CHAPTER NINETY-SIX
Paths and Dreams
I nervously
tapped my left foot on the ground as I stared at the door to Dr Berot's office,
as if that would open it for me. Soon, the door opened, and an elderly woman
came out clutching her purse with one hand while the other held the tissue she
had used to wipe the tears from her eyes.
Seriously, is Dr Berot making everybody cry?
A few seconds
later, the culprit came out of her office and smiled when she saw me. She
beckoned me in, and I followed her. Inside the office, she walked to the small
fridge and bent to open its door.
"There was nothing to go back to," I blurted out nervously. The doctor looked at me in confusion.
"What?"
she asked as she brought out two bottles of water.
"You
asked me why I stayed." She gently strode back to her seat and sat down.
"I had nothing to go back to. That was why I stayed."
There was
silence as she stared at me like she always did.
"Hello
to you too, Bewaji," she said in a calm voice, and I sighed heavily.
"I am
sorry." I ran my hand through the braid Marcus had insisted I make because
my hair had already been looking like a mad woman's. "It was just that you
made such a big deal about the question at our last session. I stayed because
there was nothing for me to go back to in Nigeria. There was no big, gigantic,
heart-wrenching reason why I stayed."
Then she
smiled brightly and let out a few chuckles.
"Have a seat, Bewaji," she said. I let out a few breaths and sat down.
"And how
have you been since our last session?" she asked, and I responded
immediately.
"Not
good. I have not been good. I have spent the last two weeks wondering why I
stayed with Kylian, and it has not been pretty."
"And the
answer you came up with was that you had nothing to go back to?" she
asked, tilting her head ever so slightly, her voice carrying a hint of
disbelief that immediately rubbed me the wrong way. She made it sound as though
my answer was rehearsed rather than real.
"I...
Was my answer not good enough for you?" I stuttered defensively. "You
think I made it up because I did not. I put so much thought into it."
She raised a
hand, gently but firmly, stopping me before I could spiral any further.
"Calm
down, Bewaji. I am not fighting you."
I swallowed
hard, forcing myself to take a slow, steady breath. The knot in my chest
loosened just enough for me to sink back into my seat, my shoulders relaxing as
I realised I had mistaken her question for an attack.
"But it
felt like it," I uttered in a low voice.
"I am
sorry if I made you feel that way," she apologised. "My job here is
to make you feel better."
"What
are you talking about? I don't want to feel better," I cut in. "I am
here so you can fix my broken self."
"Okay,"
she agreed, and I looked away from her.
Silence
settled between us, thick and suffocating. I fixed my gaze on a spot across the
room, willing the moment to pass. When I finally looked back, she was still
watching me, her eyes steady, searching, as though she could see every thought
I had. A knot tightened in my stomach. I was going to hate whatever question
came next. This was my chance to get the hell out of there.
"You
said you had a job in another city in Nigeria, yeah?" she finally said.
Fuck! Where is she going with this?
Her
expression didn't change. She simply held my gaze, waiting. Every nerve in my
body tensed. My mind raced through every possible angle her question could
take, and I hated every single one of them. She wasn't making conversation. She
was building towards something, laying bricks I could not yet see.
And I had a
sinking feeling I was not going to like where they led.
"Yes,"
I nodded cautiously.
"What
were you doing?"
"I was
an academic," I answered.
"Really?"
she sounded surprised. "You were a professor?"
"No."
I shook my head. "But I was working while pursuing my PhD."
"Wow!"
Her eyebrows shot up before a warm smile spread across her face. "I didn't
expect that. I thought your dream was to become a world-renowned screenwriter."
For a fleeting moment, I forgot we were in therapy. The corners of my lips
twitched, caught somewhere between a smile and a sigh.
"Yes, it
was my dream, but that was just it, a dream. It didn't pay the bills."
"I
understand... so, what was your work like?" Before I could answer,
memories slipped in uninvited, and I felt myself smile.
Ibadan.
The city that
had become home. The long nights spent poring over reports, racing against
deadlines. The endless fieldwork that left me sunburnt and exhausted but
somehow fulfilled. The early morning departures, the long drives from one
community to another, the conversations with farmers whose resilience never
ceased to amaze me. The friendships forged on dusty roads, the laughter during
road trips, the quiet satisfaction of knowing that, in some small way, my work
mattered.
