DOWN- Episode Five

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Don’t miss any of the previous episodes.
DOWN- Episode one
DOWN- Episode two
DOWN- Episode three
 
DOWN
 
I contend with the King of kings
Over the Game of Thrones
Of men’s hearts,
And times and time again,
I have conquered.
I, Mammon, am
A King of Hearts,
Many a heart
I tell you.
 
-Adegbola Goodness
 
Episode Five
 
She struggled to move with the heavy sack filled with of metals on her back. She groaned, tottered. The man beside her, a shining being with a face she could not see and a peaceful mien, offered a helping hand that she ignored. She crashed to her knees, but she continued crawling. The man was still in step with her, still offering a hand, but she would rather die than take his help and it seemed she would.
 
Lovette’s eyes popped open to the hunger cry of her son. She looked around, panting. She was still in the car. Her sleep only put a hiatus in her predicament, it did not take it away. As she wiped Precious’ drool, she pondered on her dream.
 
Lord, what is this about?
 
Come to me with your labour and heavy load. Rest is waiting for you.
 
Lovette turned her thoughts, where would she go from here? A scraggy security man with thick eyebrows approached the car and rapped rather too firmly on the glass window. Lovette powered down the window. Lovette squinted at him and the sweltering sun behind his head, she found it strange that his uniform was so fastidiously laundered.
 
“Madam, you don park here for more than thirty minutes, shey you dey wait for person ni?” His inflection and the fact that his ‘here’ was deficient of ‘h’ announced his tribe.
 
“I’m sorry, I just needed to get some air. I would be leaving soon.”
 
“No be inside car people dey get air oh,” His frown deepened “because as Nigeria matter be now, person gas dey careful.”
 
Lovette turned on the ignition and drove out of the restaurant’s parking lot unto the highway, still completely clueless about where she was going. And then, she remembered Aunty Hauwa, her paternal uncle’s wife. She lived alone on the mainland, since her husband travelled abroad –on Aunty Hauwa’s life savings- and never looked back. Aunty Hauwa had been there for Lovette and Udoh after their mother’s demise, sending gifts and money, checking up on them with calls and visits, loving them like the children she never had.
 
It was in her first, that Lovette and seen practical Christian living, from her she first heard the gospel and though she never accepted Christ until her second year in the university, she knew that Aunty Hauwa’s life and prayers went a long way to help, even if she was not the preacher who led her to say the sinner’s prayer.
 
Lovette picked up her phone and dialled Aunty Hauwa.
 
“Someone wants my head on a platter for not making it to her son’s naming ceremony. Lovette I’m very sorry.”
 
“Good afternoon to you too,” Lovette chuckled. “I don’t want your head, I just need a place to lay my own head.”
 
“You know I would be more than excited to see you”
 
“Thank you Aunty, I’m on my way”
 
“Come oh, you are just coming to stay hello, bah?”
 
Lovette sighed. She had this coming. “No, like I said, I need a place to lay my head.”
 
“Your husband travelled?”
 
“Aunty, can we talk about this when we see? I’m driving right now.” Lovette did not wait for a reply before she hung up.
 
As Lovette thought of Aunty Hauwa she saw that she had every reason to be bitter against her husband, Uncle Emma and his entire family, but she chose instead to love. She did not make her heart a farm for bitterness to sink roots. And she, was a benefactor of Aunty Hauwa’s godly choice.
 
You have received a spirit of power, love and a sound mind. Bitterness is nowhere on the list.
 
This was why she didn’t want to share her burden with the Lord, because she knew already what he would say; forgive, go back to your husband’s house, my grace is enough for you. She did not want to hear any of those. Like she saw in her dream, she had not the power to handle the weights that were bearing down on her, but she had chosen to stubbornly cling to her pride, anger and bitterness.
 
****
 
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.
 
He did not kiss back. Instead, he pulled away, stood up and walked briskly towards the parking lot, shaking with nervous energy and roused passion. A response quickened by those months of celibacy imposed on him by Lovette’s pregnancy and he knew that if he had not pulled away the moment he did, he would not have been able to bring himself to a halt until he had gone all the way.
 
Stunned and chagrined, Adebimpe rose in a fit of pique, clenched her jaws as she swallowed saliva and the lump of shame in her throat, and hurried after Andrew.
 
