Love In the Time Of Buhari [Chapter 11]

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It was a running joke in the house that Editi was an ugly pregnant woman. She was barely three months pregnant and her nose had started being swollen.

She had stopped doing house chores. Abas did most of them and most times, she’d watch her on her phone via Buhari the camera. She’d started trusting her husband. She never for once, caught him staring at her.

The evening Nneoma and her husband returned from London, Editi and Akwang were sitting on their veranda in their pyjamas and flip flops.

When the taxi man drove in, they tried to guess who it was until the taxi drove to Nneoma’s car garage.

Editi smiled.

“Your friend is back,” Akwang said. “It seems that’s her husband,” he said as they watched Nneoma and Jackson alight from the car.

“Let me help them carry their luggage in,” Editi said.

“No, don’t worry, just follow me, I’ll do that,” Akwang said, as he stood to his feet and walked to them.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

“Oh Mr. and Mrs…” Nneoma said smiling. “Baby,” she turned to Jackson, “That’s Editi’s husband.”

Jackson shook hands with Akwang. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mister.”

“Thank you sir. How was your trip?” Akwang asked.

The women held each other’s hands and began to mutter words, while Akwang carried the boxes from the boot of the car and kept them on the veranda.

“I bought you designer’s gowns from London,” Nneoma said happily, “My husband chose them, they’re quite big, you may shape them if they don’t size you.”

“Oh well, I’ll be grateful if they’re bigger.”

Nneoma looked at her doubtfully.

“They are UK sizes fourteen and sixteen and you’re probably twelve, those were the best dresses I could see,” she said, looking at Editi from her head to her feet.  “You’ve changed, well, maybe it’s because I barely know how your body works, and I barely know you too.”

“Good news is about breaking!” Editi said excitedly. “I’m glad you got sizes fourteen and sixteen, they will suit me perfectly in the next six months.”

Nneoma ran her forefinger under her eyes as if she thought she’d smudged her mascara.

“Oh yes, I’ll be leaving for work tomorrow. Do you play PS games?” Jackson asked Akwang.”

“Sure,” Akwang replied.

“Let’s go in and let the women talk,” Jackson said as he paid off the cab man, and slammed the door.

Editi and Nneoma were left alone outside.

“You said something before my husband’s loud voice interrupted,” Nneoma said.

Editi closed her eyes. “I’m pregnant! So the dresses might just be perfect on me later on.”

Nneoma’s heart fell. She smiled. A smile that wasn’t genuine at all. It almost seemed like a grin. A forced grin.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed and hugged Editi. “This news should bring my own joy.”

“Amen. It will Nneoma,” Editi held her hands. “I will tell you what I did.” She held her hands and sat her down on the veranda. Nneoma’s eyes had started becoming teary.

When everywhere was quiet, and all they could hear was the loud exciting screams  from Jackson and Akwang who seemed to get along so well; Editi held her hands and said in soft whispers, “I allowed myself. I took anxiety off my mind and I made love to my husband without being desperate to be pregnant,” she said a forced smile, her face was as if she wanted to cry.

Nneoma nodded. She wondered if Editi saw the coldness. She couldn’t fake being happy. It was obvious she was sad.

“My husband makes love so well, I took advantage of that and allowed myself to be used by him.”

Nneoma chuckled. “Jackson…” She stammered. “Jackson is horrible in bed,” she shrugged in disgust.

“Then teach him,” Editi retorted.

“Teach a man who is up to fifty years of age how to make love to his wife?” she asked, looking surprised.

“Yes Nneoma, yes.”

“I hate to say this Editi,” she said as she ran her long painted red nails on her green blonde hair, “I have lost it for Jackson.”

“Lost what?”

“The love, the emotions, the feelings. Everything is gone. Look at me, I am fertile, I can swear I am. I run all types of tests. I have taken pills and supplements from China, India and America. Even native herbs. My mother in-law took me to a woman who used bottles to massage my belly,” she giggled, “She claimed she was trying to put my womb in place. The pains were just unbearable. I cried and cried.”

“Has Jackson ever gone for fertility test or sperm analysis?” Editi asked.

“We did sperm analysis in London. Just last week at Croydon after we had a serious fight.”

“And he was fine?”

Nneoma nodded. “Certainly,” she muttered.

Editi sensed the sadness in her tone, she knew that the news of her pregnancy had broken her friend’s heart.

Next Chapter: |Chapter 12|

Complete Chapters:

|Chapter 1||Chapter 2||Chapter 3||Chapter 4||Chapter 5||Chapter 6||Chapter 7||Chapter 8||Chapter 9||Chapter 10||Chapter 11||Chapter 12||Chapter 13||Chapter 14||Chapter 15||Chapter 16||Chapter 17||Chapter 18||Chapter 19||Chapter 20||Chapter 21||Chapter 22||Chapter 23||Chapter 24||Chapter 25||Chapter 26||Chapter 27||Chapter 28|