Politeness is to human nature what warmth is to wax- Arthur Schopenhauer.
A hawker shouting: buy your sweet akara (beans-ball) got ifeoma's attention as she strolled mindlessly towards no where in particular, for a moment Ifeoma wished she could be free like the itinerant seller and move about freely and complacent to everything; to her reality, her marriage and the loneliness that has harboured inside her for months.
"Onye akara bia" (beans-ball seller come) how much per one?
" Ha, agadi, pregnant woman, it's fifty naira but I'll sell three for one hundred naira for you. You know it's good to treat a pregnant woman well so the blessings from the child would reach you."
Ifeoma smiles genuinely, Igbos and superstition she thought to herself. "Dalu , thank you, put hundred naira worth of akara for me then. She watches as the woman wraps three oil smeared beans-ball in a black nylon. The meticulous and yet fast way she dips a fork on each of the beans-ball as she puts them inside the black nylon captivated her. The act might be simple but the smile on the woman's face and the way her hands had worked as she forked each oil smeared beans-ball into the nylon had delighted her. Ifeoma brings out a one thousand naira note from her pants and hands it over to the woman and tells her to keep the change.
"Dalu! Nwanyioma, thank you! Good woman onye ozo melu gi, may another person do it for you, your child shall be fine" she said referring to the child in Ifeoma's womb.
Ifeoma couldn't stop smiling. One reason she loved giving was; the peace that comes with it; the prayer especially. "Odimma, good, nkwanu ahia oma, sell well." They both exchanged good byes. The woman continued to sell her market: "buy your sweet akara" she continued shouting.
Ifeoma has being eating about anything ever since she got pregnant, not of hunger or need, rather, of want. As she ate the akara she couldn't stop but wonder how mindlessly she could eat on the road without an atom of shame or care. Her taste buds did not only change, she noticed her mannerism changed as well. Few months back she would never eat gingerly while walking on the road. It wasn't that she condemned the act she didn't just find it appropriate.
As she happily chewed on the second ball almost forgetting her sorrows, a fly came buzzing near the beans balls but she used her hands to wave it off smiling like she's being told a funny joke.
For the past two months she has being busy doing absolutely nothing. Few months back she had being a lady in love with her career. Interior decoration had always fascinated her from her childhood. She didn't know how she took a liking to it.
Might be when she visited her aunt, Juliet after she relocated to Nigeria from lA, United States. She had being fascinated by the interior decor. The sitting room was nothing short of perfect. "Aunty your house is very beautiful, omaka, it pretty" she had said. She was mesmerised by how delicately everything was organised.
"It should, I paid the interior decorator handsomly for it" she said in a rather unnecessarily high pitched tone.
Maybe it was how proud aunt Juliet had being when she said: "interior decorator" was when Ifeoma picked interest. Could also be when aunt Juliet had showed her a room she would be staying. The room radiated beauty, from the floral wallpaper to the beautiful art piece on the wall, down to the orange and black wardrobe to the pink bed shit and white quilt. Everything in the room was just exqusite.
Ifeoma let out a sign as she reminisced on her past. Obi has being treating her well. She smiles as the thought crosses her mind. Indeed, he has being treating her well just like an elder brother would treat his sister but nothing like a husband would.
When Obi had told Ifeoma to stop working something told her it wasn't because she needed rest like he had said. He was ashamed of her, ashamed of what they had done, that was the only logical reason she could think of. She wasn't complaining, she loved her job, she loved training under him but he wouldn't have it when she told him that. He had said he would take care of her needs. Ifeoma knew he must feel embarrassed to be seen around her that was the only thing that made sense. If he can't say it with his mouth, his actions already did in a very audible manner.
"You can stay in the master's bedroom I would take the other room next door" he had said on their wedding night. Whatever happened to honeymoon, who was she kidding, she already licked the honey and now left lonely on the moon. Ifeoma yerns for the day Obi would hold her in his arms just like he had done that day in his drunken state. She would give anything to have him stare at her like he does to his missing wife's picture.
It's being four years since Lucy's kidnap yet Obi have continued to live in denial. Ifeoma never met Lucy but she had heard whispers of their love; his love. Obi loved Lucy dearly Ifeoma couldn't deny the fact. She wasn't asking for such enormous love; if only he could look at her like a husband does to a wife; with affection and not the lame way he looks at her like she was nothing other than a responsibility he has to take care of.
Not like Obi was treating her badly, he even goes with her for checkups most times which Ifeoma earnestly waits for since it was the only time they could be close and the only time she could smell his cologne that she has gotten a liking and carving for.
When Ifeoma had complained about their lack of communication and Obi's nerdsome attitude towards her and their marriage. He had reminded her of the agreement binding their marriage. Tears wailing up her eyes as she recalled.
"I'll marry you but.." she recalled Obi saying.
Authors Note
I appreciate you for reading my book. I sincerely hope it's giving you the thrills you expect. forgive me for any short comings as this is my first time writing in this platform; I'm yet to fully understand it's rudiments. I would really appreciate a fit back. It would help boast my confidence to continue. So, please go to the comment section and drop something.... I'm waiting