WALKING ON WATERS CHAPTER 8

 

CHAPTER 8

                           YADAH'S POV

"Should I swing by to pick you?" I asked Bodisere through the AirPod nestled in my left ear, my fingers dancing across the laptop's keyboard as I toggle through the windows.

"I think that would be nice," Bodisere's cheerful voice chimed in from the other end. Excitement radiated in her tone, mirroring my own anticipation. We were gearing up for a ‘lil girls treat’, this afternoon, courtesy of my invitation.

"So, I should be done with work in the next hour, and then we can head out," I said, toggling through the last of my windows. "Just make sure I don't arrive at your clinic to find you still with patients, okay?" I added in a playful tone, but the hint of the warning was clear.

"Did I hear you say patients?" Bodisere's voice rose in exaggerated shock. "Girl, just for this treat, I've cleared every medical appointment I had for the day.”

"Really?"

"Yes!" Her voice sparkled with excitement. "Do you know how long I've been longing for this kind of treat?

A short laugh escaped me, harmonizing with hers.

"What's funny?" she asked, playful curiosity threading her words as our conversation flowed on.

"You are ,you are funny,in short You amused me," I chuckled, teasing her gently. "Anyone listening to you rave about this little treat would think you've never been to a spa before. You're acting like you can't afford it, you bush girl," I teased, our banter flowing effortlessly.Bodisere would never cease to amaze me. Her voice, filled with excitement, painted a picture of a grand adventure rather than a quick visit to Oriki Spa and a stop at Hans and Rene Gelato Bar we are to have this afternoon . It was as if she had never experienced anything like it before, her enthusiasm turning a simple afternoon into an anticipated event.

"Abeg, leave me to my excitement," I hear her say as she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with joy.

"Do you know the joy that comes from enjoying awuf, the thrill of spending money that's not yours? And it's not just anybody's money; it's Mr. and Mrs. Cardoso's! Abeg, permit me to be happy," she pleaded earnestly, her words infused with enthusiasm and warmth as she referenced my husband and me in her last phrases. 

"See your mouth like awuf, Dr. Bodi, a whole Dr. Bodi herself happy about awuf," I teased, a grin spreading across my face.She laughed, her voice light and playful. 

"What is wrong with Dr. Bodi enjoying some awuf?"

"You, the main money spender yourself, money printer, oil money madam, the rich doctor herself," I shot back, It was no news that Bodisere is well-to-do in her career as a gynecologist and comes from an oil-rich family. Her late father was a king in one of Bayelsa's oil-rich communities, and her elder brother now reigns as the current king. Their family owns acres of oil fields, making her an 'old oil money' conglomerate daughter. So don't be deceived by her sugar-coated lips singing the praises of my husband and me as the money bags, because she is the bag herself.

"Tarhhh, leave that one," she retorted, her voice dripping with mock indignation. 

"Nothing sweet like money wey dem import over the Atlantic Ocean. I beg, permit me to enjoy this awuf bestowed upon me by you. Make I taste and enjoy these Cardoso's American papers," she said, her words filled with a happy excitement as she reveled in the thought of spending dollars.

"Please don't kill me with your whinings," I pleaded, laughing. 

"Kill you keh? God forbid I kill my benefactor," she shot back. I could almost see her thumb and finger snapping together in the classic "God forbid" gesture, the sound punctuating her words as she rambled on the phone.

"I don hear you," I replied, slipping into pidgin English. "Let me get back to work so I can finish on time and avoid any delay.”

"Abeg, do," she said, excitement bubbling in her voice. "I'm already counting down the minutes. I can't wait for those masseuses to work on my body. I think I would even prefer a male masseuse."

"Sister of God!" I exclaimed, picturing her with a sly smile.

"Abeg, leave Sister of God," she shot back, her tone playful. "I'm single and ready to mingle. Na you be the married woman."

"With just anybody? I cover your mind with the blood of Jesus," I replied, shaking my head with a smile.

"Amen, amen," she responded, her voice dripping with mock repentance.

"Anyway, let me get going now," she continued, her voice softening. "Once again, thank you for this little treat. You don't know how much I needed it. May God continue to bless you and Mr. Cardoso. You will continue to have plenty money," she said, her tone turning playful and childish as she offered her prayers.

