My mom died when I was eighteen. She was everything to me until she died. I didn’t know my dad because he wasn’t in my life then.

Growing up, I saw how my mother struggled every day and night, trying to put food on the table and trying to pay my school fees. No one came in to help. She did all that through the provision store she was operating. When she died, I went to stay with my grandma and she took over from there.

On the second anniversary of the death of my mother, I took her picture and went to a tattoo parlor to get her face tattooed beneath my left arm. It was the least I could do for a mother who had traveled through thick and thin to bring me up the way she did. I remember my friends trying to talk me out of it. They said, “Everyone will judge you wrongly when they see you with a tattoo. You can’t get a job with a tattoo on your skin.” I brushed their concerns aside and went ahead with it.

After university, I fell in love with a guy who came from an affluent home. When I said yes to his proposal, I didn’t know he was a rich guy. I said yes to him because of the way he treated me from the very first day that we met. He was a kind guy. He would call and stay on the phone with me for a very long time. Before he hangs up, he’ll say, “Is there anything you would like me to do for you?” If I had needs, I would tell him and he’ll provide but mostly I didn’t have anything I wanted him to do for me.

He took me to his parent’s house the very first time and I couldn’t believe the kind of wealth I saw on display that day. I always had an idea of how a mansion should look like but when I entered their house, I upgraded my definition of how a mansion should be like. I asked him, “Your parents live here?” He said, “Yeah when they are in the country, this is where they live. I could only open my eyes and my mouth wide. He said, “My parents are very down to earth. You’ll see them today and you won’t believe they own all these. It’s something I’ve learned from them, to always live life on a low key.”

We had dated for four months and the farthest we had gone was a kiss and a little smooch here and there. One day he took me to his house for a weekend and we moved from A to Z very quickly. We did everything we hadn’t done so far and ever added more twists to the dimensions of our lives. That weekend, my love for him grew larger. Everything he did to me and for me made me feel like I was on top of his priority.

He was in the kitchen with me throughout the day. He didn’t know how to cook but he stayed with me and did some petty things to help me through the work quickly. He was touchy, just the way I like my man to be. He was all over me and I felt very wanted. It was that day that he saw the tattoo of my mom. He asked, “You have a tattoo? Since when?” I told him, “Yeah, that’s the face of my mother. I told you about her. It’s the least I could do to keep her memory alive.”

He pulled me closer, lifted my arm, and look at it critically. He said, “It wasn’t painful?” I said, “It was hell at first but when he kept piercing and inking, I became numb to the pain.” He said, “I’d always wanted to get a tattoo but because of the pain involve, I always shy away from it.” I asked, “What would you want to be drawn on your skin?” He said, “A flying bird.” I asked why a flying bird?” He said, “Because I’m a flying bird. I never settle.” I said, “That’s a very cool symbolism.

We’ve dated for over two years now. I’ve met his father twice and I’d met his mother several times. They are both nice people who always welcome me with huge smiles. Recently, things are changing very fast between us. For close to a year of our relationship, we never fought or even disagreed on anything. But in our second year, we seem to fight a lot and we seem to disagree on everything. We’ve always slept with the light off. Recently he wants the light on all the time. I can’t sleep in an air-conditioned room all night, he knows it so we mostly turn it off at some point and use the fan. Recently, he wants the air-conditioning on all the time.

Petty-petty fights that give me a reason to worry. Some time ago, he asked me, “Why don’t you have a tattoo of me? Is it because you love me less?” I laughed about it and brushed it aside. Another time he said it again but in a different way, “If people you love get themselves tattooed on your skin and I don’t have a tattoo of me on you, is that one too love?” I said, “It’s not people I love. I’ve loved too many but none of them have their faces drawn on me. This is my mother and not people.”

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Another day, he brought the topic again; “I wonder what will make me get a tattoo on you.” I said, “Die first and I will see what I can do.” He got angry. “Why would you wish death upon me? Are you crazy? So, you want me to die before you show me love? What kind of skewed mentality is that?” I said, “You’re being petty. Of all your greatness and smartness, you chose to rival a tattoo of a dead woman. That’s petty.”

So a few weeks ago, he came clear; “Let’s get a tattoo of each other on our arms or anywhere that it would show. I thought it was a joke but he kept hammering it each day until I asked him why he wants that. “He said, “Is it not cool?” I said, “There should be a reason apart from it being cool.” He said, “No reason. It’s just only cool.” I said, “We can’t do something today just because it’s cool. What if it isn’t cool tomorrow?” He concluded, “I knew it. You don’t love me that much.”

He’s done so many things for me to doubt the stability of his mind. Today he wants this, tomorrow he wants something different. I don’t have any issues having a tattoo of him but what if tomorrow we are no longer together? He has it all and may not be affected the way I would be affected that’s why I’m careful but he keeps bothering me. He keeps reminding me each day that I don’t love him enough. Finally, I agreed to do it so he could get off my neck but I’ve been thinking about it too—the future implications and all. Do you think it’s a good idea to succumb to his demands? He wants it at where it would show too, that’s the trouble.

–Zoe

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