Whoever coined that “Till death do us part” sentence didn’t see the big picture. He or she or they felt that death was the ultimate terminator of marital vows.
Who told them that? Dead folks feel no pain. They’re to be envied because they’re free of life’s shackles and heat. To stay alive while walking around emotionally dead is worse than mortality.
He climbed out of the bath tub. It was 5:45 in the morning. He was late because the traffic was already building up on the road. Dogo, his boss, will sink his caustic tongue in his mind once more. Four years of being married to Ireti had carved an impenetrable armour for his mind. He was numb to Dogo’s fire-words.
Ireti was still sleeping on the bed. Last night was one of those many nights. The call from Grace, his marketing partner at the company, had triggered the spat.
They had always been on different pages – either at the last or at the beginning or in the middle – since they got married. It was even good to be on different pages in the same book because at some points there could be a possible convergence. Theirs was that they were on different pages in different books. Always. Marriage could be as boring as watching a snail climb over a barbed fence. Her constant nags could firmly entrench migraine headaches in one.
“Why must she always call you?”
“I’ve always told you not to receive calls from women after 9 p.m. They should call you in the office, not at home. By the way, how many female contacts are on your phone. Give it to me let me see. If you like save them as GClef or Dotypal or Greecie, I will sniff them out. One day I will call all these funny funny names. In fact, I want to know all your female friends.”
“Who did you hug today. Why did you hug them sef?”
“Hmmm, after now, you’ll say I didn’t warn you. See as you were exposing your 32 in that picture, just because you were holding a woman. See as her breasts were touching you, doing you totori. Are mine not big enough for you?”
This was living hell. He didn’t envisage this four years ago.
In her rage she hadn’t noticed him removing his important personal effects over the past few days. She could sleep like a lion after a successful hunt, even after a heated argument. He often wondered how she could do that, but he was happy that it aided his manoeuvre.
Tonight was the night. Tonight was the night that another type of death was to unlink the bondage of their hearts, of their misery, the charade called marriage. He was thankful she was on night call today. He prayed that the clinic wouldn’t change the roster.
He took one last look at her body and reached for his tie.
Written by Emeka Nobis.