BISI - The Other Woman

Bisi – The Other Woman Episode 17

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By Jon Doe

Holding his wife, her face still buried against him, he felt powerless unable to erase her suffering. Namdi could tell she had fallen asleep from the rhythmic rise and fall of her breast against his chest. Her tears had come to an end for some time now. Still he did not move. In front of him was the plate of eba and vegetable no one had eaten. He looked at each cut piece of the processed cassava, a conflicting smile appearing on his face. I miss old school eba, Namdi thought. He had always felt it tasted different, no, better, when he used his hand to dig into a big ball of swallow. Working his fingers to knead the lump he had excavated into a round smooth ball before dipping it into a bowl of vegetable soup with a light flourish. There was something in the ritual that couldn’t be captured when a fork was used to spear already cut portions. He would never tell Zainab this. She wouldn’t even use her hand to eat a hamburger. A small price to pay, Namdi whispered to himself.

Planting his feet firmly on the ground he stood up, the sleeping Zainab a feather in his arms. She stirred a bit but did not break away from the land of dreams she had deeply lost herself in. With measured steps he made his way out the dinning to the stairs leading to their bedroom. She nuzzled deeper into him, purrs of content coming from her throat as he climbed the stairs. The room was dark save for the moonlight coming in from the bay windows. Laying her down on the bed Namdi undressed her, each article of clothing neatly folded and placed at the foot of the bed. Moonlight bathed her skin in its white glow. His heart quickened, blood boiling in his veins. Tamping down on his budding desires he got a slip from the the armoire.

Taking his time he managed to dress her in the lace and satin night wear without disturbing her slumber. It barely hid the delicacies she possessed. Planting a kiss on her cheek he tucked her in and returned to the dining. An hour later Namdi sat at the table with a glass of wine in one hand, the large windows behind him. The kitchen and dining room had been cleaned, the uneaten meal packed into Tupperware and safely stored in the fridge. The only thing that remained on the table was the decanter of wine.

Namdi refilled the glass from a now half filled decanter. He gulped rather than sipped. On the table in front of him was the card his father in law had dropped on his lap. Glass after glass he drank but the words on the card did not change.

“Fe…rti….lity c…c….clini”

After nearly polishing off the bottle of wine his words came out in a mangled mess. His thoughts meshed together, brain becoming mired in a quagmire of intoxication. Grabbing the now half full glass of wine he made to throw it against the unblemished white walls but stopped, a keen sense of self preservation keeping him from such an extreme. With two big gulps he drained the liquid instead. On unsteady legs he made his way up the stairs to the bedroom they shared.

A full Redeem choir pounded out heavy chords in Namdi’s head. He woke up with a groan, a dull pain wherever skin stretched. Opening his eyes he saw he had missed the bed by a few feet, a night spent on the carpeted floor. His clothes from last night were still on him. Reaching into his pocket he brought out his phone. It wasn’t yet seven. Ignoring the headache he softly called out.

“Zainab are you awake? How you feeling?”

Hearing nothing he picked himself off the floor only to see an empty bed. She must have gone downstairs, he thought. With tentative steps he made his way to the adjoining bathroom. It was a large bathroom, easily three times the size of what he was used to before he met Zainab. In the center was a bath suspended above the floor by four golden paws. He had never used it to bath, at least not alone. He preferred the shower at the far corner of the bathroom. Even that was a testament to extravagance having multiple nozzles that could give quite a massage. Namdi’s first stop was the medicine cabinet. Finding the pain killers he had been prescribed, he ignored the written dosage and popped four of them.

Stripping his clothes from his skin he looked into the mirror noting his bandaged ribs. They were stained a dull red having spent a night soaking up the wine that had spilled on his shirt. He reeked of a mid quality winery. Impatiently he unwrapped the bandages letting them fall to the floor. Unclad as the day he was born he stepped into the shower, hoping the water would wash away all that happened the past couple days. A false hope.



