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It wasn't just my mother who was opposed to my union with Frank.
Expectedly, his wife did not want anything to do with me and swore that it
would be over 'her dead body for her to share her home with that husband
snatcher' as she referred to me.
But I was not concerned about her for Frank had assured me, he
would sort things out with her. It was my mother that bothered me more. She
remained adamant in her opposition to my marrying Frank. She distanced herself
from the marriage preparations and refused to play her role as the mother of
the bride. I felt bad at her attitude, seeing her as a bad mother who did not
want her child's happiness.
'Enemy of progress,' I grumbled to myself on several occasions.
To make matters worse, on the day Frank and his people came to my
house for the engagement and payment of the bride price, my mother was nowhere to be
found. She simply disappeared! It was one of my aunties, her younger sister who
stood in for her as the bride's mother.
The ceremony went well, however and Frank and I became man
and wife. I immediately moved into my new home with my husband and a new life
began for me. What about his first wife, you might wonder. Well, the woman had
in anger, moved out of her matrimonial home with her daughter. Frank told me
that she had declared she would rather stay under one of the numerous bridges
in Lagos than share her home with me.
To me, it was 'good riddance to her' and I happily took over
the house as the new 'madam.' By this time, I was already about six months
pregnant. A month before my due date to deliver, Frank sent me abroad to stay
and prepare for the birth. It was there I had my beautiful baby boy whom Frank
named Philip after his father who was late.
To mark the birth of his much longed for son, Frank threw a
lavish party at our home on my return from the U.K. I still remember that day
like it was yesterday. I felt so happy, so proud as I held my baby in my arms,
with the numerous guests trooping in to congratulate me and drop money and
gifts for the baby.
As for my husband, his love for me seemed to have increased a
hundred fold and he couldn't do enough for me. He gave me so many gifts
including some very expensive jewelry. And to top it up, he bought me a house.
I was at home one day, nursing the baby when he arrived from the office with a
large brown envelope which he dropped by my seat.
"What's this?" I asked, looking at him curiously.
"Why don't you open it and see," he replied, smiling as
he sat in a nearby chair.
I hurriedly opened it and when I saw the deeds to the property in
my name, I almost dropped the baby out of shock.
"Hey! Careful. Don't drop my little boy," he said,
coming over to take the baby from me. He had fallen asleep so Frank placed him
in his little crib.
"Oh, Frank! Is this really for me? So, I'm a landlady now!
Thanks so much, honey! I really love you...!" I said excitedly, going over
to hug him so tight, he jokingly said I should stop before 'I broke his bones!'
Losing my baby
Little Phillip was about two years old when the tragedy that
turned my otherwise happy life upside down occurred. We had a swimming pool
behind the house as Frank loved to swim. Though I could swim, I preferred
sitting by the poolside in a deck chair with a cold drink, watching as he frolicked
in the water with a friend or two that usually came over on weekends to hang
out with him.
That day, I was alone in the house as my husband had gone to work.
I went down to the pool, not to swim, but just sit and read a magazine. Later,
Phillip, who had been taking a nap upstairs woke up and the maid brought him
down to join me. I played for a while with my baby, then went into the house to
do something, I can't remember now. The maid was with Phillip so I felt he was
safe.
Some minutes later, I heard a piercing scream and abandoning what
I was doing ran quickly downstairs. It was a horrible sight that met my eyes:
my precious son had drowned in the pool!
From the incoherent statement the sobbing maid made, I gathered
she had left him briefly to get something from the kitchen and he had fallen
into the pool in her absence.
I could remember screaming and shouting, and I was even ready to
drown along with him if I had not been restrained by one of our drivers who was
around. Though he quickly rushed the boy to the hospital, it was too late. He
was already dead!
I was grief-stricken and nothing anybody said could console me. I
wept all day and refused to eat. But even in my grief at losing our son, I
could see the effect on my husband. He took the boy's death badly. For days and
even weeks after, he would stay in his room drinking and listening to very sad,
melancholy music.
When my family heard about what happened, my father came to see me
without my mother. Two of my siblings were with him. My mother's absence showed
she was still angry with me over my choice of a husband. I felt bitter that she
could not even put the past behind and come to see me in my time of distress.
