How to find a husband in Abuja 3

episode 3
When Kayode finally returned home that night, he didn’t say a word to me. I was sitting on the couch when he walked straight into the room and laid on the bed. I mustered enough courage and went to apologize to him.
I was really scared. I didn’t know what to expect from this new him.
“Baby, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. This house is ours, do whatever you want. I’m sorry.”
Initially, he ignored me but I refused to give up. It was too early in our relationship for us to start keeping malice.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I kept on repeating till he deemed it fit to answer me.
We ended up having sex and sleeping peacefully that night. I was so glad I was able to handle our first major quarrel like a mature adult.
The day after was a Sunday. We drove in my car to church. We would have taken his Venza Jeep but he had told me that it was at the mechanic’s shop. I saw nothing wrong with that. I didn’t even stop to think why all his properties were undergoing repairs. We drove past several big church buildings and I was expecting his to be just as big as them. You can imagine how disappointed I was when we got to my husband’s church. It was totally different from what I was used to and not what I’ve ever dreamed of.
Before now, I was an Amazing Grace member. My church is located in central area. It was a big church where the members were very wealthy.
So seeing his church, I reacted like a normal human with blood and hormones. My jaw dropped open and I stared at him in disbelief with my eyes asking the questions I didn’t dare open my mouth to ask. The church was just a corner shop situated amongst other corner shops. You know what I mean? The area was too cramped up. I didn’t even know people had churches in such areas. The church had just one door and 2 wide windows.
At first I remained in the car while I watched Kayode get ushered in by the ushers who stood in
white blouse and blue skirts/trousers. They collected his bible as a sign of respect, I presume, and they all walked into the church.
After 10 minutes passed, I summoned the courage to walk in. I stood tall in my stilettos, adjusted my Ankara gown attire, held my handbag
in my other hand and wore my dark shades . I kept on telling myself that I’ve wasted my fine dress. As soon as I walked into the place, I was ushered to sit at the forefront beside Kayode who kept nodding like an agama lizard to whatever the man on the pulpit was saying.
Hushed voices filtered into my ears. Some were asking, ‘Is this the pastor’s wife?’ “She looks beautiful.” “She looks arrogant.”
I could hear most of what they were saying because the church wasn’t that large. I should be able to count up to 30 to 40 members in the tight church. Most of them looked hungry and the ones that looked well fed dominated the space with their weights. I sat on the chair and placed my bag on the side table; ignoring all their murmuring.
“It’s time for praise and worship,” The man at the pulpit announced.
A few seconds later, he stepped down, faced Kayode, bowed slightly to him and went to sit behind us. All the while, instead of me to be shocked by his hypocritical gesture, my eyes were fixed to his oversized suit. I wouldn’t call that cotton, it must be leather because the suit looked shiny and his purple tie on a red shirt made me realize that he probably wasn’t okay, mentally.
He poked me and I turn to face him with a neutral expression.
“Please ma, remove your glasses. We are in church,” he forced a smile and faced the altar almost immediately like he had said nothing.
Dazed, I looked at Kayode to see if he saw what had transpired and of course he did because he was staring pointedly at me.
“Babe, please remove it. Like he said we are in church.”
He turned, faced the pulpit and raised his hands up as a sign of worship. I was embarrassed. If I was the pastor’s wife like they claimed, no one should be able to talk to me about removing my goddamn glasses. I reluctantly took off my shades and forced myself to get lost in the euphoria at the moment.
From the praise and worship to the sermon which Kayode took, I wasn’t feeling it. He just kept dabbing his face with his Superior 900 GSM luxury face towel. At a point, the place grew too hot that even the two standing fans were not enough to calm the heat. Soon enough, I saw Kayode remove his suit jacket and hand it to his assistant.
I didn’t even know what he preached about but when it was time to announce me as his wife, I stood up for recognition, threw on a forced smile while the people applauded me. Some with wide grins on their faces, some with visible disgust, others with lust and genuine happiness on their faces. I was so happy when the service came to an end. However, my happiness was cut short as soon as I saw some people lined up for pastor’s consultation.
“Babe, please I will be in the car,” I made to stand up but Kayode pulled me down and whispered to me.
“Many people are here to see you for counselling as the pastor’s wife, so remain here. We are in this together.”
“What?” I whispered in shock.