“Stop right there!” She barked after him, surprising herself with her authoritative tone. Andrew was already backing out of the driveway and his speed was an insult on Adebimpe. He was running from a seductress. She clenched her jaws again, sheltering herself in anger. She pulled out her phone and angrily thumbed a text to him.
 
-You must think of yourself as the most holy thing in the world. A saintly Joseph fleeing Mrs Potiphar. How dare you! I was only trying to console you, you sanctimonious ingrate!-
 
Her guilt-tripping seemed silly and petulant to even her, but her mask of anger and superciliousness shut off reason. She wanted a battle, that would satisfy her ego, by giving her more reason to be angry and her anger would mask the only true things: her shame and the realities she hated to face.
 
-I probably should not have called in the first place. I take the blame.-
 
She read Andrew’s reply five times, she lifted her eyes that were scalded by tears as she stood rooted to that spot, awash in shame. She was ready for a fight but he took the winds right out of her sails by simply conceding.
 
As she walked over to her car, shoulders weighed, memories with stark realities flooded in, sending a ripple of dull pain through her. She remembered the joy she enjoyed in her relationship with Andrew, the halcyon days of purpose and love and friendship and vision. While she was in school, while she served in Ebonyi, and even when she returned to Lagos at the time when he was in his final year, they planned a future, laying a foundation that bespoke the auspiciousness of the edifice to come, and then Philemon happened.
 
Upon her return from Ebonyi, her father was able to link her up with a friend who owned a radio station and she secured a job as an OAP. She was happy on the job but not satisfied, she wanted something higher so she took where she was a point to build from and did not rest on her oars. News casting on television was her dream job, she worked hard at the station, and did not stop sending resumes to television stations or going for interviews.
 
Andrew believed in her and supported her dreams just like she supported his. When Adebimpe was not working her job, she was working her ministry. She remembered those days at her church somewhere in Palmgroove where she poured out herself in the children department. She recalled how she connected them to the word of God in way Mrs Olu, the children department co-ordinator, referred to as unique, the bond she shared with each one of those children. She could still picture their faces: sharp-tongued Angela, quick-witted Emmanuel, Abel the clown, the withdrawn Lara, Monica that called her Aunty Friend and was always peckish. Now the dull pain in her head gained an edge and prickled.
 
She remembered how she would proudly say after reading a piece by Andrew to the children that, “That story was written by Uncle Andrew, my special friend.” She had been shocked when one day Angela said “You know saying boyfriend would not sting, right?” and the whole class erupted with laughter, an active interaction about godly relationships, boundaries and the right time would immediately follow, with the children unleashing their pent-up curiosity and questions.
 
“You have sex with him, don’t you?” That had come from Lara. Bimpe blanched. Maybe she would not have been so surprised if it was Angela who threw that question. But Lara, quiet, reserved Lara? What did she know of sex, how come it rolled off her tongue as easily as ‘Bible’ would do? Mrs Olu saw Adebimpe’s discomfiture and smiled tenderly at her before stepping in.
 
“It is not ideal for a child of God to be involved in sexual immorality before marriage, you all know this, don’t you?”
 
They all chorused yes.
 
“Aunty Bimpe, I want to hear you answer the question.”
 
“Aunty Bimpe is not your standard, the Bible is.” Mrs Olu intervened.
 
“My fiancé and I practice what the Bible says and it’s upon the principles of the word that our relationship is built, so no, we are not getting involved in anything sexual until we get married.”
 
Bimpe saw in Lara’s eyes a twinkle, a look that said ‘It is possible’. That experience left her shaken, those children had heard the word been preached to them severally, but they needed to also see it practically. What if she and Andrew had defiled their bed, she would have had no testimony before those children, she would have made believing the practicability of God’s word difficult for them.
 
She pulled behind a vehicle in the growing traffic and knew that those children must have missed her greatly after she left, and she too missed them, she also missed herself, the Bimpe she was back then, she longed to connect with that lady again.
 
It had been a normal day like any other, that Tuesday in October, until her phone rang, a call from an unknown caller.  When she picked up, a male voice burdened with power or pride said hello. He loved the show she hosted, she was grateful, he wanted to take her out, she bluntly declined and ended the call, but
the call didn’t end there.
 
The next day as Bimpe made her way out of the station, a black jeep pulled up right in front of her, with a speed that startled her. The tainted window of the vehicle whirred down to reveal a handsome man with straight, spiky hair that had a sheen that was foreign, beaming a smile and looking her over with open interest. She clutched the handle of her bag, gulped and started walking, the car moved at her pace. As she walked as fast as she could, Philemon talked to her. She did not spare him as much as a word.
 