"Amen. Okay then, bye," I replied warmly, ending the call.

As the call disconnected, a wide smile spread across my lips. Bodisere's voice, mixed with her childlike prayer, lingered in the air. It wasn’t just her funny, childlike prayer that lingered in my mind, but the way her gratitude shone through. Bodisere had a way of making you feel like you’d given her the whole world for even the smallest gesture.

Whether it was buying her something as simple as roadside puff-puff or getting her the most luxurious gift you could imagine, she would sing your praises to everyone around her. Her appreciation was so heartfelt that you’d feel compelled to do more for her.

But this time, her gratitude felt like a weight. The outing felt like an unknown bribe, a way to steer her for my own purposes. Shame crept in, making me shift uncomfortably in my chair. I sighed, my gaze drifting to the ceiling of my office, wishing there was another way to achieve my aim without feeling like I had manipulated her into doing what she might not want to do on an ordinary day.

I clenched my fists, feeling the weight of the path I had set for myself. It was a course I despised but seemed like the only way to silence the doubts and fears swirling around us—especially Aunt Ibiyemi's. The thought of her made my brow furrow.

Was my plan even viable? Would Bodisere go along with it? My teeth grazed my lower lip as uncertainty gnawed at me. 

Yet, giving up wasn’t an option. I needed to use every ounce of wisdom and every available strategy to reach my goal. The thought of having to stoop so low made my heart heavy. I wished conceiving a child with Yele was as straightforward as it seemed for other couples.

 My fingers traced the edge of the framed photo of Yele and me on my desk. In the picture, Yele wore a white long-sleeve shirt tucked into white trousers, while I was dressed in a white ruffled gown. We sat close together, his arm wrapped around my shoulders while my head rested gently against his. Our legs were slightly angled, touching at the knees, and our hands were intertwined, resting on my lap. Smiles plastered on our faces, we looked every bit the happy couple—so happy, so carefree—nothing like the strained and worried faces of the past few weeks.

"So what stunt did you just pull this evening?" I asked, watching Yele saunter into the living room. I stood by the couch in my sleeping robe, arms folded, my lips pressed tightly together.

"Finally, you showed me your true colors. Finally, you have done your worst. Hope you are glad that my nephew has beaten me with a rod for trying to help you and your unfortunate destiny, ni iwo omo omoburuku yii." Aunt Ibiyemi's words from the phone call she placed on me some minutes ago echoed in my mind, her voice dripping with sarcasm and fury. The sharpness of her tone stabbed at my thoughts, each word laced with bitterness and accusation.

 Yet I knew she hadn't been literally beaten; it was just the dramatic language elders use when a younger person challenges them. Still, the weight of her anger hung heavily in the air, and my frustration simmered beneath the surface, tangible and raw.

 My eyes narrowed at Yele, disbelief mingling with my anger. He tossed his car remote onto the table, his eyes avoiding mine. His shirt was untucked, and the tension from his visit to Yaba was written all over his face. 

He had driven all the way to Yaba just to stir up more trouble, leaving me to handle the fallout. I couldn't believe the lengths he went to create this chaos, and now I was left to pick up the pieces.

"Did you really have to go back to Yaba at this late hour?" I asked, my voice tight with frustration. Yele sank into the couch, his expression blank, fingers absently stroking his beard.

"Was it necessary to go to Aunty’s house tonight? What did you achieve by going there?" The questions spilled out, my tone sharp and probing, cutting through the thick silence between us.

"I pleaded with you not to go to your aunt's place, Yele. I really pleaded," my voice cracked as I paused, taking a deep breath. "But you still decided to go." 

Yele's face remained stoic, but I could see the flicker of irritation in his eyes.

"Do you know the kind of message you've sent by your visit this evening? Do you?" My words came out sharper than intended, the silence that followed was thick and suffocating.

"See, babe," Yele began, his voice cutting through the tension in the room.

Who is this one babe now? I thought within, the word grating on my nerves, though I couldn't deny part of me still liked hearing it from him. Get a grip, Yadah, I scolded myself.