For the first
time since I'd walked into her office, the ache in my chest eased.
"From
your smile, I should take it that you enjoyed your job," Dr Berot said.
"Yes, I
loved it. It was fun. I loved research. When I got the job, for the first time,
I knew what I was going to do with my life. I was going to become a MEAL expert
in my field. Compared to fantasising about a life with Kylian or becoming a
world-renowned screenwriter, this was achievable. It was within my grasp."
My voice grew steadier with every word. "As long as I put in the work, I
could achieve it, and I was ready to do the work."
She smiled as
she nodded. "If you had stayed back, where would you be now?"
I leaned back
and looked up at the ceiling, imagining the life I'd left behind.
"I would
definitely be a doctor now, maybe be on a fellowship, or I might be doing my
postdoc. I was considering England, Germany, France...."
"France?"
she interjected, the single word rising an octave.
"Yes."
I nodded.
"Why?"
she inquired in her know-it-all voice.
Oh fuck!
My eyes
drifted back to hers. The way she said it made my stomach sink. She had caught
something, and whatever she was about to ask next, I had a feeling it was not
going to be about my career.
She knew what
my answer was going to be. The moment the word left my mouth, I saw it in her
eyes. She knew exactly where she was leading me, and I had walked straight into
it. I should have left when I had the chance. Instead, I stayed, and now I was
trapped in the very conversation I had been trying to avoid.
"I
wanted to meet Kylian," I admitted, my voice noticeably quieter. "So
France was high up my list."
"So, you
had a plan?"
The warmth
that had settled over me while talking about my work disappeared. Anger began
to simmer beneath my skin.
"Yes, I
did!" I shouted, my voice cracking under the weight of everything I'd been
holding back. "And I had so many things to get back to. I lied. Are you
happy now?"
The room fell
silent.
Suddenly,
realisation hit me like a punch to the chest. I had just contradicted the very
answer I had defended only minutes earlier. My eyes found hers, and I hated
that she hadn't had to say a single word.
"Can we
continue?" she asked softly.
"Yes." I nodded, unable to meet her eyes. She was quiet for a moment before speaking.
"Your
answer was right. I was wrong."
"What?"
"I
thought you were trying to avoid the real reason, as you always do, but you did
not." She leaned back slightly. "You really gave it a lot of thought,
and there was really nothing left for you in Nigeria. You stayed because you
had already achieved your dream."
A fog of
confusion enveloped me.
"What are you talking about?" She closed her notepad and placed it on the table.
"You pined for your husband for a very long time, and you must have thought it was because you had nothing going for you. And perhaps, for a while, that was true." She pauses, watching me carefully.
"But the moment you found a direction... your plans quietly began bending towards him." I squeeze my eyes shut, a headache beginning to bloom behind them.
"I don't
understand you."
"An academic with years of research experience, the logical next step was a PhD, followed by a postdoctoral fellowship. It would strengthen your CV and position you for the career you wanted." I nod impatiently.
"But somewhere along the way, your career stopped being just a career. It became the bridge." My stomach tightens.
"The
bridge to what?"
"To
him."
I let out a
humourless laugh.
"If this
is because I said France was high up the list, I was considering other
countries, Germany, England...."
"Why
didn't you consider the US or
China? I know for a façt, those two countries have the strongest research programmes in the world.
They might even have offered more opportunities. Why only the European
countries?"
Rattled, I fumbled. "I... I don't... I don't know. They didn't come to mind."
"Of
course they didn't come to mind, because they don't have what the European
countries have."
"And
what would that be?" I ask.
"A close proximity to Kylian"
"What?"
My brow furrowed.
"If
France became impossible, England or Germany still gave you a chance. They are close to France. You could travel and see him play st least once a year in a stadium"
"No,
that was not my reason." I shake my head immediately.
"Then, give me another reason? I am human, I can be wrong" She challenged me. I racked my brain for a reason but nothing was forthcoming. There has to be a reason why I chose those countries
"Bewa...."
"Give me a minute" I cut in sharply "It will to come me"
Come on, think. Any reason, come on!
"Why did you want to become a MEAL expert?"
"What?" I looked at her in bafflement. Where is she going with this again?
"Do you need to think about it?"
"No, I wanted to help" I retorted instantly
"Good, the fact that you need to think about the reason why you chose that country say a lot"
"You don't get it" I yelled
"Bewa..."
