CHAPTER FOUR
Under the silver moon
Am I depressed?
I asked myself after I have spent hours staring at a blank Microsoft word page trying to write something for my blog but I couldn’t even find the words.
My head felt empty but also not empty because it was filled with less of story ideas for my blog but more of what is happening to me and trying to figure out what I did to deserve this kind of treatment.
It has been more than a week since the match with Borussia Dortmund and Kylian has not come home nor have I been able to go outside. That bitch locked me in and no matter what I tried, she never let me out. All she said was I should wait for Kylian.
Slapping my head hard and taking a sharp intake
“You can do this, Bewaji” I tried to pet talk myself into writing but I got nothing. Closing my laptop in annoyance, I have to be depressed. Writing has always come easy for me, depression has to be the only explanation for the writer’s block I am experiencing right now.
I removed my eye glasses in defeat, picked up my phone and played music. BTS's airplane pt 2 blast out through my phone as I strolled out of my bedroom to the terrace in my night robe barefooted. Placing my hand on balcony trying to enjoy the view before me as the sun set again but I couldn’t even do that because my head is heavy.
It felt like there is a battle going on in my head with the confusion and numbers of unanswered questions I have. What is happening to me? Why won’t my husband come see me? Am I married to myself? Why can’t I even go outside? Is something wrong with me?
I was dragged out of my head by loud blast of my ringtone. I went back into my bedroom and picked up my phone.
My heart dropped when I saw Mama as the caller ID.
What will I tell her again? With how heavy my head is right now, I can’t even come up with an excuse as to why Kylian won’t talk to them. I throw the phone on bed and went back out where I flung myself into the swimming pool. I have been doing that recently when I don’t want to think about anything. Lucky for me, the pool is not deep, so all I just do is sit in it and watch the sun set.
I slowly went under the water
I should tell them the truth, I am sure they can help me fix this but how can I tell my parent that I haven’t seen my own husband since I arrived over a week ago and the closest I have been to him is through the 72 inches flat screen in my bedroom. It shows I can’t even take care of my home.
My Mama told me to always be submissive and respectful towards my husband. I should never make him feel like I am trying to be his boss but at the same time, I should use my submissiveness to make him dance to my tune. He may be the head of the house but if he can’t take any important step without my advice and input… maybe even my approval, that makes me the head of the house indirectly
I frantically come up for air seconds later, how can I to tell Mama that I failed to make him even see me, I am a failure, aren’t I?
Ahh! My head hurt.
Not picking her call for one day won’t hurt, I will find an excuse for her tomorrow.
GOALLLLLLL
I was pulled out of my dreamless sleep with loud holler of what I would call the voice of every French man and woman in Paris. Looking up at the sky, I saw the silver moon out and watching over the street of Paris. Judging from that loud yell, the match has already started and I slept off. I rushed out of the swimming pool into the bedroom with water dripping everywhere, switched on the TV and dashed into the closet to change out of my wet clothes
Seconds later, I settled on my bed before the big screen where I saw my husband’s handsome face like I had been doing since the last time I saw him in Nigeria. A home game with Lorient fc, which meant my husband was only a few miles away from me but he just won’t see me. If he had not given me that bitch’s number himself, I would said I had been kidnapped but he gave me her number which implied that he is aware of what is happening. He is in on it and maybe even gave the order to have me imprisoned.
But I cannot fathom why he would marry me only to imprison me, it just makes no sense. There has to be an explanation for this, a very good one because that is the only thing keeping me from telling my parent
and.... also, there is the fear of been called a failure.
I watch him bark orders to his teammates as their captain. I must say he looks so sexy doing that. I really won’t mind him using that tone with me on the bed. Sighing out loudly, I guess that is not going to happen for a long time.
Within a twinkle of an eye, my husband was on the floor holding his leg in pain. Standing up with a fright, what the fuck just happened. The VAR replayed the event and I saw the other team’s player deliberately hit his leg just to stop him from getting to the goal post
“That is a foul” I yelled out loud to no one. I tried to calm my shaking body as I watch the team’s medical team carry my husband out on a stretcher in tears. I have never seen Kylian in tears before, not even when his country lost world cup last year. The pain must be so bad.
I have to see him, I need to see him, I have to be by his side. I rushed out of my bedroom to the living room hoping to find the assistant but she was not here. I dashed to her room, banging on the door.
“Open the door, Kylian is injured, I need to see him” I cried but I got no response. “Open the door, please, I want to see my husband” I went on banging on the door even though my hand was on fire. After ten minutes of banging the door non-stop, I ran to the elevator hoping to get it open even though I knew it wasn't going to work. I went back to my bedroom to watch the match again, hoping to see Kylian but she was nowhere to be found. The captain band has been passed to another team mate. The realisation that Kylian is not coming back to play tonight broke my heart and brought tears to my eyes
“His injury must be so bad” I said to myself cleaning off the tears that had been falling without my permission. Picking up my cell phone, I dialled the assistant’s number praying fervently with my heart, soul and spirit that she would pick up… and she did, after a couple of calls
“What is it?” She questioned me with a hard voice
“I have been banging on your door, why haven’t you been answering” I asked breaking into more tears
“What do you want?”
“Kylian is hurt, I need to…” I interrupted by the shout of another goal both from the phone and on the TV in front of me but this time a win for the other team. Why am I hearing goal from the other end of the call?
Is she at the stadium?
“Fuck” she uttered in annoyance confirming my suspicion. I don’t think I have felt the kind of anger that is currently brewing inside of me
“Did you lock me in?”
“What do you need?”
“Did you lock me inside and went to the stadium?” then she cut the call. I opened my mouth in utter confusion as I just stared at my phone. I thought we both were not allowed to go out, I guess I was wrong. I was the only prisoner in this place
I sat in the living room staring hard at the elevator, if my hard stare could open that door, it would have already. It has been 30 minutes since the end of the match, it was a draw.
But why is she not back yet?
She is definitely coming back, I know that much. She is a baby sitter and baby sitters don’t leave babies alone for a long time.
I can’t believe I just called myself a baby
But what is taking her so long? Maybe she is checking on Kylian, which is a good thing.
The elevator opened and she came in
“How is he?” I demanded to know but she ignored like she always does “I am talking to you”
“I heard you” she dropped the nylon on the dining table “That is dinner” she turned and walked towards her bedroom. I followed
“You locked me in”
“I did, what are you are going to do about it… report me to your hubby and have me fired” she smirked.
God, I want nothing more than to slap that smug off her face. But at the moment, I just want to see my husband. So, I am practically at her mercy
“I want to see my husband, take me to him please” I pleaded with her. She just scoffed and continued walking
“Don’t you get it” I screamed with tears falling from my eyes which is so embarrassing but at this point, I can’t think of my dignity. I need to know that my husband is okay
“I am sure you have someone you love and you can’t bear to see him hurt. Please, it is like that for me, I need to know that my husband is okay, please help me see him” I begged pathetically
“Don’t you get it, he does not want to see you” she uttered with indifference and entered her room, practically banged the door in my face like she always does.
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT SATURDAY
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