Yele stood tall, his posture rigid. His eyes, hard and unyielding, bore into mine. "I don't care about the message my visit to Aunt's house might have sent." His tone was resolute, leaving no room for doubt. 

"What matters is that she now knows to stay out of my business, to stay clear of my marriage, my family, and especially you."

His voice was firm, each word landing with the weight of a stone, the room still and silent in the wake of his declaration.

"Can you truly hear yourself, Yele?Are you listening to yourself?" My voice wavered, each word laced with frustration. 

"Did you even consider how this ridiculous visit of yours would be seen as rude by any sane person? Or how dangerous it was to go to and fro to her place?"

Yele's expression darkened, his jaw clenched. "Ah, so now you care about the danger and harm that could occur to me?" His voice was thick with sarcasm. "You should have thought of that before lying to me about your whereabouts and following her to that unknown prophet's house." His eyes bore into mine, his tone sharp. "God knows what they've hypnotized you with to make you act this way, tonight." 

"Maybe the next thing I need to be on the lookout for is how to take you for a deliverance program," Yele spat, his eyes narrowing as his face twisted in a sneer. 

 "Since this is the path you and my aunt want us to go down, perhaps I should start searching for a deliverance center."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, my voice edged with irritation.

"I'm not insinuating anything, dear wife," Yele replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. 

"It's just infuriating to see you subjecting yourself—and our marriage—to my aunt's whims, to societal expectations about when we should start having kids. His voice grew louder, frustration evident as he paced the room. “It's really not pleasant seeing you go against the very things we promised we'd never subject ourselves to."

"And you think desiring a child is me breaking that promise, right?" I shot back, my voice unsteady as I tried to hold back the tears.

"Desiring a child isn't wrong," Yele said, his gaze piercing through me. "But doing it for the wrong reasons is." He stepped closer, his voice unwavering. "You're letting their pressure dictate our lives, and I won't bring a child into this world because of what others think." His words hung in the air, the weight of his conviction impossible to ignore.

I blinked, my mouth opening and closing in disbelief. "Wow," I finally said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Just... wow," I repeated, a bitter laugh escaping my lips as I crossed my arms tightly over my chest.

"So, I'm the one who desires a child in the wrong way? What a great way to describe my wish to have a baby," I shot back, the sting in my voice unmistakable.

Yele's shoulders slumped, his face softening as he sighed deeply. "I didn't mean it like that, Yadah."

"You didn't have to mean it," I said, my frustration evident in my tone. "Just like the way you'll never see things from my perspective. And the very same way ,you'll never understand whether my desire for a child is genuine or influenced by others' opinions because you're too pigheaded."

I paused, my voice trembling with emotion. "And you know what? If you think standing up to Aunt tonight has magically shielded me from her criticism, you're mistaken," I continued, turning to leave the room without even glancing at him.

That night, the space between us in bed felt vast, the warmth of our bodies no longer intertwined. Our usual bedtime rituals were absent—no tender goodnight kisses, no whispered prayers together. The following morning, I slipped out of bed quietly, leaving before Yele stirred.

Within the walls of our home, an uneasy silence settled, punctuated only by brief, strained conversations. Then came the unexpected family meeting called by Aunt Ibiyemi which only escalated the awkwardness to a new level. It was a gathering I hoped never to witness again in my lifetime. The details are too painful to recount, but suffice it to say, Aunt Ibiyemi didn't hold back in subtly humiliating me. With her typical African flair, she accused both me and my husband, even shedding a few tears for dramatic effect. It felt like we were caught in the middle of a soap opera, with emotions running high and tensions simmering beneath the surface.

 To add to the ordeal, my father-in-law also reprimanded Yele, putting further strain on our already fragile relationship. In the end, Yele reluctantly apologized to his aunt, but not without politely asserting our boundaries.As the days passed, we knew we couldn't continue with the strained conversations and all , we had to sit down and finally resolve the matter once and for all. Despite our efforts to mend things, Yele remained resolute in his decision—we weren't ready to start a family. Reluctantly, I accepted his stance, burying my own desires beneath a facade of understanding. But beneath the surface, a storm raged within me, fueled by the growing realization of what lay ahead.