WALKING ON WATERS CHAPTER 7

 

 

CHAPTER 7

The leather steering wheel, cool and unforgiving, pressed into my palms despite the absence of sweat. My thumbs stabbed repeatedly at the unresponsive remote, each impotent click echoing in the car's suffocating silence. It was a feeble attempt to silence the relentless loop playing in my head: Aunt Ibiyemi's voice, dripping with malice, replayed her accusations. "Riverine area girls," she'd sneered, "hardly any good comes from there. Ogbanje, wami mata, water child – all Yele's fault for his stubbornness!" Trapped, I jabbed at the buttons again, a futile effort to quiet the storm within and the one raging outside.

Had I been so blind? The realization hits me like a tidal wave, crashing over the fragile foundations of my understanding. Aunt Ibiyemi's disdain for me, her thinly veiled hostility, it was never about the absence of a child in our marriage. No, it ran much deeper, rooted in something far more insidious.

As the gate groans open in reluctant submission, my mind races back to the conversation that unfolded with chilling clarity. The words, like poisoned arrows, still pierce my heart with their venomous intent.

Yele had shielded me from the harsh reality of his Aunt's hostility, his love a comforting veil that obscures the truth. I had always brushed off Aunt Ibiyemi's behavior as merely strict, attributing it to the typical demeanor of African aunties. It wasn't until today, in the wake of her revelations, that I could no longer deny the depths of her animosity

She never wanted me. From the moment Yele chose me as his bride, I was an unwelcome intruder in her carefully constructed world for her nephew. Her disdain for my riverine heritage, hidden behind a facade of familial duty, now stands exposed in all its ugliness.

And the bitter irony of it all? The cruel twist of fate that mocks our union? The absence of a child, our indecisiveness to conceive, only serves to amplify Aunt Ibiyemi's scorn, to validate her belief that I am unworthy of her nephew's love.

As the car inches forward, the weight of Aunt Ibiyemi's words still heavy in the air, I am left to grapple with the harsh truth of our reality. In a society where motherhood is revered above all else, the absence of a child in the marriage is not just a personal tragedy, but a glaring indictment of my worth as a woman.

In the silence that follows, broken only by the hum of the engine, a million questions churn in my mind, unspoken and raw. I can't help but wonder: how do I move forward from here? How do I navigate a future tainted by Aunt Ibiyemi's prejudice? How can I muster the courage to confront the truth, to tear away the veil Yele has woven to protect me all this while against the harsh reality of what Aunt Ibiyemi truly thinks of me, especially regarding his decision about having a child? These questions gnaw at my mind as I bite on my nails, brows furrowed, still seated behind the wheel.

The question of having a child, is a gaping hole in our dreams, in our lives,a jigsaw puzzle that can only be solved by Yele ,I thought as I pursed my lips, my mind drifting back to the con prophet words

“even a hundred years of her union with your nephew won't yield a single child.” If not for anything,Yele and I must prove to that half baked prophet how his words are spread of lies,how I do not belong to any occultism,demonic group He manufactured in his head ,am nothing but a fruitful woman in all aspects,even in childbearing,I thought exhaling loudly,as if I was making my point clear to an invisible mockery audience.

As I glanced up and spotted Yele's car nestled in the compound, a wave of bitterness washed over me. His return from the men's fellowship, a routine he'd adopted in recent weeks, signaled his presence. But instead of relief or anticipation, bile rose in my throat at the sight of the sleek gray Porsche Cayenne. It was as if the car embodied Yele himself, and if my fury could manifest, it would consume the vehicle in an instant.

My anger towards Yele simmered on multiple fronts. The primary source was his guardedness about his aunt's main motive for her dislike of me, which fueled my disdain. Then there was his stubbornness regarding our family plans, his inability to see the importance of starting a family at this period of our lives. And intertwined with it all was his penchant for indulging in luxuries,Yele's already affluent status provided us with a life of luxury. 

Yet, paradoxically, this very abundance sometimes left me feeling like a mere accessory to his wealth.The parade of flashy cars, the endless stream of material possessions—it all seemed to paint me as a doll in a plastic world, where appearances trumped substance.

Yes, I enjoyed the comforts he provided, the lavish gifts like the brown Hermes Birkin bag displayed on the car seat beside me. But in this moment, surrounded by opulence, I found myself loathing it all. The very things I once cherished now felt suffocating, creating a sense of discontent.

Feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty, I exited the car with a deliberate gentleness, the door creaking open in sync with the weight of my thoughts. My handbag, a familiar weight on my hand, offered a semblance of stability amidst the tumultuous currents of my mind. With each step towards the house, my head remained bowed, lost in a labyrinth of contemplation and recollection. The events of the bizarre day replayed like a relentless loop, leaving me grappling with questions of where to direct my energies and how this tangled web would ultimately unravel.

                     YELE POV

My fingers danced across the screen of my phone as a soft beep reverberated in the air, shattering the silence of the room. I glanced up, drawn by the familiar sound emanating from the code access door. Its mechanical melody echoed through the quiet space, signaling Yadah's return. With a gentle whirr, the door swung open, framing her silhouette against the subdued glow of the hallway. In that fleeting moment, anticipation intertwined with the comfort of her presence, setting the tone for the moments that lay ahead.

"Hello, Babe, welcome," I said, rising from my seat and extending my arms as she approached from behind the couch. 

"How was your day?" I asked, peering into her eyes. They lacked their usual sparkle, the vibrant glow replaced by a tranquil calmness, like the serene surface of a placid lake at dusk. 

"She must be tired from her outing," I surmised silently, noting the subtle shift in her demeanor. 

"Fine," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she quickly pulled away from my embrace. Her swift, uneasy retreat felt like water slipping through my fingers, an unfamiliar and unsettling demeanor.

My eyes traced her every movement as she settled onto the couch, each subtle shift resonating in the silent room. From the muted thud of her bag meeting the floor to the gentle whisper of fabric as she adjusted her posture, every action seemed magnified. Her movements were deliberate, laden with an unseen burden, her fingers hesitating on the strap of her bag before releasing it. Questions swirled in my mind: Was it the congestion of traffic that weighed her down? Or perhaps an uncomfortable encounter with her long-lost friend? What mysteries unfolded during her absence? With discretion, I observed her as she unclasped her sandals, each motion deliberate yet devoid of its usual vigor. My gaze lingered, absorbing the subtleties of her demeanor, a silent conversation echoing between us.

"I hope you had a great time catching up with your long-time friend. Was it enjoyable reconnecting after so long?" I asked, easing onto the couch beside her. I could feel the uncertainty gnawing at me as I rephrased the question, hoping it would draw her out. 

My mind raced, trying to be the supportive husband she needed. I forced a sheepish smile, my eyes conveying a silent plea for her to open up.

God, to be a husband is no easy task. Being a caring and present husband is even harder. 

Inching closer, I brushed my hand against hers, hoping to create a safe haven around her. Gently, I touched her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Tilting my head slightly, I offered a warm, open expression that said, "Talk to me, baby," without uttering a word and my entire being spoke volumes:”I'm here listening”

 My touch lingered, an unspoken invitation to share whatever was weighing on her mind.

"I just told you, the outing was okay," she said, her voice flat. Her right thumb and index finger traced the golden bangle on her left wrist, her eyes fixated on the delicate jewelry, avoiding my gaze.

“Okay” A defeated sigh escaped my lips. My head pivoted like a spotlight shifting beams, darting away from her. My fingers instinctively reached up to rub the back of my neck, massaging a knot of tension that mirrored the one tightening in my gut. The brilliance of my earlier plan to pry more information out of her fizzled in my mind, replaced by the dull ache of realization.

"Anyway, my day went well," I began, eager to share the positive experiences. "I had fun and learned a lot at..."

"Yele, could we talk about your day at the Bromance gathering later?" she interjected as she rose from the couch, effectively shutting down my attempt to lighten the mood. My efforts to create a brighter atmosphere seemed to dissipate like smoke.

"I should go get dinner ready. It's almost time," she said, tapping her wrist with her finger to indicate the time.

"Okay," I replied, pursing my lips slightly as she picked up her handbag and sandals, making her way upstairs to change, I assumed.

                         YADAH'S POV

                          ______________

The bedroom door slammed against the wall with a bang. My bag hit the bed with a thud, the contents erupting in a chaotic sprawl. My breaths came in ragged gasps, each one sharp and shallow. My hands shook so violently I could barely keep them fisted.

