A STORY OF LOVE AND DEATH

A STORY OF LOVE AND DEATH – By Nwachukwu Obinna

The saddened expression on his face is incomprehensible. As we sat in the waiting room of the firm waiting for our client, I noticed he shook his head slowly and repeatedly.

“What’s wrong,” I asked for the third time. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I don’t know Amy, I don’t know what to say,” he replied.

“You know you can share it with me Bubu. You know you can talk to me.” I said as I caressed his lap with my left hand.

He looked up at me. From his eyes, I could tell that he’d been crying for hours. “It’s Chika, my wife,” he said.

“Chika…?” I asked. “What…is she alright. What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s dead!”

“What!”

“She slipped and fell from the stairs last night while we were having a fight.” He sniffled. “She’s gone, Amy. And it was my fault,”

“Wow! I’m so sorry Bubu. Didn’t you rush her to the hospital?”

“I did… The Doctor said it was late already. She suffered a severe bleeding inside her brain.”

“Wow…Bubu, I really don’t know what to say… I’m very sorry.

“Why didn’t you stay at home then… I mean, I could have covered for you. For Christ’s sake, this is your wife we are talking about!”

“I couldn’t,” he replied. “I was scared. I slept at Humphrey’s apartment last night.

“The house is just too empty.”

***

Storried A Story of Love and Death

The rest of the day became strange. From the desk where I sat, I could see him. He seemed distracted, less focused and different from his usual self. Bubu the most jovial of us staffs is now torpid. I didn’t know what to do. He had refused to share it with the rest of our colleagues. He felt it’s too soon and he wouldn’t want Mr. Jonathan forcing him to take a break.

After the close of work, I rushed over to him. Tried to cheer him up a bit as what’s done is done. But he bluntly refused my advances. He said he needed to be alone.

James my husband sensed my unhappiness. It’d been two weeks after Bubu’s wife’s burial but things hadn’t gone back to the way it was between us. Bubu’s distance became increasingly demoralizing as the day went by. ‘Was I being avoided,’ I thought repeatedly to myself. But it was a selfish assumption. This was a man who just lost his wife. And worst of it all was that he was suffering from compunction.

Days went by and became weeks. And weeks turned into months. But there wasn’t any improvement. James frequently asked what the matter was. What was the reason for my depression? I never replied because I didn’t know what to say. How could I have told him that my colleague with whom I’ve had repeated sexual relations with, the one who lost his wife a few months ago is still avoiding me?

***

It was on a Monday morning. The road was quiet even though there were pedestrians and moving vehicles. The clamors of hawkers, the sound from the horns of trailers and the repeated wails of bus conductors were like whispers to me.

“What’s wrong,” Bubu asked after I entered the office that morning. He had noticed my gloomy countenance. He dragged me away from prying eyes. “What’s the problem?” he asked again.

“It’s James,” I managed to reply.

“What…, what happened with James.”

“He’s dead!”

“What!” He exclaimed. Then after a brief pause, his expression changed. “Em…Amy,” he said. “Maybe it’s a good thing.”

I gave him a shocking look.

“No no, don’t get me wrong! I mean, with my wife gone and your husband gone too… Don’t you think its a sign… I mean, maybe we are meant to be together.”

I was speechless. I couldn’t reply. Because I didn’t know how to tell him that my husband James died as a result of the poison I gave him last night.

 

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A STORY OF LOVE AND DEATH

By Nwachukwu Obinna

The saddened expression on his face is incomprehensible. As we sat in the waiting room of the firm waiting for our client, I noticed he shook his head slowly and repeatedly.

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