DOWN- Episode Four

 
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You should not miss any of the previous episodes.
DOWN- Episode one
DOWN- Episode two
DOWN- Episode three
DOWN
 
Trust is a tower of thin glass
It doesn’t matter how tall
Or how longstanding it is,
One hurled stone
Of questionable action,
Is enough to send it crashing down
 
-Adegbola Goodness
 
Episode four
 
She put the mop stick in the mop bucket and reclined against the wall. What was it with the mortuary that she felt the need to go there? She did not like that place, she did not like anything that had to do with the dead. But today had been one weird day. The severe and vague hunch she had been having in her spirit was a testimony to the fact and Oyeniran Oluwaseyi made sure to pray in the Holy Ghost as she washed clothes, made beds, mopped floors. One thing was certain, there was a spiritual battle ongoing, but she did not know the specifics. Whatever it was, she did not let fear reign in her mind. She knew better; in Christ she had victory. At the cross, Christ made a public spectacle of principalities and powers, stripping them bare of their hold, shaming the sting of death and the victory of the grave.
Rescue my Lamb
Seyi walked down the terrazzo hallway briskly. At least she knew a soul was at stake. Stepping out to the shadowy pathway that led to the mortuary, she looked around wondering what exactly it was the Lord wanted her to do as dry breeze pierced at her swarthy skin. She put on the light of her phone and continued walking. The loud noise of the industrial generator that powered the hospital would normally drown out every sound but Seyi could hear the squealing of a baby. She turned in the direction of the cry and it was then she saw a woman in white, bent over, digging and beside her was a baby lying on his back on a rough patch of dry grass.
 
Rescue my Lamb
 
She forged, praying fervently in her heart.
 
“Stop!”
 
Startled, Mojoyin straightened.
 
“Cleaner, what are you doing here?” Mojoyin tried to sound composed.
“Give that child to me.” Seyi spoke with so much confidence as though she was not speaking to a matron. Where the boldness came from, she did not know.
 
Mojoyin gave her a once-over. This was a mere cleaner, she should be trembling before her, she should not be able to look her in the face talk more of confronting her. But Mojoyin found herself quivering inside. She muttered a chant under her breath, mustering all her occultic powers. The unease in her did not flinch, neither did Seyi’s pointed gaze. Seyi took a step forward and Mojoyin backtracked like a guilty child before an angry father, instinctively.
 
“Give the child to me” It was a command. Seyi’s arms were outstretched.
 
Mojoyin wanted to belt a command. She wanted to slap this rude cleaner across the face, instead, she handed over the baby docilely, against her own will. Seyi turned around and walked away. Mojoyin watched the lady disappear into the night and the large pit she dug seemed to call her. She usually dug pits large enough to take adults for the babies she decided to bury alive, her little last honour for them. But now, she was being hoisted by her plan. She tried to look away from the pit, she started feeling drowsy. As she tripped into the pit, she heard clearly, Whomsoever digs a pit shall fall into it. She screamed in protest but the voice of the generator gulped hers.
 
Andrew ran out of the hospital, unto the porch with tiles that did not look their original black colour because of the harmattan dust that had settled on them, panting. He held one of the large pillars that connected the floor to the top of the building that was white with POP, for support and cried out his heart to God. Pleading seriously for mercy, hardly stopping to catch his breath.
 
“Lord please have mercy. Please rescue my son. Lord forgive me… Lord please”
 
One glance at him and she knew by the prompting of the Holy Spirit that he was the father of the child in her arms. She reached to tap him.
 
****
 
Lovette sat by the edge of the bed, facing the closed door of the bathroom, her hands were propped behind her on the bed. Andrew sat on the other side facing the wall, looking at the painting of ostriches standing tall with eggs the size of his fist between their legs. Despite the pressing issues at hand, Andrew could not but wonder if the ostrich’s eggs were actually that large or if it was just the artist exaggerating. The backs of the couple stood face-to-face.
 
“Lovette I’m deeply sorry”
 
The blue wall clock that stood high up between them like a chief judge ticked for endless seconds.
 
“So you actually wanted to kill my son” Lovette’s voice was stolid and icy. Andrew wanted to say the boy was his son too, he wanted to start explaining how he barely knew what he was doing, over again, but he thought better of it and decided instead to let silence plead for him.
 
Lovette stood up and walked to the closet. She reached up and pulled down a brown box. Andrew’s heart fell into pieces.
 