A city with millions of souls sped by. Heat – generated not from connected bodies but the red orb residing in the blue sky – fell without mercy. Each soul within possessed a story that could fill volumes. Most would go untold; from unsung heroes to untouchable monsters. In this tale there are yet no unsung heroes, a thought no where near the mind of a Namdi situated in the passenger side of his wife’s car. As she concentrated on the road before her, his full attention was absorbed by her mute tones. Well aware Zainab would leave no heterosexual male’s neck unmoved if she walked into a crowded room he was a little thrown by the simplicity she currently adopted. He pondered if it was safe for him to ask, a thought he quickly shelved not wanting to douse the current high from earlier this morning with frigid water. His temperature rose, the rising sun outside the car innocent; thoughts of their recent coupling the culprit.

“So what was the ‘thank you’ for?”

“How many times do I have to say I’m not telling you.” Zainab said in a teasing tone.

“It was for cleaning up the dinning and kitchen wasn’t it?”

“I’m not saying.”

“For spending time with your dad?”

“Namdi just forget it. Even if you are right I won’t say.”

“I know now; it’s for not taking advantage after undressing you last night.”

“Taking advan… You dare!?”

Her hand lashed out to punch Namdi where it would truly hurt. He was prepared, trapping her slight fist in his before it could reach the weak center of his lap. In his hand he held hers, bringing it up and brushing the knuckles with a kiss. Zainabs hand remained trapped in his. She smiled, her eyes still facing forward. Over the center console their fingers intertwined as the car sped down the highway, one among many on a path.

The white Mercedes pulled to a stop in front of a large black gate. Namdi stepped out, pulling his suit along with him. He stopped at the driver side window, the tinted glass coming down.

“I could have driven in.”

“No need, you seem to have somewhere you want to go.”

“Oh, What time should I come pick you up? There’s a video of a proposal I want to show you.”

“Zainab don’t worry about it, I missed a full days work yesterday. Going to be late.”

“But I don’t mind…”

“No buts. I’ll call an Uber whenever I’m done.”

Namdi turned around making his way to the gate. He stopped, turning back to the car. Zainab was there waiting patiently the window still down. With a sheepish grin he leaned in and kissed her. A horn blared while their noses stood side by side. At first short, then incessant, the owners patience wearing thin. He couldn’t be blamed much, where Zainab had stopped was blocking the entrance. Unable to tune out the horn, Namdi pulled away. Zainab grabbed his tie pulling him back for a second kiss, longer this time, the blaring of the blue Honda nothing but background music.

Guards at the gate ran forward, stern looks on their face as they made their way to where Namdi stood. The man behind the wheel of the blue Honda had a smug look on his face. Your father can’t block me, it’s now you that wants to block, he thought; glee in his heart as he waited for the couple to be unceremoniously berated and dragged away. A puzzled expression soon appeared on his bearded face. Upon nearing the car window, the guards had abruptly stopped, each throwing a panicked salute. The puzzled expression grew when he saw the guards were now making their way to his Honda.

“Get out of here oshi!”

“Who do you think you are?! Carry this your dead car and park it in the middle of the expressway!”

“Can you press horn for your father that you are pressing horn here!”

Batons came out to hammer against the body of the Honda as the guards cursed the driver. A cold sweat dripped down the drivers wide forehead in defiance of the morning heat. Unable to make sense of the sudden 180 of the guards he did the only thing he could think of. Locking the doors he threw the car into gear and drove away.

Zainab remained unfazed by the turn of events, tucking a ribbon into Namdi’s breast pocket. Her husband on the other hand couldn’t help but throw glances at the unfolding drama. A small part of him felt sorry for the driver. He could remember a time when his owning of such a car would be a dream come true. With an imperceptible sigh he ran a hand to caress Zainabs cheek before walking towards the high rise building.

“Shake it for me baby!”

Namdi blushed hard. He could feel every eye trying not to look at him when Zainab shouted those words. It was then he could feel how closely the lining of his pants followed the curve of his cheeks. Knowing he would fuel days of gossip for these guards regardless of what he did, Namdi held his head high and strutted his stuff. Zainab laughed, two fingers finding her mouth as she whistled. When her husband disappeared behind the black gate, she looked up gazing at her maiden name at the top of the high rise building. It had been sometime since she had stepped into her families company. She thought once again of Namdi’s laudable attempt to shake his rump for her, a giggle escaping from her unpainted lips. The window rolled up as she drove away, her destination firm in her mind.

To be continued



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