The look her co-workers gave her the next day made Bimpe wonder if she had hammered a jackpot only she was oblivious of, but when Amara came over to her working desk to tell her just how lucky she was to have a man like Philemon on her tail, Bimpe understood it was all about the annoying man that taxied along with her till she flagged down a cab and disappeared the previous day. Amara filled her in on who Adejuyigbe Philemon was. How could Bimpe not know him? She immediately Googled him. His net worth left Bimpe stunned but she did well to hide it. She told Amara off, saying she was in a committed relationship already. “Yeah, right? With your university boy. Girl, don’t let your eyes close in the afternoon and then open at night oh, Christmas don’t come every day.”
 
Philemon sent gifts to the office every other day. The first time she didn’t pick the bouquet from the receptionist’s desk and when he came around in the evening, she made sure to make him know the receptionist went home with his bouquet, he smiled and asked if he could give her a ride, she declined again. He sent gifts to the office every other day and before long, Bimpe decided to peek into the gift bag at least. The bracelet screamed ‘class!’ She couldn’t relinquish it. So, this was what the receptionist and other female members of staff enjoyed? No wonder they battled over who went home with the gift. The next day, it was a spherical bottle of perfume, when she sprayed a shot to test, literally everyone in the room inhaled deeply to relish the whiff.
 
Amara was there to make Bimpe know how serious Philemon was about her, if he wasn’t so serious, why did he not give up a long time ago? No one would pursue that long if all they wanted was sex. The least Bimpe could do was go on a date with him, to at least get to know him and know what’s in for her. “To what end?” She furrowed her brows “I love Andrew, and I intend to build my future with him.” As she said those words, she didn’t feel the conviction as strongly as before. Amara scoffed. What did he have to offer? Mere dreams. She described Andrew’s dreams and plans that Adebimpe erstwhile esteemed, as being at best beautiful frothy masses, precarious things, two birds in the bush while she had three birds at hand with Philemon.
 
Philemon put the cards on the table early enough: he wanted her as wife and this surprised and flattered her, what did he see in her? Just because he was wooing her, she knew how much respect she got at the office, definitely being his wife would be surreal. He could make her dreams come true and the first proof of this was the job he secured for her through his connections, that was her first job with a TV station, a huge stride in the right direction. The day Adebimpe read the mail from the media outlet that welcomed her on board, she cried. It was happening, her dreams where coming true. But what of Andrew? She had to tell Philemon about Andrew and Andrew about Philemon. She did the former, but didn’t do the latter, and in response, Philemon only released the smile of the powerful, the smile that seemed to say ‘I would get what I want in the end.’
“I feel like I’m cheating” She told him and he laughed, “We are all single until we are married, and no one can cheat until they are married, okay?”
 
And while all these were on, Andrew was occupied with his final year project and was busy being cute. Buying Bimpe suya, cards and tawdry jewellery while Philemon bought things studded with diamonds, rings with garnet or sapphire centre stones, jewelleries made of pure gold. Andrew was showing her dreams, promises from the word of God that now seemed intangible in the face of what Philemon proffered, he showed her the world, he offered luxury. He made her stand on a metaphorical high mountain and promised to give it all to her, all she had to do was say yes.
 
And she did.
 
The traffic cleared and Bimpe wiped her tears before she moved. When she saw Andrew at ICM, she almost jumped out of her skin. She had taken note of the black tape that lined the collar of his blue suit all the way down to the button, his brocade tie, his brogues. He probably was not Philemon Adejuyigbe who cared to shop mundane things like toiletries from Dubai or have a Chinese butler, but he clearly was not the same version of Andrew she knew, the guy who showed up at her doorstep with suya wrapped in greasy newspaper, wearing clothes that were unflattering, the guy whose monthly shopping forayed to Aswani where heaps of cheap wears lay, and a myriad of haggling buyers and eager sellers traded.
 
He was no longer the ‘University boy’ she could despise. He could now afford the luxury of getting lunch for his family from Ikeja City Mall, he was doing just fine –without her. She would have fared well if she had hung on to her faith in God and his word. Her relationship with God would not have been a thing of the past, she would have continued serving in God’s vineyard, she would have still been connected to the vine, She would not have been looking for revenge sex with an ex.
 