“Please. Please don’t go”
 
She continued throwing clothes into the box and he watched her with pain. She was not packing like someone who wanted a little time to herself –she was going all out and she was packing the baby’s things as well.
 
The past seven days had been the hottest, most challenging days of Andrew’s life. They had only returned from the hospital today.
 
While they were at the hospital, Lovette made sure to put miles and thick walls between them. Those days were filled with many tests and screenings for the child. The scariest of them all was the heart screening. When the results of the echocardiogram, electrocardiogram, and whatnots came, Andrew and Lovette sat before the paediatrician cardiologist, waiting to know their fate. He was so relieved to know that the ECG reading showed no arrhythmia, the child’s heart had no murmurs and did not have a defect, except that his ductus arteriosus was patent. The cardiologist explained that the ductus arteriousus used to be a bypass for the lungs in embryonic life but should become closed immediately after birth, she told them not to worry that the PDA would most likely close on its own. If by the second check-up, it was not closed, then a surgery would be called for.
 
Andrew prayed seriously that the patent ductus arteriousus would close. He begged the cardiologist to have the child’s heart checked again before they left the hospital, even though it was not yet the appointed time. She obliged and thereafter said the PDA was narrowing and assured them it would close on its own.
 
Andrew was grateful. There was still something to be grateful for. As the child moved from one lab to another department of the hospital, Dr Amongbonjaye, their paediatrician gave them heads up.
 
The child’s oxygen saturation was 84%, that was fair enough for a newborn and it would get better with time. The gut screening was a success –no duodenal atresia, and his rectum was well innervated so no Hirschprung’s disease. Thank God! He failed the first hearing test. Andrew was greatly bothered. Was the child going to be deaf? Was that why his ears were so small? The doctor assured him that even if the child failed the first two hearing tests, it did not mean for sure that he was deaf. He would still have to be taking hearing tests all through his childhood regardless of the result.
 
When the news came that the child passed the second hearing test, Andrew threw his fists in the air and screamed “That’s my boy!” but the look Lovette tossed in his direction made his smile wither.
 
The doctor said a lot of other things, one of which was the fact that a child born with Down syndrome was at a higher risk of having Leukemia. When the Complete Blood Count test result came and she said the child did not have Leukemia or TMD which were the major causes of concern, Lovette heaved a long sigh of relief. But, he had thrombocytopenia –too many platelets. He would have to retake the CBC test at 6 months to be sure he did not have Leukemia. Also when he would be six months old, he would have to take another test to ascertain he does not have hypothyroidism, even though his first test was negative. She briefly told them the symptoms to look out for, which could indicate Leukemia; petechia –red small spots on the body- bleeding and fever. They did not have to worry, children with DS respond better to chemotherapy. Andrew made a mental note of another prayer point: Lord, don’t let my son have Leukemia.
 
The boy’s joints where weirdly overly flexible and he was as floppy as a soggy layer silk set astir in a windy night. Lovette asked the doctor why. Did the child not have bones? The doctor said it comes with his condition, he has low muscle tone and that brings the need for therapies. She intimated them on the therapies the child would have to undergo; physical, occupational and speech therapies. Lovette asked where she could get that. The Dr promised to find out. Later, Lovette collected the contacts of a few therapists from Dr Amongbonjaye. As she went on with all she did, she was careful to shut Andrew out. Every time he tried to contribute his quota or be there for his son, she made him feel like an intruding stranger. Smitten by guilt and the need to regain his wife’s trust, Andrew withdrew and let his wife have the reins and she took them in a tightly clenched fist.
 
Dr Amogbonjaye said the child’s red reflex was observed when his eyes were tested with an ophthalmoscope, so thankfully, he did not have congenital cataracts. However, he did have strabismus and his ophthalmologist was working on his glasses already. He would have to be seeing the ophthalmologist for his first year and if the glasses did not work, a strabismus –eye muscle- surgery would be necessary.
 
Oh God! Just one extra chromosome and all these?
 
As much as the paediatrician was being factual, she was very encouraging. A lot better than the cold, hopelessness Google threw at them. But they still floundered on how much they had to bear. Mojoyin was right, the condition was really expensive. The final result of the chromosome test returned that morning, and even though, it was almost certain that the child had Down’s syndrome, Andrew hoped against hope.
 
But spiting his hopes, the result read; 47XY, +21.
 
