The Second Wife – Episode 15

The Second Wife – Episode 15

© Onyinyechukwu Mbeledogu

Monday 19th April 2004
7:07am
Hostel A2, RSUST

‘Congratulations Soki!’

Soki smiled as her hostel mates congratulated her on her wedding.

‘Bookworm!’

They teased her about returning to school when she should be away on honeymoon with her handsome husband.

‘My degree exam is by the corner, girls,’ she responded good-naturedly. ‘My darling husband and I can always have our honeymoon after my examinations. It would be a double celebration as I would officially be a law graduate.’

Dienye had dropped her off a few minutes earlier. He had gifted her with a car but the papers were being processed at the moment. However, even if she had the car at her disposal, she was back to the hostel and didn’t feel the need to use a car within school. She could afford to stay on campus without a car since she had just a month to go before her examinations began. And from what she’d heard, the Degree examinations lasted only a week. She had already made plans to be home every Friday and be back to school on Monday and Dienye was fine with it.

She was glad she didn’t have to worry about completing and submitting her project and thus could focus on her examinations. She had prepared ahead of time, choosing three potential project topics during the first semester break in her Fourth year and taking time out to conduct research on them. She had gathered a lot of materials by the time she returned to school for the new semester. Once her supervisor approved the topic “Environmental Crisis, a threat to National Security“, Soki had immediately started work on her project to the surprise and delight of her supervisor. She had already submitted the bound copies.

She would be turning twenty two in July and all things being equal, she would make it for the August law school batch and be called to bar by November 2005 at twenty three. She also hoped to be a Senior Advocate of Nigeria (SAN) long before she turned 40.

Smiling, she walked down the long hallway that separated the rooms on either side of her, stopping at Room 26 which was the last room on the left. She was greeted with excited screams by her room mates. It was a full room. Officially twelve students sharing three double bunks arranged in a u-shape but Soki loved the community arrangement. It was a really interesting room. They argued, fought once in a while, partied and prayed together. No one was perfect.

After exchanging pleasantries, the girls wanted full gossip. She had been vocal about her decision to wait until her wedding day before being intimate with a man and, trust the girls, they wanted to hear the whole story about her first time. She didn’t blame them though, in their position she would have done the same thing.

‘Classified information,’ Soki responded with a laugh.

‘Come on.’

‘Classified info, girls,’ she repeated, giggling at their disappointed faces. ‘However, the only thing I can tell you is that it was worth the wait.’

‘See love o.’

‘No be small thing.’

‘Girl, give us gist na.’

Laughing she headed for her wooden locker. The double bunks were arranged in a U-Shape. Her bunk was in the centre. Her bed mate Blessing wasn’t around. She was a science student and had a lecture fixed for 7am. Soki was glad her first lecture was for 9am.

She dropped her knapsack on the mattress and unzipped it, taking out the provisions she had bought the previous day. She filled her locker with the provisions, sorted out the books she needed for the day and threw them into the knapsack. She was already dressed for lectures in a white short sleeved blouse and black skirt that ended just above her knees. Her feet were encased in black two inch heel peep-toe shoes. She took a bike to the law faculty where she would receive another set of congratulatory messages.

6:17pm

38c Rumuola Road

B.B. Briggs pulled into his parking space at the side of Block C. He occupied a two bedroom apartment on the first floor of a duplex which housed four ‘two bedroom’ apartments with two apartments on each floor. The compound had a tight security and a mini tenants’ association which ensured that the premises was clean and well taken care of. One of the attractions of the apartment was the size of the living room and the bedrooms. The master bedroom was en suite and the other bedroom shared the convenience. The price was also good.

He was tired. He’d had a long day at the Court of Appeal, Enugu and had driven straight home once he was done, stopping briefly to have lunch. He hadn’t even bothered stopping at the office. The previous week had been very busy one, spent in preparing for his best friend’s wedding. He had driven to Enugu after the thanksgiving service and reception. While at his hotel, he had gone through his briefs of argument in the two appeals he was handling, taking down extra notes. He had slept late and woken up early to make it to the Court of Appeal before 8:30am. The Justices sat at exactly 9am and there were twelve sets of cause lists to be filled by counsel before the arrival of the Justices.

What he needed was a good sleep.

He took out his travelling bag from the boot of the Honda civic and locked the car. He went up the staircase to his apartment pausing when he saw a girl sitting on the staircase just between his apartment and that of his neighbour’s. She was dressed in a yellow top and blue jeans worn over black sandals. Her hair was plaited with black threads. She was reading a storybook.

