted by them and why he fought so hard to win such cases so that they could rot in jail for their deceptive sins.
She set her glass of juice on the dining table and stood. She pushed back her chair and walked out of the dining room, heading for the living room with something in mind. It was that box, the one that Corinne had received on her behalf. It was the package that had arrived at her home just that morning in the form of a very large box. She knew that it was the dress that Clement had ordered for her for their date today when Corinne had informed her of it. Her sister hadn't tried to open it despite the curiosity she knew the lady possessed. Well, she was grateful for that for she wanted to be the first to see whatever her lover had chosen for her for their night on a yacht, all romantic, alone.
She arrived at the living room after a few steps. She spied the humungous box in corner. She dragged the box over the tiled floor slowly to her bedroom. She succeeded in doing so after about fifteen minutes for the box was not as heavy as it looked. She shut her bedroom door gently when she had done so, leaning against it. She cut the seal on it with a scissors. She opened the flaps and peered into it. She found that there were five other boxes inside the delivery box when she opened it, the box that held her delivery. She picked the first box. It was the largest of the quintuple boxes and she concluded that that must be the gown. The box was slightly heavy and for a moment, she thought it might be a ball gown. She checked the box, inspecting the logo. She knew the brand that had that design. It was a very popular one. She opened the box and stared in surprise and a bit of delight. A silver sequenced gown stared back at her, gleaming softly under the lights. She loved it instantly. It was a good definition of love at first sight.
She moved on to check the contents of the other boxes. There was a purse to match in the second box, equally and heavily stoned. There were also shoes, a seven inch silver stiletto heel in the third box. It was also shiny like its predecessors. The fourth box held jewelries, both silver and gold, ranging from necklace to earrings, bangle, nose rings, leg chains and waist beads. She smiled. Well, he must really want her as adorned as possible. She wondered what their wedding night would be like if he was like this now, with so much preference. Aren't you thinking too far? She sighed as her mind jarred her to reality. She might as well cross this bridge first before another. She took the fifth box out of the large box and pushed the now empty box aside, finding it of no use. She stared at the small box in her hand. It was the slightly -just slightly- larger than the jewelry box. She wondered what its content might be. She opened it very gently, not in a haste to view its content. In it was a shawl, green, the colour of her eyes. She smiled as the tears that had been residing at the brink of her eyelids found an excuse to fall, freely, unbitten. She touched the material, caressing it slowly. It was as just soft as it looked, smooth to touch.
She abandoned the shawl after a moment of languor, cleaning her tears away with the back of her palm. She picked the dress out of its paper confinement and raised it. It was a really beautiful dress. It was a handless strapped back silver sequenced gown -she knew then why it needed a shawl- with a thigh high slit on the right side. It was one of the best dresses in the brand's spring collection. She loved the design for it made her feel feminine, made her feel just like Samantha and not like herself, Chinwem. She wondered if Clement had thought the same when he had chosen the dress for her. She got out of her clothes, unveiling her flaws as she did so. She slid into the silver gown. It fit, perfectly. How on earth had this man known her size? She smiled. Well, she knew he was perceptive enough, unless he had gone to her seamstress and asked for her measurement. She tightened the straps and tied them tightly. She went to her full length mirror and stood afore it. Her reflection made her cringe. Her skin was as bare as ever, void of any form of makeup and it was marred. There were dark lines across the left side of her face, unraised scars but scars nonetheless. The left side of her neck was not spared during the marking. It was worse, darker than the ones on her face. It was like a zebra's skin, light and dark. She reached behind her and loosened the straps of the dress. The dress became lax against her skin. She caressed her left collar bone which had a thin long scar that disappeared into her dress. She lowered the dress, unveiling the top of her left breast, revealing the scar which ended on her cleavage. There were other scars on her breast. The scars there were slightly raised as if a giant cat had scratched her. She let go of the dress and it drooped. She caught it after a breath. It hung now at her waist, revealing the scars that always almost made her throw up. There were raised and unraised, long and hideous, tangling over the flatness of her stomach, as if someone had written them to be like that which had been. It had been written by her father, on the day he had met his end. He had done so with a fountain pen. She remembered the pain of that day till now, remembered clearly what she had felt when the pen had run across her flesh, tearing, marring. She had gone insane with the pain, struggled and fought then resorted to screaming and pleading. But, all had been to no avail. Her father had been stronger than her, with a heart that was harder than diamond.
She yanked the dress up, covering their obvious hideousness, her hideousness as tears sprang free of her eyelids, heavy with moisture. She turned away from the mirror abruptly and hurried out of the dress. Could she really wear this? She could cover the marks on her face, neck and collar bone with makeup. But, if he loosened the straps, she would be bare before him in all of her cruel deformity. She didn't want to lose Clement, she would risk it all, for him and she hoped that he would do same for her when he found out the thing she wanted hidden the most.