It is baffling – very shocking – how day turns to night within the blink of an eye. How white fades to dirty carbon black. How a once blossoming rose withers, grayish, colourless even. How joy drifts to sorrows. How a happy face folds to a pale one. How a blissful moment turns cold. How ecstasy changes to disgust.
Was it not last week? I was in his arms while we watched the moon in its cosmic display, laying on the dew-wet field-level grass of the Mayfair Resort Center.
It was our wedding anniversary. His heavy muscled left arm cupped around me as his right palm formed a pillow for his head. My head rested on his broad chest covered by the black slim fit polo, designed just for us. We used it for our pre wedding photos.
I wasn’t wearing mine – it lost shape after being over used. Rather, I wore the red dress he bought for me last week. It was ordered from Jumia, though I kicked against these online shops because I don’t think they sell good stuffs. Actually, my aversion for online business deals was ignited after I tried buying airtime from First Bank via my mobile and loaded #10,000 naira instead of #1,000.
“It’s ok, you’ll get through this.” Davis consoled me after my loads of curses on the instinct that pushed me to subscribe to this online top up scheme. “We will share the loss 50-50. I’ll transfer 5k to you later.” He said to pacify the pain. “But we’ll share the airtime too, so pass me your phone.” He added humorously, unable to hide the sarcasm in his voice.
I wish I knew it was our last time as a joyful couple. I wish I was told by an angel, or a fairy – or even a witch.
His eyes – clearly visible even under the dim brightness of the night – were layered with tiny teeny films of tears that made them glow. When I asked, he chuckled and tears rolled simultaneously from both eyes.
“I can’t still believe you are mine, and I am yours. Not even after these two years together. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me ima’mi (My love).” He said and tightened his grip. Via the angel of my eyes, I could see him close his eyes in content as he heaved a euphoric sigh of relieve.
I looked into his eyes, deep, like I was digging through with an edge-sharpened spade. I was admiring my husband. He looked like a new person to me, I bushed. I felt this chill things running a relay race in my whole system – goose bumps. After seconds that felt like ions, I nudged and kissed him, or he kissed me – we kissed. But my eyes was opened – we always closed our eyes when we kissed.
I raised my head and his eyes were still closed. A faint line broke on his face, extending from his lower nose, tracing its way down his jaw. Low, it graduated into a smile, a puerile smile.
I looked down upon him and he was like a wounded lamb, a sorry flower, a little lad. I felt my heart melt, my bones made way, goose bumps soaked me. I pressed my lips on his again, and still with closed eyes he welcomed mine with an open mouth that it sank into his.
I was about to open my ‘door’ when this cold breeze rained its hands over me, like someone removing the blanket that covered me. Not until then did I remember that we were on the lawn of Mayfair resort and lounge where we’d lodged to spend our anniversary together.