The real reason why Bimpe wanted to sleep with Andrew now stared her in the face. Philemon was having an affair and he was not discreet enough to not have the affair with Bimpe’s arch enemy, Imelda Tsavbe. Just remembering her made Bimpe mutter, “Smug bloody bitch!”
 
Imelda rubbed in her affair with Philemon and he did not mind the shame his actions brought her.
 
Just the other day, in the conference room, Bimpe could not contain her ire, she could not just stand by and watch Imelda act like she sweated to be where she was, to wear what she wore, to drive what she drove, to be who she was!
 
“Don’t act like you would not be languishing in a hut somewhere in Benue if not for hopping from bed to bed.” She spat the words before she realized they were coming.
 
Imelda smiled at her, a small venous smile before she said, “Maybe, if you say specifically what bed you are alluding to, we would know why you are so bitter. And maybe you too would be languishing in a radio station, hosting a show only ghosts tune in to, if not for hopping on a bed. Maybe, we are not much different.” She smiled again, this time her smile was innocuous, victorious. She walked out of that room with the grace of a goddess, leaving all the shame behind, for Bimpe.
 
Now, Philemon was away in the Philippines on a supposed business trip. When Bimpe tried to probe him on the details of the trip’s purpose, he carefully evaded it. Who did he think he was fooling? Or what more proof did Bimpe need, to know that this trip of his was only a getaway for him and his Imelda, since his trip had to coincide with Imelda’s leave?
 
She saw Imelda’s snaps, she was supposedly vacationing by herself, but she uploaded pictures that were not selfies, pictures taken by someone. And once in her selfie, Bimpe saw Philemon’s wristwatch on the dresser. What irritated her more than the stupid captions Imelda used –Guys, hard work pays. Worked all year to enjoy these few days. Living the life, it’s all grace- was Philemon’s pretence.
 
“Oh, I’m sorry, I could not pick your call cos I was in the middle of an important meeting.” Yeah, right? The middle of an important mating, you mean?
 
“These days have been really hectic, but I can’t complain.” I don’t even expect you to complain, hardworking Imelda is there to give you hectic jobs, isn’t she?
 
“I miss my beautiful princess, don’t forget to tell Lily that Daddy loves her.” A little less than he loves his sidechick, Imelda his precious medal.
 
And so Bimpe decided to give Philemon a taste of his own medicine, to show him that what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.
 
She realized now her own cruelty, how much she was like Philemon. Philemon married her because he needed a woman with morals high enough to be a home keeper, he needed a woman beautiful enough to buff his pride at occasions. He made her run round the estate every morning, would not let her carry a second child, because he needed her to, quoting him, ‘stay in shape’, and it did not matter that he was growing a tummy Bimpe hated, he dismissed it as a proof of his money, neither did it matter to him that she wanted more children. He needed a woman who had a career going for her, he needed an extra statement in his eulogies, and that was Adebimpe. Like he did with every other thing he needed, he bought her over. He used her, and just like he did, she wanted to use Andrew. But unlike her, Andrew knew he was not inanimate, not a thing to be used. Unlike her, Andrew had not changed, he had not strayed, he was still the same noble man, the same child of God she left five years earlier.
 
Philemon and Andrew stood before her like contrasting mirrors, each reflecting the version of her she was when she was with them.
 
Bimpe tossed her bag into the settee, took off her buff heels and headed straight to the in-house-bar. She had to drown out the memories. It was ironic that she, who had kept Andrew accountable when he still struggled with being an alcoholic, was now the drunk. It all started at Dr M’ba’s housewarming party, when she stood with her arms to herself in the upscale room seething with music, lights, clicks of expensive shoes on the immaculate tiles, beautiful faces, chatters, perfumes and colognes contesting for supremacy, food and drinks. Dr M’ba came around to greet Philemon and Bimpe and asked why Bimpe wasn’t having a drink, before she could respond, he had picked up a champagne flute from the tray of a server and handed it over to Bimpe. She couldn’t reject it, not under his scrutiny or Philemon’s beseeching look. She held unto it, not drinking. “There’s no poison in it, come on drink up. You can’t come to my party and go home with a dry throat.”
 
Philemon urged her and as she took a swig of the sparkling golden drink, she assured herself it would be a one-time thing.
 