She looked up as he approached. He recognised her from the photograph Christabel – Oroma, had left with him the day she came to his office last month. He had seen Oroma at Dienye’s wedding but had been too busy to ask her what she was doing there. Before the wedding the last time he had seen Oroma was outside her home when she punched her nosey neighbour. He hadn’t bothered seeking her out again.

He looked around but Oroma was nowhere to be found. How had she known where he lived? He wondered. Had she been stalking him? He had lived here for almost six years and he barely entertained guests in his home, so a lot of people in his circle had no idea where he lived and he loved it that way. And yet Oroma had found him!

‘Good evening, sir,’ the girl greeted, getting up from the top step.

‘Where is your mother?’ he asked without responding to her greeting.

‘She asked me to wait for her here,’ the girl responded.

She was seven according to her birth certificate but looked younger than that. He hoped her mother wasn’t trying to force her daughter on him! The girl did look like Nengi but that didn’t mean anything. Everyone had a doppelgänger. Oroma had taken advantage of him and she had also been a prostitute. Her daughter was probably fathered by one of her numerous lovers, if Oroma indeed knew which one.

He thought of dropping the girl off at home but he was curious to know exactly what her mother intended by her action. Besides, he was also tired and putting her in a cab might be dangerous. He didn’t want to risk anything happening to the girl. She may not be his daughter but she was a child and her life was precious.

He unlocked the outer door and held it open, inviting her in. She hesitated for a moment, looking down the staircase as though not sure whether or not to go in with him in the absence of her mother. And then she made up her mind. He dropped his travelling bag on the long couch in the living room. He yawned as he picked up the remote control and turned on the air conditioner. His unwanted guest stood watching him. What did you serve a seven year old in the absence of caprison and biscuits? There was no food in the house. Had Eseoghene, his current girlfriend being around, she would have stuffed his fridge with different kinds of fruits and the refrigerator with soup and stew so that all he had to do was make eba or boil rice or yam. But Ese was running a two week programme in Lagos.

B.B wasn’t good with children. He was barely ever around them. Ese, on the other hand was an elementary school teacher and good with children. He thought of Dienye who was always around children. He would have known how to engage a child in a conversation.

Why had Oroma left her daughter here?

He gestured for the girl to sit on one of the leather seats and walked to the fridge in the dining area hoping that there would be something in there. He found a large plastic bottle of jucee. He had forgotten about the orange drink which had been one of the few he had ordered for the last time Priye Daniel-Hart and a few of her friends had stormed his place from school.

He took out the large fruit drink and headed for the kitchen where he got a glass cup. He put the glass cup on a small tray and returned to the living room. He placed the tray on a stool beside the girl’s chair and filled the glass cup with juice. She thanked him but made no attempt to take the drink from the tray. Her eyes watched him curiously before focusing on the enlarged picture on the wall. It was his call to bar picture.

‘How was school?’ he asked her for lack of what to say. Had this been a court room, he would have been fired up but he couldn’t strike a simple conversation with a seven year old.

‘School was fine,’ she replied.

When the silence stretched for some time, Biobele looked at him and said: ‘I know you don’t want me here. I already told mummy it is okay if you don’t want to know me.’

‘I never said…’

‘I may be a child but I know a lot of things,’ she cut in politely.

Biobele was an intelligent girl. When her mother had finally broken the silence on her father and showed her his photograph, she had been excited because she was finally going to have a father like most of the children at school. She had quickly come up with a list of activities she could do with her daddy. The only male figure in her life was Uncle Dienye whom she loved very much. He had bought her story books which she read to the younger children at the orphanage. She had started the new term in a new school and was coping very well. Her mummy had told her that she had inherited her daddy’s intelligence. He was a great lawyer.

Her mummy and daddy had never been married but mummy had assured her that although her conception hadn’t been planned, having her was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

One of her friends in her former school had left school because her parents were getting a divorce. The news had been all over school. Biobele hadn’t known what the word ‘divorce’ meant until she asked one of the women in the compound they had lived in at the time and the woman told her.

She was glad her mummy had moved out of that compound. Living in a communal compound meant that you heard and saw a lot of things. They said all sort of things about her and her mummy especially about her not having a father. But her mummy had taught her to ignore their harsh remarks.

‘You are a special child and if they don’t understand that, it is their loss,’ mummy would always tell her.

‘And my father? Does he know I exist?’

‘I have made contact with him. I believe he would do the right thing.’

And here she was with him!