Andrew sighed. His wife was now zipping up the box. She was falling apart, she needed him, he too was and he needed her. They needed each other. It was bad enough that he was falling apart, but he could not bear to fall apart and fall away from his wife. But it was all his fault. He took the blame. He loathed himself for ever thinking of killing a child, his child. An innocent soul that only needed his love. Now that he had realized his mistake, it was too late. Now that he was willing to love his son, he was no longer available. Lovette would not even let him come close to her son to talk of letting him touch the child. Whenever he walked into the private ward where Lovette and the baby stayed while she was recuperating from her surgery, she would hold the child up. A shield, warning or reminder?
 
“Lovette, I love this boy… You know I’ve always loved him even before I met him.”
 
“And when you did, all the love vanished? I thought I knew you, but clearly, I had no idea”
 
She was now approaching the door, trundling the box with one hand and holding her son with the other.
 
“Where are you going?”
 
Silence.
 
“Tomorrow is his christening ceremony. You cannot leave now.”
 
She halted. She had forgotten. Her head started aching terribly. Her sutured incision was now stinging.
 
She went back to the bed.
 
“What name are you giving him?” She asked. She already had his first name, it came to her when she first held him in her hands, right after the surgery, before she fell back into sleep.
 
He is precious in my sight. She knew then what her son’s name would be and nothing would change that, not even his condition. She already knew what name Andrew would give the child, he had the name ever before they even met.
 
“Kosisochukwu” Andrew replied after a thoughtful pause.
 
“Kosis-what? Where did that come from? What does it mean?”
 
“It means, as God would have it. It’s a good name.”
 
Lovette turned her face away from him, angry and defensive.
 
“My son would not bear a name that clearly is a resignation to fate. You always wanted your first son to bear Chibuzor, so what has changed now?”
 
He knew what she meant, he could see the flash of red. It was either he conceded or worsened matters.
 
“Chibuzor it is. What name are you giving him?”
 
“His first name would be Precious”
 
Precious? Andrew thought the name was ironic sort of. A thing like a fruitless Abram claiming to be Abraham. But he could not dare to say that. Lovette’s opinion on anything touching her son was not up for debate.
 
“Or do you have a problem with that?”
 
He could recognize a bait. “No. It is the perfect name.” He sighed. “Mama called. She wanted to come over today and stay for omugwo, our tradition demands that the Father’s mother comes over to tend to the mother and child for at least two months.”
 
“You know that is the last thing we need.”
 
“Yeah, I figured. I told her we are going through a phase. She was unwilling to understand. She got angry and said she would not even come for the christening ceremony.”
 
Lovette looked at him and saw a man who was crashing from inside out. For a millisecond before the shield of her anger and hate was raised, she felt sorry for him. Lovette loved her mother-in-law, Mrs. Eucharia Okwanze and she considered calling her to come for the omugwo. But that would not be necessary since she would be leaving the house immediately after the ceremony.
Lovette left for the guest room, of course with her son.
 
****
 
People came to greet her before they left. She wished they would all go without disturbing her or making her have to force a smile. Despite the fact that she made sure the invite only got to a few people, people still found a way to wriggle in. She was irritated.
 
“I’m going inside,” She said to Modupe and rose. Modupe followed. Dupe insisted on helping Lovette with the child and she had to succumb to Dupe’s request against her wish. She saw how Dupe studied the child as she played with him. It would not take long before she realized.
 
Lovette laid on the bed in the guest room.
 
“Thank God the child did not die eventually. How did the miracle happen? Andrew said he was stillborn.”
 
“My child was never dead.”
 
Dupe was confused. But Lovette’s gruff tone and straight face warned her not to push it. She decided to change the subject.
 
“He’s a unique child.” She smiled down at Precious.
 
“Yeah, right. He has Down’s syndrome”
 
Modupe felt bad. She had sincerely meant that to be a compliment. She liked his tender fragility, his pink fingers. She was not hinting at anything, but Lovette must have thought she was mocking. The simple fact that Dupe did not know what Down’s syndrome was made her know it was a serious condition.
 
“I’m sorry about that. See we all have crosses to bear in life oh. Me now, I have a four-year-old child who can’t say pim. I have gone from mountain to prayer house, but this dumb spirit won’t leave my son. Don’t worry, I will take you to some powerful prophets. We would be fine. Our sons shall be healed”
 
If Dupe was trying to encourage Lovette, she was failing terribly. Dumb spirit. Prophet. Prayer house. What nonsense. Lovette was irritated.
 