She plunked in the barstool and reached for a bottle sitting on the rack, flanked to the right by a tall bottle of frosted glass with a blue cover, Magic Moments and to the left, it was flanked by a bottle of Drambuie. She dropped the Hennesy bottle on the marble counter beside the glass she had already wiped. She grabbed the bottle by the stem and ignoring the glass, drank deeply from it. By the time she lifted it from her mouth she was panting and smiling. She returned it to the rack and picked Mendis coconut brandy, she could do with variety. She knew Philemon got angry whenever she recklessly drank from his expensive bottles and she wanted just that, to be a pain in his neck.
 
Just then Jide sauntered into the house and greeted Bimpe before he stalked off. She wanted to ask him where he had been till 10PM but waved it off, what did it matter to her, anyway? Jide was Philemon’s nephew, going by his height and matured looks, no one would randomly guess that he was just sixteen. He stayed with them so he could take lessons for the WAEC examination he was retaking.
 
Bimpe drank from different bottles, made experimental mixes and before long, the spiky thoughts that prodded her mind melded together and liquefied into a fluid thing in which her head swam.
 
Later that night, a daughter would cry for her mother, a passionate cry for rescue, a cry that would fall on the deaf ears of a woman buried in her drunken sleep. Decibel after decibel, the intensity of the cry would drop till it becomes muffled, almost inaudible sounds as the child is being gagged with her teddy bear. When the episode is over, her large, pink teddy bear purchased from Paris would absorb her tears, sweat and saliva as she hugs it tight. She would need more, she’d need someone that would soak up the dread, hate and darkness that’d assail and seek to crush this beautiful Lily, but there is only so much a teddy bear can do, regardless of its origin, size or price.
 
****
 
Lovette put the baby on her lap as she changed his diapers, Aunty Hauwa was a looming presence behind her, and Lovette knew that she was waiting for answers.
 
“You won’t say something?”
 
Lovette wrapped up the soiled diaper “Please where can I dispose this?”
 
Aunty Hauwa stared at her before she said, “Give it to me” Lovette handed it over and Aunty Hauwa walked away with it. She returned a few minutes later with a trash bag.
 
“Put them here over the night and tomorrow, I will take it out.”
 
“Thank you Aunty,”
 
“Let me help you bathe him.”
 
As Aunty Hauwa gently slathered up the child and rinsed off the suds, Lovette knew she had to speak, she was being unfair on Aunty Hauwa.
 
“He has Down’s syndrome, Andrew wanted him dead because of the condition. The condition is a serious one and I’m confused, totally. I don’t know what to do”
 
Aunty Hauwa stiffened and was silent for a long time.
 
“Did you say Andrew wanted him dead?”
 
“He made an attempt on his life, if not because God intervened, the child would have died. He is a cruel man. I cannot stay near him, I don’t even know what he’s capable of anymore”
 
Aunty Hauwa towelled Precious’ body and dressed him up in a blue cotton shirt and matching trouser, she wore him a pair of socks and gloves, pulled snug the rope of his knitted cap around his chin and tied it. Lovette passed his tweed cardigan.
 
“You don’t exactly sound happy that your son is not dead.” Aunty Hauwa was now cradling the baby in her arms with a fluffy white shawl and looking Lovette straight in the eyes.
 
Lovette threw her head back and bawled, stamping her feet; a child recalcitrant to her father. “Why did he let him have that extra chromosome in every cell of his body? Why? What did I do wrong? What did I do to deserve this? This past week has been gruelling, you don’t know how much I’ve had to grapple with and even I don’t know what lies ahead.”
 
Aunty Hauwa gently dropped the baby, zipped up the cot and settled beside Lovette. “I don’t know. Honestly, I think you should ask the Lord all those questions. But I know, that Precious is a heritage of the Lord. If I may ask, why did you name him Precious?”
 
“He said he is precious in his sight.”
 
“Because he is. If the Lord could entrust what he calls precious into your care, then he trusts you and loves you, you should be grateful for this gift.”
 
“This does not feel like a gift, it feels more like a burden.”
 
“The Lord does not see him as a burden, he sees him as Precious.”
 
Lovette laughed. “Do you even know what Down’s syndrome is at all?”
 
“I don’t know much”
 
“Exactly what I thought. Perhaps if you did, you would be a little more realistic.” She was now angry.
 
