Uchechi

Church bells ringing, a gorgeous garden setting with real flowers, getting married to the man of her dreams was all she wished for. Filled with people she loved, and family members she would never see again. Old friends, new friends, work friends, bad friends were all welcome. "Join me and let's celebrate". Uche was the happiest woman alive.

Uchechi gazed into Emeka's eyes through her veil. She saw excitement, love, happiness but yet, an uneasy feeling. "Stop being anxious", he stared back. She read him, like a nursery rhyme, with joy and willingness to go over from the top.

She turned to look at her best friend, Bola by her side, waiting to get a nod of assurance that she’s making the right choice. Bola looked back, expressionless. ‘The no-nonsense woman’ she usually calls her. Rolling her eyes, and turning her head, she was sad her best friend was not in support of her marriage.

"Get out of my house!" She could recall Bola yelling at her two months ago. "Leave this place and cry somewhere else. I will not tolerate such nonsense if you do not open your eyes to see that no man, I mean, no man should lay a finger on you! I do not care whatever you did." She was embarrassed. She had no one to cry to. She begged and wailed like a mother that had lost her first son, dragging Bola’s ankle like it was her only source of life.

"Uche! Look at you! Are you out of your mind? You’re crying!” This time she rose her voice like she needed someone else to hear her. “My mentholated spirit has finished! See, I don’t have your color of foundation again! Uche, I am tired! Do not come back here if you don’t have sense, I beg you."

Bola sat on the chair in her living room and shook her head in disappointment and with rage. She went back and forth, chewing her nails, itching her hair and stared at her best friend, who was then helpless on her polished floor.

She was confused when Bola agreed to be her chief bridesmaid. Bola was the only one that knew her tragedy. She hated Emeka, but that was the last fight she knew. Uche couldn’t tell Bola what had happened between her and Emeka after that day. She told herself she understood him, that she knew where he was coming from and she accepted her faults, and his.

"Love is all about sacrifices." Her best phrase to compensate herself when she’s covering up wounds. "Love is all about sacrifices" when she took her painkillers. "Love is all about sacrifices" when he came home drunk and slept with her when she didn’t want to and then vomited on the floor. "Love is all about sacrifices" when she was cleaning up his mess. "Love is all about sacrifices, Uchechi. It’s all in the past." Looking back at Emeka’s handsome, perfectly crafted face now at her beautiful wedding.

Emeka was sweating, but she felt it was cute. How some ladies feel when men show a little bit of emotion. Emeka started sweating profusely, his neck, his underarms. There were sweat marks on his grey Christian Louboutin suit. "This suit was expensive, Emeka calm down." she thought to herself. He started looking around like he was searching for a bee that was buzzing in his ear. She tried to whisper his name, but he stopped looking her way. She looked at Bola's face and she knew she was watching every move of his.

While she was trying to understand the situation, Pastor Mike asked her if he was okay. She did not answer. Emeka looked at her and held her hand. Kind of a relief, is this guy acting? she thought. He looked at her and said, "I can’t do this." She looked up at the pastor to see if he heard. Immediately, she felt a sharp pain in her throat. Is…this…guy…acting? Everything Bola warned her about played like a movie. The weight of everything she had with Emeka, what she felt for Emeka, all she went through hit her like she was at the bottom of a rollercoaster. People in the congregation started whispering, everyone’s voices in hush tones. She stuttered and asked, "You… can’t do what?"

He let go of her hand and jumped down from the altar, speeding through the aisle with everyone’s eyes escorting him out the door. "Chimo!" her dramatic mother cried out, as her hands flung up in the air. "Nwa anyi egbu go mu. Ndi na ahuru mu na aya mu ga chi mu ochi!" This girl has killed me. The people that hate me will laugh at me. "You see yourself?” She stretched out her 60-year-old palms towards Uchechi’s direction like she was owing her some money. She spoke Igbo in tears, Uchechi could always speak her mother tongue, but that day she couldn’t understand a thing her mother said. “You have brought that boy to disgrace me!" As a mother, this was not how she imagined her only daughter’s wedding. But Uche stood still in shock and was oblivious to her environment. She didn’t care about what her mum was doing, or what everyone was doing. She just stood there, numb and astonished.

Bola reached out for her friend, in anger, looking down the aisle where Emeka passed, wishing she could drag him back and slice his throat. She held her as they came down and passed the nearest exit which was behind where she was standing. Putting her into the vehicle like she had a stroke and she was being rushed to the ER.

She cried on Bola’s lilac dress and Bola was mute the whole time. Bola was the happiest person that day. Her friend had been with a monster for three years and he finally let go. Uche could only drown in her own regret, vomit, and disgrace that Saturday morning on Bola's thighs.

It was five years after and Emeka had not returned. No explanations, no texts or calls. She didn’t find him on social media anymore and his line didn’t go through the one time she tried it. Uche took time to heal, physically, emotionally and mentally but she always wondered where he went to. Could he have been hiding the whole time? What if he saw me once in the supermarket or crossing the road and I didn't even notice?

The healing process was tragic, especially when she was in labor eight months after. She gave birth to their son, Andrew and she couldn't love him more. "This is the only man I want in my life." She would laugh with Bola. Her growth was pure, but her love was purer.

The day she saw her son’s face, she remembered everything she had with Emeka. She always saw something in him that she could not explain. Damn! It hurt whenever he hit her — she got goosebumps as she remembered the dark times — but she saw repentance in his eyes whenever he apologized. She felt like his god when he pleaded for mercy. He was charming, she confessed whenever she spoke about him to Bola. But she was done thinking about Emeka, he was gone forever, and she had started a new life. And it was on that day she bore Andrew that she promised to show more love to herself.

Andrew had brown eyes and a pointy nose. She couldn't tell who he looked like but he was adorable. She watched him eat his pineapples across the table and imagined what he would grow up to be in life, and if he'd ever disobey her. The doorbell rang and interrupted her daydream. "I'll get it!" he ran off, and she let him. Looking closely at every step he took, she watched him open the door and stare. "Who's there?" she was expecting Bola, but there was no voice from the open door. From the look on Andrew's face, it was someone unfamiliar. With so much fear and thoughts of kidnapping and murder in just a second, she ran towards her son to save him from that person who was not Bola.

And there he was. A full-bearded dark-skinned man, with biceps and large hands. He wore a plaid shirt, dirty jeans, and old dusty shoes, the type you don't see in stores anymore. It was Emeka.