When he had come up the stairs and seen her, he had looked like he wanted to be everywhere apart from there. He had recognised her, most likely from the picture her mummy had chosen to show to him. Biobele had selected that picture herself from the few she had. She wanted her daddy to have the best picture of her. She had been looking forward to meeting him. Her mummy had singled him out at Uncle Dienye’s wedding but there had been no opportunity to talk to him. Besides, he hadn’t even tried talking to her mummy.

Biobele had asked her mummy a lot of questions after the wedding but mummy had clearly been covering up for him, perhaps to save her from the pain of rejection. But Biobele had understood the words her mother hadn’t said. Her father was yet to accept that she was his.

As much as Biobele had been looking forward to meeting her father, and although she would naturally feel really bad if he finally decided he didn’t want to have anything to do with her like some of the fathers of children she had seen pass through their compound, she was prepared for anything: rejection or acceptance.

‘Mummy wants us to get together but I won’t force myself to be your little girl so you don’t get to hate my mummy for the rest of our lives for doing this to you,’ she told B.B.

She didn’t sound like a child at all. Had life done this to her?

At that moment there was a knock on the outer door. Instinctively he knew it was Oroma. Relieved that he didn’t have to squirm under the child’s look, he hurried out to open the door. Oroma stood at the door in a flowing flowery dress. She was breathing heavily as though she had been in a hurry. He had judged her too quickly. He had actually believed she would not return for her daughter that evening and he would be compelled to let the child spend the night in his home.

‘Good evening B.B,’ Oroma said breathlessly. ‘I had no idea you would be back so early.’

‘Have you been monitoring my movement?’

‘Not exactly,’ she responded.

‘How did you know I lived here?’

‘I came here a week ago to drop a few things with one of your neighbours and saw you drive in. I asked and was told you lived in Apartment 4C.’

If her story was true, who was that loud mouthed neighbour? It had to be a woman. A man wouldn’t be interested in divulging information about another man while he was with a woman. Did she have clients around here too?

‘I don’t have a lover here,’ she told him, cutting his thoughts short.

‘I don’t remember saying you did.’

‘Your expression said it all. May I come in? Where is Bio?’

He reluctantly invited Oroma in. Biobele hugged her mother. B.B asked Oroma to follow him to the kitchen. He needed to talk to her alone.

‘Why on earth would you put an innocent child in the centre of all this?’ B.B demanded the moment they were inside the spacious kitchen.

‘She is your daughter and has every right to meet with you.’

‘I have told you before I will not take responsibility for another man’s child. If you are trying to extort money from me, this is not the best way to go about it. It is way too obvious.’ He drew his wallet out of his pocket, counted twenty five hundred naira notes and thrust it at her. ‘This is Ten Thousand Naira, and it is not for you but for the girl.’

‘She has a name: Biobele.’ Oroma said exasperatedly.

‘Whatever. Take this money and stay out of my life.’

Oroma looked at the money and hissed without taking it.

‘She is your daughter B.B. If you have any doubt, I suggest you request for a paternity test. You get to choose the doctor.’

‘No.’

‘Why not? What are you afraid of?’

‘I have no intention of spending my precious time and money on something so frivolous.’

‘Frivolous? There is nothing frivolous about accepting your responsibility. Biobele is your daughter…’

‘I hear.’

‘You were the first man I had ever been with, the only man I was with eight years ago.’

‘I hear you. I’m not interested. If you are looking for a man to rope into taking over your responsibility, I suggest you go to one of your numerous customers. Perhaps there is one of them whose wife hasn’t given him a child and who would gladly accept responsibility to salvage his male ego.’

‘What!’

‘You heard me. I know what you do for a living: prostitution.’

Oroma turned to ensure that the kitchen door was properly closed. She didn’t want her daughter hearing things like this.

‘She doesn’t know, does she?’

Oroma took a deep breath and silently prayed to God to help her deal patiently with this man.

‘She doesn’t know about my past and I want it to stay that way.’

‘Poor child. I am sure she had to deal with years of wondering which one of the numerous ‘uncles’ who came visiting, was her father,’ he taunted.

Oroma didn’t bother taking the bait.

‘I love my daughter and she knows that I love her. That is all that matters.’

‘And with the kind of example you would be setting for her, she would most likely lose her innocence before she reaches puberty.’

‘I am bringing up my child in the best way I can,’ she bit out, tempted to slap him. ‘And you have no right to say something like that to me!’

‘Don’t I? You’re the prostitute who is trying to force her daughter on me.’

