MY PERFECT STRANGER (4)

Wife. ‘I ran into your wife in Tesco last month…’

Wife.Richard.Marriage.

I felt like I was having an out-of-body-experience. I couldn’t breathe. I broke out in cold sweat. I felt my tummy churning.

Like a flood, everything Richard said to me came cascading down my mind: ‘When I am with you, I feel the magic’. ‘I want you. All of you. I want you to be mine. In every way possible. You and me together’…

‘I ran into your wife in Tesco last month…’

‘Breathe’, my mind commanded.

It was a struggle to breathe and I felt like my mind was actually teaching me how to breathe.

‘That’s right girl. Breathe. Just breathe’.

After I got my breathing under control, I started debating whether to run from the park or not. My mind was in disarray. What do I do? Pretend I hadn’t heard that Richard was married? If I walk up to him, how would I look to his friend? Would he think of me as the whore Richard was keeping in Nigeria? Oh my God!

‘You are not a whore!’ My mind hissed. ‘Don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you run out of here. You have always prided yourself on how strong you are. Now is the time to show that strength. You can do this. We are in this together. Go on. Walk up to him. Confront him. You got this’.

It took me less than 10 steps to approach Richard. I got to him and nodded to his friend Dele who acknowledged the nod and patted Richard on the shoulder with an announcement to catch up with him later. I took an extra deep breath and put on my acting garb.

‘Your water, Richard’. I stretched out my hand to him. As he took the water from me, it became clear to me that he knew I had heard his friend Dele talk about his wife. He stared at me with guilt written all over his face, like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar. I shifted uncomfortable from one foot to the other.

‘You are married Richard’. I said looking him straight in the eyes. I don’t know whether it was my voice or something in my eyes, but he didn’t deny it.

‘Yes.’

I felt a myriad of emotions.

Anger. Betrayal. Pain. 

I felt stupid, as though I was a pawn on a chessboard played by a grandmaster.

While a part of me was thankful he didn’t deny being married, another part wished I would wake up and realize I had been dreaming all along. That he never existed. Or that I never met him.

I opened my mouth and what came out was: ‘Do you have her picture? I want to see her’.

 For the life of me I couldn’t explain where that request came from. But the moment the words left my mouth, I knew I wanted to see his wife. My rival. No, not rival. She wasn’t. She was the recognized wife. Whereas I was the side… I couldn’t complete the sentence.

Richard nodded and walked towards his car. I followed him and sat on the bonnet. He opened a compartment in the car and brought out a picture of himself standing with a woman and two little boys. I couldn’t explain it, but my eyes were drawn first to the cherubic boys. They were both smiling. The bigger kid had his two front teeth missing.

‘How old are they?’ I asked, not taking my eyes off their faces.

‘Jake is six. David is three. He actually turned three last month’.

Rather than make the situation better, Richard’s explanations worsened the internal crisis I was going through. His son turned three the month before. Was he with me on the day he could have spent skyping or face timing with his son?

I felt nausea rising and swallowed. I allowed myself to finally look at Richard’s wife.

She was so stunning. Her skin was ivory smooth and she had jet black hair. She also had a very captivating smile. There was something about her smile that made her relatable. And she was slim. Child birth had not altered her body. Stunning as a word didn’t do her justice but it was what I could come up with at the moment.

 I handed the photo back to Richard and walked towards the passenger side of the car. I opened the car and got in. Without being told, Richard got into the driver’s side and closed the door.

It was a tortuous drive back home. My mind was in turmoil. I kept replaying events of the last 20 minutes in my mind. And somehow, I felt abandoned by my over sabi mind. He/she/it/whatever deserted me when it mattered most. Who does that? I thought. I opened my eyes and realized that the car engine had been turned off. We were parked in front of my house. I glanced at Richard and noticed him staring at me. Was that pity I saw in his eyes? That would just kill me. I didn’t need his pity! What bloody pity. Nonsense! I had my hand on the door, ready to step out when I paused. I took my hand off the door. I couldn’t leave like that. I deserved an explanation from Richard for Pete’s sake. I needed to at least know why he did what he did. Would I believe him? That far, I couldn’t fathom yet. But still, I needed to know.

