Today we’ve got a Guest Post by Adelugba Areola and it’s title His Impossibility.
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Enjoy reading His Impossibility
There was a reason I was stone-hearted, I just knew there was a reason although I knew it not so I couldn’t defend myself when my father called me a lesbian, I dont blame him, I am 34years and he saw me “dude-like” rather than lady-like,all the men in sight were not just the man for me, save him, but
If only he knew how much I hated them, I hated women, I hated men more…too many memories of the many times people hurt and caused me pain, especially men…then I met you and it wasn’t any different. You left your seat that night at the cinema just to chat me up and I was bitterly angry because I left home avoiding to get into a conversation with my dad about marriage but then you showed your annoying, cute face distracting me from the movie I wasn’t interested in and you refused to stop smiling till I gave you my contact…you knew your smile annoyed me yet you kept ignoring the movie you came for focusing so much on provoking my name and phone number out of me…I knew then that you were different,it made me happy but I couldn’t smile then, it was the same old way…a straight face. But you didn’t leave…weeks after…you didn’t leave…four months gone, you changed me, you penetrated my hardcore and made visible my soft heart. For you alone I cried, I don’t know how you did it but I cherished you…you won even when no one was in competition with you.
I fell hard for you, gave to you my body and mind, you were richer else I would’ve given you my money…
I was starting to love loving, to cherish being cherished, and to look forward to a beautiful day out with you and mini-you.
But now I’m right here, alone and cold. At the dead of the night, just to write down this memoir, my hand and feet feel numb, not excluding my heart and my head could only count my heart beat per second as I stare into the empty book with my new routine, my hand immovable…and tears uncontrollable…if only I knew…
That the reason I shut the gate to my heart and threw the key away before you destroyed the lock was because death would snatch you from me, I would have guarded my heart more.
I can’t go through this again so I’ll just turn your bossom to my resting place every night till the sun is up.
And no, I can never love another as I did you because your death shattered my heart and I already buried the pieces with you just as you buried your seed in me.
Rest on Hammed.
“It’s been 7 months he died, please give up already for the sake of this child” Rasheedat pleaded with her sister again.
“Don’t you get tired of this your plea?” Jumai said with a hiss.
“J, I’m fed up, you lost your life, you left your work at the office that dad had to bring me back to Abuja for it, you left everything except this empty book that you claim to pen down what you discus with Hammed. You’re lost dear sister, just a shadow of yourself.”
Jumai ignored her sister and wiggled her complete term tummy to the room, she needed to eat something but she was cold, very cold. She had forgotten to take along her sweat shirt to Hammed’s “bossom” yesterday night and the cold got to her.
“Will you at least take breakfast and a hot bath?” Rasheedat said hoping to get a reply and surprisingly she did got one.
“Write everything I just said for me in my empty book…with that it will stop being empty” Jumai replied her sister on her way up the stairs.
Everyday, she prays that her sister survive the mental disorder love gave to her.
It was almost 11:30pm that Friday when Rasheedat came in from her friend’s bridal shower. She had a little much to drink and had made out with some random guy at the bar she stopped at after leaving the ladies show. She concluded not to think love after what it did to her only sister, a strong, beautiful, vibrant, intelligent, young woman turned nothing. She entered the house and assumed she was alone. Of course the maid would’ve gone home for the weekend and her sister as usual gone to observe her routine…at the graveside…they had to encourage her by keeping a mattress, pillow under the sheltered rest-hole of her sister’s dead lover, the psychiatrist said she could really lose her mind if she’s not encouraged and that day, she concluded the doctor was the one with no mind because her sister already has lost it all.
She sourced for bread and butter in the refrigerator and slept using the leftover to support the throw pillows on the couch.
Faint moans woke Rasheedat around 5:30am, her head aches and she just silently cursed Jude, the guy she made up with at the bar. With the smirk on her face meeting the victorious smile on his when the quickie was over, she knew they both had fun and that was all she needed, fun. She got up to place herself in her cozy bed and sleep before she starts entertaining ideas but as she faced the stairs, she faced her fears.
“Subhanalai!!” Tears immediately gathered as she saw her pregnant sister delivered of her baby herself..She looked from her already pale sister who covered the marble floor with her blood, to her beautiful petite niece confusingly.
She rushed to their side, carried the baby sharing of their blood with her cream colour low bodice gown, and with tears rolling down her eyes she just sat there.
“Don’t cry baby sister, you can live your life now but please make Hammed cry…Make Hammed cry” Jumai said faintly with all of the breathe in her before her eyes closed in death and her lips brightened of smile.
“If I knew she was home that night…if I hadn’t come home drunk…if hangover hasn’t restricted me…if I had checked on her before sleeping…if I knew what her last words were, I would’ve allowed her tell you how much she’d love to spend every moment with you, Hammed.
On a day like this, the best gift to give you is the story of your biological mother’s strength. Never leave your wife, because being alone ruins.
Congratulations on your Nikkai ceremony my sweet boy” Rasheedat concluded closing her sister’s “not-so-empty” book and wiping her tears for the umpteenth time, she appreciated Jumai for requesting that she wrote down her everyday thought that morning.
She had turned it to Hammed’s journal and it holds not only memories of her sister and her fiance but also of the handsome son they left her.
“Thank you mom” Hammed said as he led his crying wife, Hikmat to the car.