“Chasing Shadows🏙️…”

Sit back and enjoy this short story!❤️

  Enugu State,

   2018

      You are seated on the edge of Francis’ bed, transfixed. Even with the noise of clanging bottles of palm wine and tunes of Osendi Owendi playing in the background, you still stay rooted to that bed. A part of your brain keeps warning you “Binyelum, get up. Ku nie!”, but you just cannot. 

    The plastic stick in your hand has turned you to steel. It has made you feel as heavy as the earthen pot in grandpa’s old hut at Nsukka, the one you and the-person-who-must-not-be-named played with as kids. Your entire body is numb and your brain sends signals that you are on the brink of a panic attack.

     No. No. No. No. This can’t be happening!.         

   Your breaths are coming faster. The corset that the tailor forcefully added to your dress is biting your skin, making it harder to even breathe. Looking at that tiny stick, you think about 5 years of ruthless kisses and countless promises that made you cave in; 5 years of pretty lies wrapped up in gifts and fake smiles. Then, you raise your shaky fingers and bring the stick to your face. The two red lines still stare right back at you angrily, as if to say: “Duh. Still here!”.

    And just like that, everything shifts. Because you are pregnant. 

  “Something usually happens, doesn’t it?”, 

Your hysterical mind asks after several seconds of silence.

   The planet should be tumbling down. An earthquake should be happening. But all you can  see after your brain comes to that understanding is…nothing. Deafening, shattering silence. As though your entire world didn’t just take a dive. As though 200 guests weren’t right outside waiting for you to walk down the aisle.

  For the first time in 2 years, Binyelum, you do it. You close your eyes and say a prayer to your Chi; to any Being willing to listen. And just when faith seems to die a quick death on your lips, the door jerks open.

     In a trance, you slowly look up; and your heart slams hard in your chest. Because your Chi has manifested into the-person-who-must-not-be-named.

                                                                     ****

    His name is Iheanacho, and he must not be named because you gave him a special  nickname that still sticks to your tongue like sour udala fruit after being uprooted for too long.

         Nacho—that was the name you called him the first day Papa brought him home as the new Igba Boy. You still remember that day. You and Mama had been busy arranging and fussing over which clothes would suit which suitcases. After all, Mama only wanted the best for your family’s relocation to Lagos.

      When Papa knocked furiously on the door and ushered in his new apprentice, your eyes scanned his 13 year old thin body from head to toe. When your eyes finally jammed the boy’s own, something just clicked. There was a connection. It was as though you knew each other from a past life and now, you had finally met again. So, when Papa said, “this is our new boy. Iheanacho”, it was only natural when the first thing that spilled from your lips was “Nacho”.

          Oh, the things you did with Nacho. 

You weren’t so young when you eventually realized that life was not a fair deal. 

      At age 14, you realized Nacho worshiped the ground you walked on. At age 16, you realized you liked him too much to care for anything else. You both should have known better; but you didn’t care when you snuck out during Nacho’s break at Papa’s Spare parts stall or during your school break to do ‘grown-up stuff’ together. You didn’t care because, deep down, you never considered letting him go.

       But in the very end, it was never your decision, but Destiny’s.

     One Saturday evening, Papa accidentally caught you both touching each other ‘inappropriately’ at the boy’s quarters. Right then and there, you knew it was finished.

 Papa flogged Nacho to the brink of near death amidst your loud screams to “let him go!” and Mama’s exaggerations of “this girl has finished me!”. 

    After that horrible day that still lays etched in your brain, you never saw Nacho again. Two months of isolation later, you got shipped to Canada for schooling and right there, you met Francis.

    Sometimes, you think of your life in two stages: Pre-  and Post-Francis. 

    What if you’d never met his pale, handsome face at that campus party?. What if you hadn’t been captivated by his killer Nigerian smile and deep, baritone accent?. If you’d never exchanged numbers that night, would you be right there on that bed with his ring around your finger 5 years later?. Would you also have forgotten about the encounter and carried on with your life?.  You will never answer the ‘what-if’ questions because they will never happen. 

      What did happen was the way his existence changed your everyday life till you no longer recognized yourself. What did happen was how you slowly withdrew from yourself and became a new person. And it happened in little ways.

         It began with his endless suggestions of moving back to Nigeria.

  You wondered why, but never questioned it, because you missed your parents anyways. You’d just awoken a beast, and you didn’t even know it. Your mind had still been timid. But things only grew worse. 

      Following his insistence came the controlling masculinity and the continuous outbursts. 

   His rants of  “A rich man’s woman can’t just work anywhere!.Why are you even stressing yourself?. Is it money you need?. I’ll take care of you!” transformed to loud smacks on the cheeks for yelling back at him. His yelling transformed to constant pestering of your skin tone, your style of dressing and every minute detail of you until slowly, all your walls came crumbling.

          However, his abuse always ended up in heartfelt apologies and mad love-making afterwards . So, you always let it all go. Besides, no relationship was perfect. Your man was just overly protective of you.

    Then finally, you actually said ‘NO’. He’d been on his knees with a ring worth millions; but just when he said those magical 4 words, something in your brain skyrocketed.

   For the first time in years, you said NO. It had felt…utterly liberating. 

     Unfortunately, the very next minute, your bliss turned to terrifying, gut-wrenching screams as the man you claimed you loved held you down and tore your already battered body into iridescent, scattered ashes.

                                ***

        For the first time since you’d last seen him in 2 years, Nacho is staring at you and you suddenly don’t know what to say. Your once-steady lips have grown mute.

  How do you tell him that you have been miserable for so long without his warmth, his vibrant color and his passion around you?. Just when you had finally found a little opening for freedom to come in with the wind, Francis zapped it away from you and now, you are stuck with his dent for the rest of your life.

     You want to tell him all of this, but for several moments, you both stare at each other, stuck in that bittersweet bubble of mutual communication.       

   His eyes ask "Are you fine?”

  Yours answer “I will never be again”.

         And then, just as you expected, it happens.

   Nacho’s eyes scroll down to the stick in your hand; then, he freezes. 

  Completely. Utterly.  You are not even sure he’s still breathing.

   You close your eyes as the hot tears stream down your cheeks like a volcano about to erupt.

   With a shaky voice, you call out to him “N—Nacho. I can explain. Please…Nacho, please. He–help me”

     His eyes shoot back up to yours in shock. This is the first time you have ever asked him for anything. And he knows.

     Silence ensues. The only sound heard is the happy highlife music emanating from the easy banter of the guests at the backyard.

    Your head is spinning in anxiety. Dizziness has made the panic attack rear its ugly head again. 

Say something!, you silently pray with all your might.

   Finally, Nacho opens his mouth and utters just one word 

           “Binyelum”

         Stay with me.

You become speechless as you watch him gently hold out his strong, slender palm to you.

That palm…that palm that held yours through thick and thin and everything else in between; that palm that served you and everyone around him with the bravest heart and the kindest soul. Yes. That palm.

      In awe, it takes you only 2 seconds to process his calling out your name.

Within the next one, your palm grips his outstretched one like a lifeguard, a safety net. Your teary eyes look up at his determined face. 

    And you know, in that very moment, that there is no one who has ever loved you more.

   He pulls you to your feet, drags the stick laying limply in your other palm and rushes out the door.

       All the while, you stay completely 

glued to him.