I turned to him. ‘I just want to know one thing Richard. What was your plan?  You wanted to have a relationship with me, right? But to what end? What did you have in mind exactly?’

Richard sighed. ‘Listen sweetheart, I didn’t plan for this to happen. I didn’t plan on falling for you’.

I released a caustic laughter. ‘You didn’t plan for this to happen? Richard you stalked me! You positioned yourself close to my office, every single day, while being married all the while. And you didn’t plan for this to happen? You must think you are talking to an idiot’.

‘Okay, I agree I pursued you but I wanted to be friends with you. I liked you the first time I saw you. But, the more I got closer to you, the more I didn’t want to let go. Believe me, I couldn’t help myself’. Richard said with a tone a resignation.

‘Oh, spare me that I-can’t-help-myself-bullshit, Richard! You couldn’t help yourself? That’s the best you could come up with? All this while I was frolicking with a married man who couldn’t take a second from his helplessness to announce that he had a wife and two kids tucked away in a picturesque little cottage in England’.

‘And don’t you think using the word frolicking is a bit of an exaggeration, my dear?’

‘Humor me, sir, what would you use in place of frolicking?’ I shot back.

‘You were not frolicking with a married man. We didn’t do anything. Okay, maybe a few kisses here and there but that was just about it. Frolicking is not the right word here’, Richard said.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He was actually justifying what he did? The nerve!

‘Okay smart guy, answer me this, will you? If the roles were reversed, would you be so casual about ‘a few kisses here and there’? If you caught your wife with another person and she gave what you just did as an explanation, would you still be as dismissive? Answer me!’

‘My wife is not the subject of discussion here and she wouldn’t dare do that, by the way’, Richard answered, a little forcefully.

I laughed with derision. ‘Some of you men never cease to amaze me. It’s okay for you to indulge in a few kisses here and there across the Atlantic but your wife dares not do same, right?’ I shook my head in disbelief and continued, ‘You are not even sorry about what you did. You are just sorry you were caught before your real plans materialized.’

Richard reached for my hand but I shook him off. He ran his hand through his head. ‘Look baby, I shouldn’t have said that. That wasn’t what I meant. I know saying I’m sorry is not enough, but I am. I messed up. Real bad. I should have been upfront about my marital status but I didn’t want to lose you. I loved you too much to let you go. You don’t know what that kind of love does to a man…’

I cut him off. I couldn’t stand his lies and his pathetic excuse of an apology. The mere sight of him nauseated me. I felt like spitting on his tall, masculine frame.

‘No, Richard. You don’t owe me an apology. If anyone deserves an apology here, it’s your wife. When you get back to the UK, tell her I said sorry. That’s if you can be man enough to own up to your mistakes. I wouldn’t hold my breath anyway because men like you never take responsibility for anything. You find a way to blame everyone else but yourself. Bye Richard and please stay away from me.’ I opened the door and made to alight.

‘Sweetheart, don’t do this. Let’s talk this through’.

I ignored him and walked briskly to the gate. I opened it, walked in and bolted it firmly. I double checked to be sure it was well closed. Satisfied, I marched into the house.

My mind chose that moment to come alive. He/she/it/whatever ran after me.

‘You are not doing this.’ My mind said.

‘Doing what?’ I asked sarcastically.

‘Shutting me out. Oh you do that so well, don’t you? Something happens and then you tuck it away, pretending it didn’t happen. But not today, you hear? We will talk about Richard.’

I went into the kitchen and started rummaging through cupboards. I slammed a door or two to drown the loud voice of my mind. I wasn’t in the mood to talk and I definitely wasn’t going to talk about Richard. My mind could go to hell for all I cared.

‘I am not going anywhere girl’, my mind taunted. ‘We are going to talk about Richard, whether you like it or not. I am not letting you shut me out.’