"Those were my plans, I made them for myself, i wasn't thinking about any other person but myself. There was no way I was planning my life around one man"
"Consciously, you were not but subconsciously, I think you were doing just that" she says gently.
It can't be.
It couldn't be.
"What
your marriage did was cut off
all of those plans and fast-forward you to the dream you were unconsciously
building towards."
I stare at
her, unable to speak.
"The PhD. The fellowship. Becoming a MEAL expert. Becoming a world-renowned screenwriter." She smiles gently. "Those dreams mattered. They were real. But they all existed within a bigger picture." Her eyes soften.
"It was Kylian." The room suddenly feels too small, and I open my mouth to protest, but no words come.
"So when
I asked why you stayed... your first answer wasn't a lie." She folds her
hands in her lap.
"You
believed there was nothing left for you in Nigeria because, in your mind,
everything you had been working towards had finally converged. The career was a
path. The PhD was a path. The postdoctoral plans were a path."
She holds my
gaze.
"And at
the end of that path... was the life you imagined with Kylian."
I can't
breathe.
"You
stayed," she whispers, "because you believed you'd already reached
your destination."
"You
pined for your husband for a very long time, and you must have thought it was
because you had nothing going for you. And perhaps, for a while, that was
true."
She paused,
watching me carefully.
"But the
moment you found a direction... your plans quietly began bending towards
him."
I squeezed my
eyes shut, a headache beginning to bloom behind them.
"I don't
understand you."
"An
academic with years of research experience, the logical next step was a PhD,
followed by a postdoctoral fellowship. It would strengthen your CV and position
you for the career you wanted."
I nodded
impatiently.
"But
somewhere along the way, your career stopped being just a career. It became the
bridge."
My stomach
tightened.
"The
bridge to what?"
"To him." I let out a humourless laugh.
"If this
is because I said France was high up the list, I was considering other
countries—Germany, England...."
"Why
didn't you consider the US or China? Those two countries have the strongest
research programmes in the world. They might even have offered more
opportunities. Why only the European countries?"
Rattled, I
fumbled.
"I... I
don't... I don't know. They didn't come to mind."
"Of
course they didn't come to mind, because they don't have what the European
countries have."
"And
what would that be?" I asked.
"A close proximity to Kylian"
"What?" My brow furrowed.
"If France became impossible, England or Germany still gave you a chance. They are close to France. You could travel and see him play st least once a year in a stadium"
"No, that was not my reason." I shake my head immediately.
"Then, give me another reason? I am human, I can be wrong" She challenged me and I racked my brain for a reason but nothing was forthcoming. There has to be a reason why I chose those countries
"Bewa...."
"Give me a minute" I cut in sharply "It will to come me" Come on, think. Any reason, come on!
"Why did you want to become a MEAL expert?"
"What?" I looked at her in bafflement. Where is she going with this again?
"Do you need to think about it too?"
"No, I wanted to help" I retorted instantly
"Good, the fact that you need to think about the reason why you chose that country say a lot"
"You don't get it" I yelled
"Bewa..."
"Those were my plans, I made them for myself, I wasn't thinking about any other person but myself. There was no way I was planning my life around one man"
"Consciously, you were not but subconsciously, I think you were doing just that" she says gently.
It can't be.
It couldn't be.
"What
your marriage did was cut off all of those plans and fast-forward you to the
dream you were unconsciously building towards." I stared at her, unable to
speak.
"The
PhD. The fellowship. Becoming a MEAL expert. Becoming a world-renowned
screenwriter." She smiled gently. "Those dreams mattered. They were
real. But they all existed within a bigger picture."
Her eyes
softened.
"It was
Kylian." The room suddenly felt too small, and I opened my mouth to
protest, but no words came.
"So when
I asked why you stayed... your first answer wasn't a lie." She folded her
hands in her lap.
"You
believed there was nothing left for you in Nigeria because, in your mind,
everything you had been working towards had finally converged. The career was a
path. The PhD was a path. The postdoctoral plans were a path."
She held my
gaze.
"And at
the end of that path... was the life you imagined with Kylian." I couldn't
breathe. "You stayed," she whispered, "because you believed
you'd already reached your destination."
TO BE CONTINUED ON NEXT SATURDAY, 9.00PM WAT.
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