"Arghhhhh," The guttural roar ripped from my throat, a primal sound that echoed in the confines of the bedroom. My fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms, leaving crescent moon indents.

 Yele’s carefree happy attitude echoed in my mind, a grating reminder of his blissful ignorance and I envisioned his face crumpling if only I had unleashed the torment his aunt had inflicted on me. My heart raced with the urge to abandon this charade of the virtuous wife and daughter-in-law, my sanity teetering on the edge under the crushing weight of Aunt's expectations, Yele's desires, and my own unspoken longings.

My fingers pressed into my temples, applying deep pressure in a futile attempt to quell the throbbing ache that radiated from behind my eyes. Each pulse sent a wave of nausea washing over me. Echoes of past conversations filled with concern about Yele and me having children crowded my thoughts, swirling around and adding to the ache.

 "So, when are you and your heartthrob planning to start giving me my godchildren?”Oyinkan's voice, laced with pointed cheer, echoed in my head. The question, a persistent itch I couldn't scratch, had burrowed into my mind.Her eager question had surfaced soon after my second marriage anniversary.

"I just added you to the Hannah Prayer Group meeting on WhatsApp," Mrs. Onuorah's voice echoed, drowning out Oyinkan's, each word heavy with concern. 

"They pray every Wednesday evening, fervently asking God to grant them children of their own. I believe it's something you'll appreciate later because this year, you will carry your own Samuel.”

The old deaconess, always watchful and presumptive, had made it her mission to inquire if I had taken in every time she laid eyes on me. To her, attending church after four, almost five years of marriage without a noticeable pregnancy bump was a cause for concern.Her determination to put the devil to shame led her to add me to the enigmatic Hannah Prayer Group. Was I really part of Hannah's group now?

"You girls need to be careful about how you use that word, 'God when ?,'" That was Mr Odewale declaring, his voice overshadowing Mrs Onuorah echoed words in my mind as his gaze settled on two female colleagues while he held his coffee cup aloft like a scepter.

"What word, Mr. Odewale?"The woman on his right tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes,as she leaned in.

"That 'God when?’ you use whenever Yadah shows off a new car," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that traveled surprisingly well. "Always top of the line, never a child in the backseat. Doesn't that set off any alarm bells?"

"What are you implying?" The other woman frowned. 

"Use your head! No children, yet a string of expensive cars? That screams 'money ritual' to me. Sacrificed to the dark arts for wealth, perhaps?" Mr. Odewale scoffed.

"Don't be ridiculous," the woman on his left countered, shaking her head. "Yadah and her husband are devoted Christians. They wouldn't do anything like that. Maybe they're having trouble conceiving."

Mr. Odewale snorted. "Christians? Don't make me laugh! Haven't you heard the stories from our line of work? Pious facades hiding all sorts of wickedness. And that house they built, those cars… young people like them don't acquire that kind of wealth honestly. Only juju can explain it!"

Their words pierced through the thin barrier of the door, each syllable a jab at the pit of my stomach. Even as I stood in my bedroom, changing into a casual shirt, it felt as if I were in the tea room with them, hearing their gossip about my fertility. Though I had been eavesdropping, the sting of their conversation was all too real.

Has Yele and I's decision to delay starting a family really driven people to such bizarre conclusions? Their voices echo in my mind—speculations about being godparents, joining the Hannah Prayer Group, even whispers of money rituals. Each theory, more outlandish than the last, as if the absence of a child in my marriage is a mystery they must solve. It's even baffling to recall the bizarre narratives others had constructed.

“even a hundred years of her union with your nephew won't yield a single child.” The words echoed in my head, a malicious loop replaying that baal's prophet pronouncement. Fury coiled in my gut, tightening with each repetition. I slammed the wardrobe door, the wood protesting with a resounding thud that seemed to echo my own outrage. Ignoring the throbbing in my hand, I squared my shoulders, my gaze hardening with resolve. Time to shut down this idiocy. I marched out of the room, determined to refute the bizarre insinuations.

____________________________________________

"Sorry about the beef. I found out too late that we were out of frozen chicken," I muttered, handing him a plate of white rice topped with pepper sauce and a chunk of beef. He sat at the dining table, looking up as I took my seat.