“I think I would rather be left alone.”
 
After Modupe left, Lovette could not take her mind off what Modupe said. She had a knowing in her that Modupe’s son did not have any dumb spirit. What then could be wrong with him? She decided to focus on her own plight.
 
She breastfed Precious, cleaned his umbilicus with cotton wool dampened with methylated spirit, kissed his cheek and set him in his crib before she laid to rest. The next day would be a long day, she needed rest and so did her little champ.
 
Her sleep was interrupted by Andrew’s knock. The child had to be circumcised and the nurse who would do it was around. Lovette told him to go with the child. She did not want to witness his pain. For the first time, Lovette let Andrew touch her son. He was very glad. As the nurse cut off the child’s prepuce, he shrieked in pain. Andrew was greatly moved by compassion. He held his son’s hands. And when it was over, Andrew tended his son carefully till he fell asleep on his chest. He lay awake on the couch in the still night watching over his sleeping son.
 
He that watches over Israel neither sleeps nor slumber. I am here for you, son.
 
Andrew was grateful for God’s immense love for a person as undeserving as him. He prayed quietly that God would help him through the storm. He wanted to love his son like he should. He wanted to be the kind of father God was to him. He prayed silently, his arm safely guarding Precious. Indeed, he was precious. Now, Andrew saw that the name was in no way ironic, that it was actually perfect.
 
His baby’s breathing was the consistent, even kind that came with sleep and Andrew wanted to take off his shirt so that he could feel the warm gentle blasts from his son’s nostrils on his hairy bare skin. This was the first time he would actually be getting close to his son and he wanted the moment to last forever. This tranquil moment, in the dark, on the taupe settee, with his yet only begotten son. A moment beautiful in a way that could not be beheld, but felt.
 
He wondered if his own father ever held him to his chest like he now did to his own son, and doubted it. It was hard to picture his father doing a thing like that, he would have dismissed it as a woman’s duty. Andrew was pained to know that he could not remember his father’s face. Even if his father did not hold him, he knew that the man loved him in his own way. He wanted Andrew to fit into the mould of what he conceived as ideal.
 
Foggy memories of him came. Andrew remembered that whenever his Dad returned from wars he would sit on the balcony staring blankly, sitting on that white plastic chair that had streaks of brown and black from age and infrequent use. He would sit alone for hours in the company of the crate of stout Andrew would have bought for him. He would not say a word to anyone until about the third day. One memory stood out, clear in Andrew’s mind.
 
One of those nights when his father was wasted from drink, he plodded into the living room and plunked onto the well-worn sofa that was a wafer-thin layer of foam on a creaking wooden framework and encased in a tweed cover torn here and there by friction and rats, sprawled himself and almost immediately started snoring, Andrew had been reading on the dining table for his promotional exams when his father started talking in his sleep.
 
“Jisike.. Jisike, I never meant to… I swear by the amadioha I never meant to.”
 
The man rose up in cold sweat and for a fleeting moment before the usual mask was brought down, Andrew saw in the light of the kerosene lantern he was using to read, his father’s face contoured with pain, regret, and grief. Later, he nerved up and asked his father who Jisike was. The hard, angry glare his father gave him was enough to make him hurry an apology, run inside the house and swallow his curiosity forever. But even now, the question nagged at him; who was Jisike?
 
He thought up possible persons Jesike could be –a man he cheated? No it had to be something graver. A man whose wife he had an affair with? A kinsman that died from a bullet that strayed from his hands in war front? And on and on- before he drifted off to sleep.
 
When he woke up, the child was gone and so was his mother. He felt bereft. Just when he thought things were starting to look up.
 
****
 
Lovette gently pressed the brake with her right foot and turned the steering to the left. She pulled up in the garage of a restaurant. The windows were up, the AC on. She put her elbow on the door and propped her head on her hands. For the first time since the storm began, she decided to let down her walls, she did not feel the need to be strong any longer, she let the tears fall. Her lips trembled as she pressed them together, her eyes burned as more and more tears flowed. She turned her head to look at her son, he was lying in a cradle on the front passenger’s seat and her heart burned hotter.
 
Now that Andrew was not around, there was no need to feign strength or hide behind the masks of anger or a false sense of protection for her child. A lot of emotions roiled in her, mostly bitterness –against her husband, against God and surprisingly against her son.
 