Later, we recovered somewhat from the tragedy and forged on with
our lives. Before my son died, I had discovered I was pregnant again and the
doctor, our friends and family kept reminding of that- that I needed to be
strong for the new life growing in
I had a baby girl some months later. We were happy for the new
arrival in our home and I was hopeful that things would return to the state
they were before we lost our son. Three years later, I gave birth again, to
I consoled myself with the fact that I was still young and fertile
enough to have more children, especially sons. I was ready to do anything in my
quest to give my husband, male issues as I felt instinctively that our future
happiness depended on it. I confided my worries to one of my aunts and she
promised to help. She said she knew a powerful man of God, a prophet who could
help 'turn my womb, so I can only give birth to sons.'
One day, she took me to this man who prayed for me and
applied some funny smelling ointment on my stomach. He assured me that my womb
would only produce males from then on.
I believed him so much that when I became pregnant again some time
later, I bought clothes for a baby boy. So, you could imagine my disappointment
when I had another girl. Don't get me wrong, I love my daughters and I think
the world of them. But we live in a society where the male child is highly sought
after and a woman who can't give her husband males is deemed a failure, one who
has not fully fulfilled her role as a wife.
This time around, when Frank heard I had given birth to another
girl, he did not even bother to show up at the hospital. It was one of my elder
brothers who came to pay the bills and take me and the baby home. And it was
two days after that he came home from wherever he had gone to. I noticed
immediately that he was quite withdrawn. He did not show interest in me or the
baby unlike in my previous deliveries.
I tried to find out what was the matter, but he refused to say
anything. Then one day, he simply flared up when I asked him to help me keep an
eye on the baby while I took a quick shower.
"Am I your baby nurse that I should carry the baby?
Take her with you or leave her there! Don't bother me!" he said.
"But Frank, what's wrong with your afterall
"Yes! She's my daughter and that's the problem! There are
just too many of them! You think I married you to fill my house with girls
I knew I had to give him a son or my marriage would be in
jeopardy. But try as I could, I could not conceive again. It was as if my womb
just closed up. Worse still, my relationship with my husband continued to
deteriorate. Before, he would come home straight from work as soon as he closed
to spend time with me. Now, I hardly saw him. Sometimes, he would stay out for
days and return without explanations. To keep the peace in our home, I did not
ask questions about where he had been.
Later, I started hearing stories of his escapades with other
women outside. A friend of mine even saw him at a swanky hotel in town one day
with a lady and told me how he was all over her. I ignored all these stories
and focused on taking care of my children, all the while praying that God would
remember me and give me a son.
Things got worse, however. We had been together for about seven
years when Frank simply walked out on me one day. I had gone out that day and
returned to see him dragging some suitcases downstairs. His driver was standing
nearby to help load the bags in the boot of his car outside.
"Where are you going, Frank? You didn't tell me you were
traveling," I stated, eyeing the bags.
"As you can see, I'm leaving," he said shortly.
"What do you mean, leaving? To where" I asked, my heart
beating fast with fear probably.
"Can't you get it? I'm going away! I'm leaving you! And for
your own good, don't bother looking for me!" he said, as he moved outside
to the car park. I followed quickly, shocked at the turn of events. I knew we
were having problems, but not to the extent of abandoning me and his family. How
could he?
I was not ready to lose my husband so going down on my knees, I
pleaded with him to reconsider.
"Please, Frank, you can't do this to me! Don't go, honey!
Think of the children! They need you. And I can't live without you!"
But he ignored my pleadings and hurriedly getting into his car,
drove away. It's been over a year now and I have not set eyes on my husband. We
only speak on the phone when he calls to enquire
To be fair to him, he still takes care of us by giving me money
for our upkeep. But that's not what I want. I want my husband back. Some people
might think what happened to me is the law of karma or nemesis considering what
happened to Frank's first wife. Or I should have paid attention to my mother's
advice as they were words of wisdom from an elder. Whatever!
Truth is, I still love and want my husband and I will do anything
to get him back. He is not actually a bad person, but his obsession for a son
has beclouded his judgement. So, what should I do to win him back? Thank
you.
The End!
What do you think Nicole should do next?
Names have been changed to protect the identity of the narrator and other individuals in the story.
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