“The Lord knows all about this syndrome, he knows all about Precious’ life and yet he calls him precious. Lovette, you need to start seeing your son through God’s eyes.”
 
Lovette stared at Aunty Hauwa, her nostrils flaring and tears dribbling down her face. “You should spend some time on the internet, researching on this condition.”
 
“I will be doing that all through the night.”
 
Lovette forced a grim smile. “Great. Tomorrow, we can have a real conversation. Right now, I need to sleep.”
 
Just then, Precious started crying. Lovette clenched her jaws and let out a long suffering sigh as though a pesky stalker was darkening her doorstep again. She walked to the cot with quick, angry steps, picked up the baby, unhooked her brassier and put her areola in his mouth, all the while carefully avoiding his face. His nursing was a task, he had poor sucking reflexes, that too came with his condition.
 
“Lovette, being a mother is a privilege, a ministry, a noble calling that is not given to all who desire it. That which you are handling like a buzzing fly around your ears, is what some of us have always prayed to have, and never got.”
 
She slipped on her footwear and walked out of Lovette’s room.
 
In the silence that followed, Lovette heard Aunty Hauwa’s words in her mind.
 
You don’t exactly sound happy that your son is not dead.
 
And then she knew, that secretly in her heart of hearts, she wished that Mojoyin had successfully buried Precious. At least that way, she could play righteous and put all the blame on Andrew, never feel this flustering burden that came with the child, and move on with her life. Now, she literally held in her hands the stark radiograph of her heart and what she saw was far from beautiful.
 
The baby stopped sucking and Lovette pulled down her top. She looked at the child, there was a strong unfathomable stirring in her and she began yet again, her helpless cry.
 
“Lord I need you, I confess to you oh Lord my need of you.”
 
At that point, in the corner of Aunty Hauwa’s dank guest room, with Precious in her arms, sobs in her throat and fast descending tears on her face, Lovette poured out her heart to the Lord, confessed the wickedness of her own heart and asked for forgiveness. When words stopped, she picked up with praying in tongues and communing with her father in tears.
 
The peace that pervaded her heart thereafter, the joy, the strength, the hope, made her wonder why she had needlessly borne her pain when she had a wonderful friend in Jesus, a friend all too willing to bear her burdens. Her tears now were those of gratitude.
 
Aunty Hauwa sat in the study, her laptop open before her, her brown-rimmed glasses pushed down the bridge of her nose, a lamp flooding her table with light, her feet tapping on the carpeted ground and article after article she studied on Down’s syndrome. As she read, she cried, she interceded for Lovette and Andrew, she was able to commiserate with them. At a point, she stopped and bowed her head, overwhelmed.
 
“Lord, how can this young couple handle this? Ho-”
 
“Lord, you are so good! Lord you are so good!”
 
The hearty songs of praise coming from Lovette’s room stopped Aunty Hauwa. Crying wrenchingly she sang along in a voice subdued by sobs and then, she picked herself up and continued with her research.
 
Whenever she saw something that seemed insurmountable, she reminded herself that The Lord is stronger than whatever Down’s syndrome had to throw at Lovette, Andrew and Precious, that The Lord has this covered, he has it figured out, completely.
 
 
Question for the week
 
What should a believer do when a stinking rich person that she’s sure is not God’s will for her, is hot on her tail. Please, let’s make our answers as practical as possible.
 
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 harshtags #CFCDown and#CFCDowntheconversation. Please participate, your opinion matters a great deal.
 
Instagram – @official_mophie
Facebook- Goodness Adegbola
Twitter- @AdegbolaMo
 
 
 
NEXT ON DOWN
 
He was still talking with Uncle Barns when the light flashing on his phone screen caught his attention. His eyes caught a notification of a message from ‘Love’ and he started, snatched up his phone and took a pause to consider. He drew a steadying breath as he wondered what the worst content on the text could be. It was a link. He tapped on it and for the next ten minutes, he was absorbed by the story, complete subsumed in another world, the Smith’s world.
 
Rick Smith’s perspective of his own son, Noah, his unflinching love for the child right from the start hit Andrew like a sledgehammer blow in the gut. He saw himself again, and he burst into tears. Was this why Lovette sent the link? To again remind him of his cruelty?
 
Barnabas watched Andrew wordlessly, waiting for him to say something. But when he lifted his eyes from the phone, he only made a phone call. Barnabas saw his eyes fill up before he could turn them away.
 