‘Stop calling me that! I quit that profession a year ago.’

‘Oh good, clap for yourself,’ his tone reeked of sarcasm. ‘And for how long do you intend to be celibate, that is if you are? Until you find the highest bidder?’

He had no idea how low he had hit her below the belt! How could he understand how tempted she had been to go back to that cursed profession when she found herself unable to pay her bills? The pay from the job at the restaurant had been little and not enough to take care of basic needs but she had promised herself never again would she trade her body for money, no matter the sum or circumstance.

It had been like an addiction, something she had thought she couldn’t live without. At first she had gotten into profession because she was desperate but she had continued for some time, enduring the touch of different men and giving in to the lustful desires of her flesh. She had gotten a high from controlling the desires of men and being responsible for their pleasures. But no more! Her daughter was her life, her number one priority. Her desires came second and would gladly be sacrificed for the happiness of her precious girl.

She took inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.

‘This is not about me. This is about Biobele, the sweetest girl on the planet, and one any man would be honoured to call his daughter.’

‘I refuse to accept another man’s responsibility.’

‘I would gladly subject her to a DNA test to prove you are her father. If it comes out negative, which I seriously doubt, then I would pay you back the money spent.’

‘And how exactly do you expect to pay me back? You don’t have enough money and I don’t patronise prostitutes, not even the very beautiful ones.’

‘Stop calling me that!’

‘My mistake. Which do you prefer? Call girl? Lady of the night? Whore? Harlot? Scarlet woman?’

‘None of the above. I have a decent job.’

‘That’s not what I heard from your neighbour.’

He couldn’t forget how Oroma had attacked her neighbour for revealing her secret to him. She hadn’t exactly denied that she was still a prostitute.

‘Assuming I believe your words that you now have a decent job, does your employer’s wife know about your ‘past’ life? I bet if she did, you would lose your job faster than you can say your name.’

‘My employer knows about my past and unlike you he isn’t judgmental.’

‘I was referring to his wife.’

This man was so different from his best friend. Dienye hadn’t judged her when she told him about her past life.

‘The only way out of this, B.B, is to have a paternity test,’ she said, bringing them back to the topic at hand.

‘And like I said, I will not waste my time and resources.’

‘I am giving you the opportunity to get to know her. I’m the only family she knows and she was so excited about meeting you.’

‘What about your own family?’

‘I was disowned the moment I was found to be pregnant. And so you and I are the only family she has.’

‘I want no part of this. You laid your bed so lie on it. I am not interested in a DNA test and the next time you bring your daughter here, I will have her taken to an orphanage where she would most likely be adopted by a family that would love her and keep her away from you and your selfish intentions.’

‘What exactly do you have against children?’ she asked exasperatedly,

‘You would ask me that simply because I wouldn’t fall for your lies? What exactly is your game plan? To get me to accept responsibility for your daughter, introduce you two to my family and have them of course convince me to marry you and we live together happily ever after?’

‘I’m not interested in marrying you,’ she told him and she meant it. ‘What I want is for my daughter to have her father in her life. You don’t want a DNA test because having a child is going to affect your perfect bachelor lifestyle. Well, you don’t have to worry about me bothering you anymore. God knows I have given you the opportunity to know your daughter and you have chosen to reject her and insult me. No problem, but know this: the only way you would ever have access to Biobele is if you find yourself married to her mother and I won’t marry you even if my life depends on it.’

‘I am not interested in you.’

‘Okay. My daughter is better off not knowing you. I never should have brought her here.’

She opened the door and walked out of the kitchen. B.B followed closely. Oroma called to her daughter, trying not to fall apart before her intelligent little girl. Biobele looked from her mummy to B.B then she rose to her feet and took Oroma’s hand.

‘It’s okay, mummy,’ she said as though she understood what had gone on between her parents. ‘It’s okay.’

After mother and daughter had left his apartment, B.B sat on the couch in his living room deep in thought. He forgot all about the sleep he had been looking forward to. The girl, Biobele, hadn’t touched her drink, and he couldn’t forget the look she had given him before she left with her mother. He couldn’t explain it but the girl seemed to have been expecting a rejection from him from the start, and he felt bad that he couldn’t explain to her that he wasn’t rejecting her because of anything she had done but because she wasn’t his.

He was almost tempted to call them back and request for a DNA test as Oroma had requested for the sake of the child but he couldn’t fall for whatever trap Oroma was laying for him. He didn’t trust her not to have an agenda.

To be continued

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