You know that feeling you get when you are told to do something for the very first time and it’s something you don’t want to do? Well, that was how I felt. I developed cold feet but I sat still like a mute. I didn’t know what it meant to be a pastor’s wife. In fact I wasn’t even a good Christian. I rarely prayed. What would I tell a woman who comes to me for counselling?
“Ah mummy, thank God you are here. I’ve got a lot of issues on my chest that I’ve wanted to share.”
A small woman approached me and knelt down. I almost told her not to kneel down for me because I presume she must be older than I am as a result of her shrunken eyes and few strands of white hair that could be seen on display on her head since she wasn’t covering it. Plus she was putting on a wrapper and blouse that made her look much older. Kayode glared at me as if to remind me not to do something stupid and so I sealed my mouth.
“ I wanted to share it with pastor but when he told us that his wife, our Mother in Israel, would be here by Sunday, I decided to wait,” I urged her to continue. “I’ve been staying with this man for eight years now. He is jobless, and all he does is to eat my food, have sex with me, quarrel with me and sleep with other women. Is it fair? I keep labouring for the family and he hasn’t even made a move to pay my bride price and we have 3 children together!” she sobbed into her hands.
I couldn’t cover my shock. I mean this woman had brought a problem I couldn’t solve because half of her life sounded like mine. Perplexed, I took my bag and quickly walked out of the church, not bothering to answer the woman who kept calling.
“Mama! My mother in Israel!”
I flagged down a motorcycle and went straight to my house.
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I was so sure my nosy neighbours heard the heated argument Kayode and I engaged in. He came in about 2 hours after I left the church. I was in the room when he entered. I sat up in bed ready for whatever he was going to say to me.
I heard Kayode bang the door. I swallowed uneasily, bracing myself for the worst and by the time he entered the room my heartbeat tripled. He didn’t spare me a glance. He simply threw my car key on the dressing table and started tugging at his tie.
“Erhm, I was a bit sick that was why I left.”
I waited to hear his reply but he said nothing. He simply cleared his throat and continued taking off his clothes.
“I made your favourite. I made Amala and Ewedu,” he didn’t reply. I sighed and got up from bed. I moved towards the dressing table where he was seated.
“What…”
“Take your filthy hands off me!” he snarled.
I took back the hand I had placed on him. I was startled by the anger emanating from him.
“Wait, why are you even angry? Is it my fault that I don’t…”
“Don’t what? Know how to counsel a woman going through problems? Huhn? Just counsel you don’t know how to! You know what Rita?” he took a step closer to me. “You are so dumb. You are just all beauty with no brains!”
Now, that hurt me. But as usual, I ignored it and faced him, unfazed by his insults.
“Well then thank you! At least I’m better than a man who calls himself a pastor and lies to his congregation that he is married!”
I moved to sit on the bed but he pulled me back to himself.
He laughed. “Okay, then why did you accept the title if you weren’t desperate!”
“What! I’m not the only desperate one here. You are! You are the broke idiot who uses my money, my car, stays under my roof! You are just desperate to be with me!” determined to get back at him for calling me a desperate woman, I was almost saying more when he cut me short with his laughter.
“I own a house, remember? I came here for bonding, so we could save up for the future otherwise I would have put up in a hotel, you nitwit!”
“Oh look at you,” I clapped. “You call me a nitwit but yet you are attracted to the nitwit, sleeping with the nitwit and eating her food. Shame on you!” My voice had started breaking at this point, his insults were starting to tear through my inner walls.
“How can a man be this ungrateful?” I screamed in frustration.
“You must be daft to think you are attractive enough to keep me, Rita. Look here, there’s nothing, I repeat, nothing, that attracts you to me. Your food is always tasteless, you are not hospitable, and you know the only thing you are good at?”
At the point, tears had started forming in my eyes.
He held my face tightly in his hands. “You’re only good at sex!”
This is where I should slap him but before I could even raise up my hand, he slammed his mouth on mine and kissed me forcefully, thrusting his tongue against my teeth to gain entrance. He kept kissing me until he pushed me down in bed. I struggled but he tightened his hold on me. I should scream but I couldn’t because my neighbours already think he is my husband. So that was how I stayed, with a tear-streaked face, waiting for the most torturing 15 minutes of my life to end as Kayode raped me, bruising me inside and out.
To be continued…