“Lovette, I’ve read the story. I realize my mistake. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please come home… please come back home”
“Hey, hang on. I think I should be the one begging you to come back home. Where on earth are you?”
 
Andrew paused, blinking. “You are at home?”
 
“You don’t want me to be?”
 
He panted and in between his rushed breathing he chuckled. “Don’t move. I would be with you in a bit. In a really tiny bit.” He was already on his feet, grabbing his car keys from atop Uncle Barns round dining table. He ran off without remembering to say good bye to Barnabas. Barnabas smiled
 
He entered his room to meet Lovette unpacking. She turned a smile to him.
 
“Your wife is back”
 
“Wow! I don’t even know what to say”
 
“How about welcome?”
 
Andrew laughed in a nervous rush before he swiftly crossed the room and swooped down on her with a tight hug.
 
“Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry, I-”
 
“Shhh…” She said hugging him back. “It’s fine. Together, we will pull through”
 
Andrew disengaged from the hug.
 
He went to his baby’s crib that was beautifully set up in a corner of their room and watched him, keenly, closely, lovingly. How could he have thought of this bundle of grace as an alien? He forced down tears. His fingers moved to carry Precious but he stopped himself, he was not going to push his luck.
 
He turned to his wife. “Can I?”
 
“You don’t need anyone’s permission to be the father of your own son.”
 
There it was. His redemption, his restoration, Lovette had now restored his license to be Precious’ father. He could back the tears no more.
 
“I lost that right when I wished him dead.”
 
“So did I” Lovette confessed with tears in her eyes. “When the mask of my self-righteousness slipped off, I saw that I was not much different from you. God chose us for him, and still kept him with us in spite of our cruel hearts and acts.”
 
Andrew sighed. “Thank God for the holy spirit, we don’t have to live under the deceitfulness of our hearts any longer”
 
He scooped up the swathed bundle that his son was in one supple move. As he held him close, his heart blessed him. Lovette stood behind him, holding his waist.
 
He dropped the child carefully and turned to his wife. They stood staring into each other’s eyes for seconds before Andrew’s eyes caught the painting on the wall.
 
“Lovette, there’s been something on my mind”
 
“What is it?” Her eyes were alert, serious, the mush that was in them gone.
 
“Are ostrich eggs that big or did the artist just overdo?” He pointed to the painting and Lovette laughed, he too laughed.
 
“You are not serious at all.”
 
“Oh, I-”
 
His statement died as Lovette stood on her toes to press her lips against his. His passion that was bubbling right under the surface came to fore.
 
She drew back and said “You talk too much,” before she leaned in for a more passionate kiss. As he enjoyed it, he remembered the last time he was silenced with a kiss and he knew he had to tell her all about Bimpe immediately, like he agreed to do while he discussed with Uncle Barns.
 
He stepped back.
 
“What is it?” She searched his eyes.
 
“I need to tell you something”
 
“Something about ostriches?” Lovette joked.
 
Andrew sighed and looked down.
 
“Oh, this seems serious”
 

4 Comments

  1. You are just soo annoying…. I dare you to interrupt my reading one more time.
    This series has been really thought provoking, but more than that; it is a mirror, reflecting the posture of our individual minds. Whilst I read, I carefully saw and realized my own tendencies in all the characters (well, except Precious, uncle Emma and Oga Philemon ).
    Thanks Goodness, you have put a lot of aphorisms in these posts. God bless you!!

  2. Great work, boss! Reading this was enjoyable and filled with lessons.
    I like the scene with Angela and the kids. I’m guessing that it was Goodness that whispered to them some of the things they said 🙂
    Sadly, it seems that Lily was abused. I really hope not.
    Thank God for people like Aunty Hauwa. We need people like that in our lives.
    QUESTION OF THE WEEK
    What should a believer do when a stinking rich person that she’s sure is not God’s will for her, is hot on her tail. Please, let’s make our answers as practical as possible.
    To be practical, it is going to be difficult to say No. But that is exactly what she must do. We must be careful of the Esau Syndrome – trading away God’s lifelong gift in order to satisfy a short-term appetite.
    A spouse is a gift from God meant to last the entire life of an individual. It must not be traded away because of short-term things like money.
    Just like Bimpe learnt, money is not everything. It is important, but it is not everything.

    1. Author

      Thank you very much sir. This is very true. Money is important, but it’s not everything. Goodness is innocent.. 😃

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