Why would God give her a child with Down’s syndrome? What had she done to deserve that? When she looked through the window, she saw a teenager, fanning embers that roasted the corn she sold by the roadside with one hand and with the other hand she nestled a suckling child to her breast. That was probably her child. He was perfect, no Down’s syndrome. She most probably had him out of wedlock, conceived him in sin, yet God did not deem it fit to give her Precious, why then did God give a Lovette who served him in uprightness a burden? Where was the fairness in that?
 
Lovette was ashamed of the path her thoughts towed. If she thought of her child as a burden, how was she different from Andrew? She showed hatred and distaste for her husband and acted like she cared for her son when all she did, in reality, was to use the child as a weapon against her husband and use Andrew as an outlet to vent her pent-up bitterness against God –and her son. Lovette was trying really hard to love her son genuinely like she did the first time she held him in her hands, it was the noble thing to do. But she knew why she could not, her heart had been poisoned with bitterness and a tree could not bear mangoes and bitter leaves.
 
Lovette sighed. She did not know where she was going neither did she know where her life was heading. She wailed loudly, startling her son and causing the stitched line of the caesarean section on her lower abdomen to ache. She cried herself to sleep. Now that she could not use anger against Andrew or care for Precious as escapes from reality, she used sleep.
 
****
 
Andrew’s day was an arid stretch of purposeless time tautened by anxiety and fear. He wished he was not on leave, he wished his mother was around, wished Lovette didn’t loathe him so much, wished she didn’t have to leave, he wished for many things and yet again the old desire for alcohol reared a head that Andrew promptly squashed.
 
Drunkenness for Andrew was the sin that easily beset him since he had developed the habit in his teenage. He had to trust God after his conversion to desist from it. It was hardest, the fight against the temptation, after his relationship with Bimpe ended. Bars, pubs, and bottles literally beckoned on him then, but as he yielded to the outworking of the Holy Spirit, he was able to stand.
 
Andrew walked from the room to the kitchen, he opened the fridge, snapped it shut, opened the freezer and dropped the lid, nothing appealed to him. He went to the living room, nothing on the TV interested him. Throwing down a throw pillow angrily, he stood up and went back to the room. What could he do to kill time? Then he remembered Bimpe’s complimentary card.
 
He went to the closet to find the suit he wore on the day of his son’s birth and in the pocket of the trouser, he found the card. It had floral patterns and words etched in shiny cursives. He only needed the phone number.
 
Bimpe picked up on the first ring and that made Andrew know she had been with her phone.
 
“Hello”
 
“Hey, it’s Andrew. Am I on to Bimpe?” Of course, he had already recognized her voice.
 
“Hey Andrew. You know I thought you were never going to reach out. I gave you my card over a week ago.”
 
“I apologize. Things have been really one kind.”
 
“I can imagine. Is that why you sound so… so broken?”
 
“I am broken.” He blurted.
 
“Trust me, we all are. Some of us have just learned to wear it with swagger.” She said with a self-mocking laugh. Andrew was pleased to hear her being real with him. At least this time, she was not caught up in her properness.
 
“I hope I am not interrupting your work?”
 
“No, I still have a few minutes to the end of lunch hour”
 
Andrew started to pour out his heart about all that had been going on in his life recently, surprising himself by the ease with which he shared his burden with her. She listened, like old times. But it didn’t last so long.
 
“Andrew, I’m really sorry. I have to go now. But we should pick this up later. What do you say, we meet up this evening?”
 
He was shocked, glad and a bit nervous. “What do you think I would say?”
 
She laughed. “Alright then. I would text you the venue and time.”
 
“But would your husband be comfortable with this?”
 
“He is not around. Bye.” But that does not answer the question
 
He sighed and then smiled. At least now, he had something to look forward to. He wondered briefly if it was okay for them to meet up, what would their meeting turn out to be? There was only one way to find out.
 
****
 
Andrew liked the fact that Bimpe chose a park. It felt appropriate, at least better than a restaurant, that would have made him feel like they were going out on a date. He decided to wear a red T-shirt with jeans and a pair of white Convince sneakers.
 
He pulled up in the garage of the park, put on his white face cap and stepped out. He dialled Bimpe’s line. She was on her way. He decided to sit on the bench situated beneath a tree that had been stripped bare of leaves by the brutal hands of harmattan. They used to sit under the tree in front of her faculty back in the day. Nostalgia rose in him.
 