"No worries," he mumbled, shoveling rice into his mouth. My own plate of rice remained untouched. With a sigh, I pushed a single grain of rice around my plate, I stole a glance at Yele, his shoveling of rice the only sound emitting from him. 

Steeling myself, I took a deep breath and lifted my head.

"Yele," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

He grunted in response, finally tearing his gaze from his plate. I saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"I... I have something I'd like to talk about," I stammered, placing my fork down on my napkin.

Yele set down his own fork, a crease appearing between his brows. Leaning back in his chair, he took a long drink from his glass, his eyes fixed on me. 

"Sure," he said finally, placing the glass down with a soft clink. "Go on."

"Alright, Yele," I began, forcing the words out. "First things first, I owe you a huge apology for acting so weird tonight. To be honest, I had a really messed up day that just got to me."

Yele's hand reached across the table, his fingers brushing against mine. "I figured, babe," he said gently.

 "That's why I was trying to see what was wrong. You know I'm always here for you, right? Like you always say, I’m your guy. So, you up for talking about it now?" His voice was warm and inviting, and I felt a sliver of hope pierce through the knot of tension in my chest.

Taking a deep breath, I met Yele's gaze. As I spoke, I tucked a stray tendril of hair from my braid behind my ear. "Actually," I uttered, my voice soft but firm, "I think what I'm about to say is probably more important than how my day went."

“Okay,if you say so, shoot,” Yele uttered, squeezing my hand gently, his eyes searching mine with concern.

"I have decided…” I paused, my mind racing to find the right words. I didn’t want to sound harsh, but I needed Yele to understand how important this was to me.

“I think I want..." My voice trailed off.

"No, scratch that," I muttered, my hand clenching into fist in my lap.

"I have decided I want a baby," I uttered firmly, not breaking eye contact with Yele as I waited for his reaction.

Yele's hand recoiled from mine as if struck.

 "A baby? Like, a baby?" His voice shot up an octave, disbelief etched on his face.

"Yes!" I blurted, urgency lacing my tone. "A baby! I want a baby. I want us to build a family, with children. I'm ready to be a mom, to have our child, and maybe even..." My voice trailed off as I saw a wave of confusion wash over Yele's features.

He held up a hand, the wedding band on it glinting in the lamplight.

 "Hold on a second," he said, his voice low. 

"Why the sudden switch? What sparked this baby talk?"

 "Nothing," I mumbled, averting my eyes. The rice on my plate seemed to mock me with its coldness. 

 "I... I just," I stammered, my breath catching in your throat. 

"I want to be a mom. It just feels like... like it's time, you know? Time for us to start a family. I feel ready." The words rushed out, tumbling over each other in a haste. I wasn't sure if I was giving valid reasons, but I needed him to understand.

Yele's gaze held a mixture of surprise and something else I couldn't decipher. 

"But what about everything we've already talked about?" he finally asked, his voice tight. "What if I'm not ready for this?"

I reached across the table, my hand hovering over his.

 "Yele, honestly," I uttered, searching for the right words, "I don't see how our plans can't include this. We can still do everything we talked about, just... with a little more noise and laughter." A small smile tugged at my lips.

"I just want to be a mother, Yele," I pleaded, my voice soft but your grip firm. 

"Don't you ever want that too?” My hand met his, intertwining his fingers. 

“Hmm” A heavy sigh escaped Yele's lips. 

"I'm not ready, Yadah," he said, his voice laced with trepidation. He gently untangled his fingers from mine.

Disappointment crashed over me, a lead weight settling in my stomach. I forced a smile, the corners of my lips not quite reaching my eyes.

 "Great," I muttered, sarcasm dripping from my tone.

 "So, when exactly is your 'ready' time? One month? Two? Five?"

Yele's brow furrowed slightly, oblivious to the sting in my voice. "Honestly, I don't know, Yadah," he admitted. "But definitely not this year."

The air hung heavy between us. "Alright, fine," I finally said, forcing a smile that felt brittle around the edges. "But listen, could you do me a favor?”

Yele raised an eyebrow, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside me. "What's that?" he asked evenly.

"Would you mind telling everyone—our families and friends—about this decision of ours? No, I mean this decision of yours?" I said, my voice tight with controlled anger. "Let's be honest, it's not really a 'we' thing anymore, is it?" The last part came out laced with sarcasm, the smile finally dropping from my face.

