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I met Yaa through a very good friend of mine. Tony. They were friends long before I came into the picture. The day I saw Yaa with Tony, I asked him, “Where’s this one too coming from?” Your new catch that?” He responded, “Who? Yaa? Oh naaa. She’s just a friend. We’ve been friends since SHS.” I told him, “She’s pretty. Does she have a boyfriend?” He laughed. He told me, “Bro, if you want a girl, you don’t ask that question. You go straight and pitch camp next to her until she tells you herself that she has a boyfriend. If you like her, I can put in a word for you. She’s a good girl.” 

Tony was that kind of guy who goes after everything in a skirt. I knew that. Our circle of friends knew that. He himself knew it and sang his own praises. Listening to him preach about how to get a girl felt like I was in a masterclass where the master of the industry is giving lectures. I told him to go ahead and put in words for me. I asked Tony, “Are you sure I stand a chance?” He answered, “We’ll only know after I’ve told her that you like her. You can’t measure the depth of water just by looking at its surface. Let’s dip in before we can judge.”

So we hatched a plan. It was a simple one. Tony would arrange to meet her and I will come around while they are there talking. Tony would then introduce me to her as his good friend then we take the conversation from there. We would meet about three times. On the third time, Tony would excuse us so I would have the opportunity to talk to her alone. That would be the point I tell her what was on my mind. 

It was an afternoon. The location was right at the front door of Yaa’s house. I saw them from afar as planned. I screamed Tony’s name from afar and he called me to come. When I got there, I greeted and shook Yaa’s hand. My hand was in her hand when Tony said, “This is my friend Caleb. He has been worrying me every day because of you. He says he dey feel you rough. You’ve been giving him sleepless nights so today I asked him to meet me here so we talk to you about it.” I pulled my hand from her hand immediately. I looked at Tony’s face with visible disappointment. Like, “Why would you say that, Tony? Is that the plan? Why are you going off-script.” 

But Yaa smiled to make everything easier. She said, “Caleb, right?” I nodded my head. She continued, “This is my house. Look for me whenever you can. We’ll talk.” I started acting strong. I told her, “That’s great. No more sleepless night now that I know where I can find you.” We talked for some minutes and departed. On the way going Tony said, “You see? I’ve made it easier. Now it’s your turn to spit venom. Don’t joke ooo. The girl dey feel you dada.” But I was disappointed. I accused him of going off-script for a purpose. “You wanted to embarrass me, I know. Thank God it turned out right.”

I met Yaa often at the blind side of Tony. We talked about the probability of dating. She gave me good signals. There were doubts in her words but I was determined to make her mine so I looked over the doubt. Weeks later she said yes and we swung into full dating mode. We dated for four good years until we decided to get married. Tony was so shocked we could get to that level. He kept asking if I was being pressurized from somewhere. I said, “The time is right to do this and she’s the only one I could think of. No pressure. Just love.”

We got married.

A year or so later, one of our key friends also got married and I attended the wedding with Yaa. She was pregnant and it showed. When the wedding was over, she told me she couldn’t sit at the reception so she was leaving. I was sitting with Tony and three other friends when Yaa told me she was leaving. The guys were all looking at her. One of the paddies said, “Look at what you’ve done to her. Something that we were all ‘sharing’ small…small, you carried it away and made her pregnant. I saw Tony pulling the back of that friend’s shirt trying to stop him from talking. He was drunk and was clearly off-grid so he kept talking, “Oh allow me to say it. Is it not the truth?”

I looked at their faces. Each one of them. They couldn’t look back into my eyes. Tony said, “Don’t mind him, he’s drunk and speaking nonsense.” But I knew better. I knew also that drunk people don’t lie. I went home that day and started messing my marriage around. I asked her and she repeatedly told me it was a lie. 

“Did you ever sleep with Tony?” 

“No, I never did. Tony was just a friend. You can ask him.”

“How about Albert? Did you?”

“Albert and Tony are friends, How could I sleep with both of them?”

So I withdrew from those friends and vowed never to get closer to them again. I didn’t trust them and I didn’t trust my wife. If she did sleep with them, then when? Where? How? Was it before we started dating or after? I didn’t care that she was pregnant. I kept pestering her to give me the truth until she asked me, “What are you going to do with it? If you won’t accept my explanation, then what more would you accept? That I slept with them? That I was an area girl who was so cheap that I fell in the web of friends who used me anyhow? Is that what you want to hear? Then it’s true. But it’s not all of them. Only Tony. It happened before we started dating. It happened once or twice, I’ve forgotten, while we were dating. That’s the whole truth. 