He saw her looking around for him. She was about to call his phone when he stood up and then she saw him. She wore a white gown that had glittery silver sequins, it reached down to her calves and had a slit in front up to her knee, she wore her hair in an elegant coiffure, this time it was not the blond weave, it was highlighted auburn and longer. Andrew noticed she had make-up on, she wore jewellery. It was clear she put in effort to look good. Was it the norm in her life or did she put in extra effort for him? Andrew hoped it was the former because, in all truth, all he wanted was someone to talk to. Reviving passion was the last thing he wanted.
 
But as Bimpe came closer looking as stunning as ever, as she smiled at him and as they hugged hello, one thing became clear to Andrew, old flames do not need permission to rekindle.
 
Questions for the week:
 
*Mojoyin’s powers proved potent with Andrew but were useless when tried on Oluwaseyi, although both were believers, what do you think is the reason for that?
*Do you think Lovette is going overboard? Should she have left her home? Is it ever justifiable to leave one’s matrimonial home, if yes, what are those conditions?
*Is Andrew’s meeting with Adebimpe a wrong move? How should one relate with an ex, especially if you are now in a committed relationship or are married?
 
Thank you. Your readership is highly appreciated. And your participation in answering the question for the week would also highly be appreciated.
 
To answer the question, make a post on Facebook, Instagram or Twitter, tag me –I would drop my handles now- and don’t forget the hashtags #CFCDown and#CFCDowntheconversation. Please participate, your opinion matters a great deal.
 
Instagram – @official_mophie
Facebook- Goodness Adegbola
Twitter- @AdegbolaMo
 
 
NEXT ON DOWN
 
Bimpe blamed herself for all that Andrew was going through. If he had married her, he would probably not have a child with Down’s syndrome and he would not be in this mess. As he talked, the people in the park left one after the other till the place was bare except for Andrew, Bimpe, swaying trees, closing flowers and a fierce breeze that prepared Bimpe for what she had to do. She had to make it up to him, at least she made herself believe that was why she wanted to sleep with him on that stone bench.
 
She leaned in, put her ringed hand against Andrew’s chest and wrapped the other around his neck, pulling him to herself. The sparks she saw in his eyes, urged her on.
 
“Wha-” She silenced him with a fervid kiss.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

6 Comments

  1. 1. Mojoyin powers was potent on Andrew because he was beginning to lose faith and trust in God.
    2. Yes Lovette is going overboard, she is allowing unforgiveness and bitterness to consume her, as Christian we . need to learn to forgive others most especially in marital relationships.
    3. Andrew meeting with Bimpe was wrong, his Pastor or a trusted Christian friend or even an elder in his church would have been a better option in such situations.
    Relationship with “ex” should kept at a distance as possible.

  2. Before I answer the questions, I need to say a few things. Three, to be precise.
    Firstly, I appreciate the fact that you transition smoothly from one day to another and from one place to another. It makes it effortless for the reader to flow. I know that takes a lot of effort.
    Secondly, about the characters. I really like the fact that you introduced a character seamlessly at the start of this episode. It’s been a trait of this series. Still on the character, you also build the characters in a way that they have “personalities”. Well done.
    Finally, ermm…shey you are related to Luke? ’cause you are a Doctor-Disciple o ✌🏾😁 Thank you for injecting your passion with your profession.
    So, now to the questions..🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️

  3. *Mojoyin’s powers proved potent with Andrew but were useless when tried on Oluwaseyi, although both were believers, what do you think is the reason for that?
    Hmm. I think Andrew was weak at that point in time. The circumstances had gotten to him.
    *Do you think Lovette is going overboard? Should she have left her home? Is it ever justifiable to leave one’s matrimonial home, if yes, what are those conditions?
    Hmm. It’s difficult to say she’s going overboard. For goodness’ sake, the guy tried to kill their son. Her son. She’s entitled to be angry. I feel time at her friend’s place could help.
    For me, domestic violence is a justifiable condition for a spouse to leave the house, for a while. That’s to be sure that it doesn’t graduate to murder, and also to allow the raging emotional tides to subside.
    *Is Andrew’s meeting with Adebimpe a wrong move? How should one relate with an ex, especially if you are now in a committed relationship or are married?
    Hmm. I think so. Yes. Meeting with the opposite sex when one is vulnerable isn’t advisable. In those times, we don’t have our heads straight. So, I feel Andrew should have met up with a friend. A male friend.
    Relationship with an ex should be kept to a reasonable minimum. It doesn’t take much to revive passions and light old flames.

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