Yele's brow furrowed in confusion. "Hold on," he said gently. "What are you getting at? Our decisions have always been personal, right? Why are we mentioning family and friends now?" He shifted in his chair, his gaze lingering on your air quotes. "And what's that about 'my decisions’?... He trailed off, searching my face. "Isn't this something we had talked through together?"

"We might have discussed it before," I said, my voice tight but even, "but right now, this decision isn't something I'm on board with any longer." Yele flinched slightly, but I pressed on. "If it's that important to you, then you should probably let everyone know yourself. Maybe then they would stop pestering me for babies.”

 Taking a deep breath, I pushed back from the table, the untouched foodp⁰ a silent testament to my lost appetite. "I think I'm done here," I said quietly as I stood up, my chair scraping against the floor. The weight of the conversation, the uneaten meal, and my shattered hope settled heavily in my stomach. I turned to walk away, but Yele's hand caught mine, halting my steps.

"What?" I asked, my eyes fixed on his hand holding mine.

"I just..." He hesitated, his eyes searching my face. "I just want to understand. What happened tonight? The change, the frustration... it all came out of nowhere. We were happy this morning, and now..." His voice trailed off, laced with confusion.

"Didn't we agree our marriage wouldn't be about societal pressures?" he continued, his voice gentle but firm. "We said it would be built on God's word and our own choices. So what's going on? Help me see things from your perspective." He squeezed my hand gently, his concern evident.

My gaze dropped to our hands, a bitter laugh bubbling up in my throat. "See things from my perspective?" I finally managed, the humor devoid of any warmth. " I doubt that because from the look on your face, it seems like I just asked you to skydive without a parachute."

Confusion deepened on Yele's face. "What do you mean, Yadah?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

 "I don't blame you," I voiced. "You can't understand why I snapped. You're not the one everyone's scrutinizing. you're not the one everyone is scanning for a baby bump every time they see you,definitely not the one being added to every Hannah Prayer Group online. And totally not the one subjected to the intense gaze of a weird prophet all day, telling you how demonic you are and that even if I stayed married to you for a hundred years, we'd never have a child." Tears welled up in my eyes.

"Prophet?" Yele frowned. "I thought you were just seeing your friend."

"Look," I said, "there were no friends. I spent the day with your aunt,Aunt Ibiyemi. At some prophet's place, of all things." I said, sighing heavily. I hadn't meant to tell him everything, but he'd gotten under my skin. The damage was done. I took a deep breath, ready to face whatever came next.

“Prophet?”Yele's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his grip on my hand loosening. 

"You followed Aunt Ibiyemi to a prophet?" Disbelief laced his tone. 

"Aunt Ibiyemi, of all people?"

 "I don't know Yele but that's not even the worst part," I continued, my voice trembling with emotion. "Do you know what hurt the most? Aunt Ibiyemi confessed that she was never supportive of our marriage. She expressed her doubts about my ability to conceive, based on some unfounded beliefs about my background. And you never thought it was important enough to tell me. I thought her hostility towards me stemmed from our childlessness, but it runs much deeper. Now, with the prophet's declarations, she has even more reasons to despise me.”I let out.

"Just stop that. Stop!” Yele's voice quivered with fury as he commanded, his face contorted with anger, the palpable frustration hanging heavy in the air. He took a moment to collect himself, his hand meeting his forehead in an exasperated facepalm. 

"I know exactly what to do," he declared with determination, abruptly turning to rush indoors.

"What are you planning?" I inquired, my confusion evident as I followed him cautiously.

"Don't ask me that right now. I'll be back, but I need to address Aunt Ibiyemi's issues first," he stated firmly, urgency lacing his tone.

"Ehhh, don't do anything rash, Yele," I cautioned, my concern furrowing my brow. "Please, don't confront Aunt."

"Don't even say that," he snapped back, frustration boiling over. "She had the nerve to take you, my wife, somewhere without my knowledge? To a God-knows-who prophet, no less? What if something had happened? What if you were in danger? And then all this chaos tonight because of her.”

“And you," he whirled on me, his anger blazing, "you didn't even try to tell me. You lied to me." His words dripped with accusation, his resolve evident as he stormed out of the room, leaving me to trail behind, a knot of worry tightening in my chest.