I wanted the truth thinking it would set me free but it broke me into pieces. I felt lied to. I felt cheated on. How did I end up with Tony’s ex? Tony? Who went after anything in a skirt? Without emotions? Without commitment?” I went ahead to call her names. Filthy insults here and there. She cried. She said sorry but that didn’t appease me. She was pregnant but the anger in me didn’t consider that. I kept treating her badly. I slept on the bed. I didn’t allow her to sleep by my side. She could sleep in the hall or kitchen, I didn’t care. 

Nothing seemed enough. No punishment I gave her felt enough. So I started cheating too. Just to pay her back. I didn’t hide it. I wanted her to see it and feel it too. She would be there and I would be talking to the girl deep into the night. Sometimes I would intentionally put it on a loudspeaker for her to hear the voice and know I was talking to a girl. Surprisingly, she didn’t fight me. She didn’t ask questions. That even got me infuriated. It was like fighting someone who isn’t fighting you. She watched as I went out and came back when I wanted to. I felt it was because of her pregnancy but I didn’t stop. We lived in the house like rivals until she gave birth.

I went to the hospital on day one when she delivered. I went there again on day three and I was told she had been discharged. “Discharged? So why is she not in the house?” I called her line, “She said, “I came to my parent’s house. They’ll help take care of me better than I would be in the house.” 

It was normal. Women do that so I didn’t fight it until seven months later. I realized she had overstayed. I called to ask her when she would be coming and she said, “I’m not coming back. The next time you see me, I would be coming for the rest of my things.” So calm. So cold. So casual. I asked, “What do you mean?” She answered, “It’s over. I’m getting a divorce. I’ve already started.” 

Maybe if I stayed calm and tried to reason with her, she might have reconsidered her decision. Or if I apologized for my behavior and promised not to do it again, she might have reconsidered but the man in me felt she was just threatening me with a divorce so I went full blast on her, “You think I’m scared? I should have been the one to divorce you. You think you’ll threaten me so I run to you and beg? Tony’s reject like you?” She didn’t fight back. She just cut the line and left me feeling like a barking dog.

True to her words she initiated it. The family came together trying to resolve the issue. I gave them my side she gave them her side. My family bashed me that day, putting all the blame on me for how things had escalated. I accepted my mistake and they made me apologize. She stood there like a stone. Unmoved. Unperturbed. She said, ”I’m not going back. I don’t want to be reminded of my whore life. I’m a mother now. I can’t sit and watch my children listen to the playback of my whoring days. That’s why I don’t want to go back. I’m fine. I’m not fighting him. We have a child together. If he’s reasonable, we’ll put our strength together and raise the child. It’s all up to him but Marriage? Not for me.”

That’s how the marriage ended. We were a little over two years. I wasn’t hurt when it was finally over. To me, it was a statement of intent that I won’t take leftovers from anyone. My friend heard it and they called me strong. I thought it was over. All my life, I never knew one can move from healing to a hurting position. Each day without her felt like something was missing. I slept alone sometimes and cried. I will pick up the phone and call her. I will ask how the baby was doing. I will ask why I don’t hear the baby crying. I would ask if the baby likes breast milk better or prefers tin food. Just silly empty questions just to hear her voice. I used the child as an excuse to visit her often. Talk to her so she’ll know I’m now a changed person. She would talk to me normally as if nothing was wrong. As if we were still married. 

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Our divorce had been over a year. But I haven’t healed. I hurt each time I see her. The vacuum becomes larger whenever I’m around her and our kid. It’s not easy for me so I decided to make a move to bring us back again and start from a place of strength. I went to her and apologized. Face to face I looked into her eyes and said everything I should have said two years ago when we were fighting. She was just smiling. She said, “Ahh, how do we come back after everything we’ve been through? It’s not possible. I’m even talking to someone already. We are getting stronger. I can’t allow us to be together. A few weeks from now, you won’t have to come here again. If you want to see your child, just call and I will meet you halfway. Don’t complicate things.”  

“…I’m even talking to someone already…” 

The wound that statement caused is not healing. Always fresh and bleeding. But I know it’s not lost. I don’t want to give up. I want to try harder. That’s why I’m here today. I want to ask, what should I do to have a chance with her again? Sometimes I feel it’s not possible, looking at everything that I did and say but sometimes I have hope that if I give her the right reason and present a saintly posture and a repented heart, she would give us another chance but how do I do it when she doesn’t even want to see my face? 

–Caleb                

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