‘What do you want me to say?’ I shouted ‘I messed up! I was running around Abuja with a married man! Me! Something I swore I would never do. Imagine that! The one man I actually forgot to ask his marital status ends up being married. The one man I have given myself the chance to actually like in a really long time has a hot Latino wife and two angelic children. Can you beat the irony? I mean, it’s a no brainer. This is Abuja! Practically every man here has a wife or two. The first rule of thumb is to ask the man if he is married. A day-old child knows this. It’s the start off point for any opposite sex conversation in Abuja. I let my emotions becloud my sense of reasoning. So yea, I don’t want to talk about how I messed up with Richard, smarty pants!’

‘Can you hear yourself?’ My mind asked. ‘Did you hear what you just said? You messed up? You used Richard’s own words even. I thought you were smarter than most girls, but you really are not. Listen to me, you didn’t mess up. Richard did. So you didn’t ask his marital status the first time you met him but he withheld that information from you. He was the married one, not you.  Richard messed up. He was the one pursuing a relationship with you while having a family in England. Why are you absolving him of the blame here?’

‘Because I should have known better! I always know better damn it!’ I screamed inside me. I should have known he was married and ended things with him before they started’.

‘You should have known he was married? How would you have known? He wore no rings. He covered his tracks well. Let’s face it girlie, we were dealing with a professional con artiste. There was no freaking way you would have known Richard was married unless you are psychic, which you are not'.

I carried on as though my mind hadn’t said anything.

‘I shouldn’t have carried on with a married man. Do you know how many important family times Richard may have missed because of me? All those times we stayed up chatting. All the times he sought my advice over something. It should have been his wife, not me. I feel terrible’. I dropped onto a small chair in the kitchen and wrapped my hands around myself.

‘Do you know why you feel terrible?’ My mind asked softly. ‘You feel terrible because you are a good person inside your heart,’

I shook my head in disagreement. ‘Good people don’t frolic with married men’.

I felt my mind give me a hard knock. Ouch!

‘You hung out with Richard, you didn’t frolic with him. You met him and you guys connected. What’s wrong with that? The difference between you and Richard and indeed a million other people is this: you respected his marriage. As soon as you found out he was married, you closed that door. I know you were starting to feel strongly for him but you didn’t let that feeling becloud your sense of reasoning, contrary to what you believe. And for that baby girl, I am damn proud of you. Richard and many like him don’t deserve precious gifts like you. You are special and there is someone special out there for you. Come on, don’t beat yourself over this. You didn’t lose anything here…okay, maybe your time and a bit of some emotional investment, which as your mind, I know you hate losing. But still, Richard is not worth beating you beautiful self over. Learn what you can from this and move on’

'The lesson here is never to drool over a smoking hot guy', I said.

'Shhh....speak for yourself', my mind admonished.

In spite of how I felt, I found myself smiling. I loved my mind. He/she/it/whatever could annoy the shit out of me but when push came to shove, I could count on my mind to help restore my mind. 

Did that even make sense? Not that I cared one bit. All I cared about was that I felt better. Knowing Richard was married still hurt. But I didn’t feel as terrible as I did some moments back. I was smart. I was a big girl. And as my mind reminded me, I hadn’t really lost anything. I could get through the betrayal I felt. All it would take was time. Everything always got better in time.

‘Smart girl!’ My mind exchanged high fives with me.

‘What do you say, I take a bath and we go take ice cream’?

‘Ice cream? Aren’t you supposed to be eating healthy? Will you take permission from the group?’

‘What the group doesn’t know won’t hurt it’, I replied with a wink.

‘Hope you know your perfect stranger wasn’t so perfect after all, right?’

‘He wasn’t. At the end of the day, he was really just a stranger. A damn good looking stranger. As for being perfect? Nah, not at all. Like all men, he is flawed. But then again, But who is perfect?’


                                       
                                      THE END

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XoXo
NawtiProf