He might lose his mother after the news but at the moment he doesn’t really care.
He sauntered out of the room, his upper view revealing a bare-chested man with curly hair seated scantily on the belly. His hands were akimbo as he stared at the clock.
He thought about his life, about the plans that his mum had quashed. Then he remembered the visit to his mum the next day. He heaved a sigh. This will be the third lady in three years. The third, because his mum had rejected the other two.
The first two were of his tribe, his mum vibed to their tunes until she found out they weren’t of the same church. And that they weren’t ready to change because of the marriage. She had flared up, cussed out, and promised to curse their union if he ever got married to them.
He obeyed her.
This one was different. The lady on his bed. The one he had proposed to, without his mother’s consent. The lady that did nothing but love his entire existence. She was of the same church as his mother but of a different tribe. Her name was Yemi.
He had believed he was ready to face his mum but now all he felt was cold feet.
As thoughts raced through his mind, the door cracked open. He cocked his head.
“Honey, why are you pacing at this night?” She asked taking his hand into hers.
“Nothing really, babe” he said keeping a passive face
“Come to sleep, Whatever it is, we’ll talk about tomorrow on our way to the village,” she said and dragged towards the door as he wondered how she will feel after meeting his mother.
*
*
The door to a Toyota Camry 2.7 car flew open. The sun was a burning fire as their feet caressed the ground. Chants of “brother welcome” filled the air.
He held her close, groping her from behind. Her perfume filled his nose as he led her to the entrance. His sister was already hugging the stranger beside him. She has always been the best sister he would ever ask of.
Then His mum walked out. Her face beamed with smiles as she embraced her son, the stranger of a lady, and ushered them in.
On the dining table, with cutleries clashing against each other, his mother who looked at her in askance started with her normal questions asked,
“Ehen my dear, you’re from which state again?”
“Niger state ma,” she answered with an angelic smile.
“Ehn?” some food particles left her mouth as she jerked forward.
There was dead silence as her gestures sank in, she continued.
“You mean you didn’t see any girl from Anambra, Abia, Imo, or Enugu to marry? Niger state Ehn Emeka?”.
He could see her bloodshot eyes, the rage building up in them but he cared less. He spoke up.
“Mum, I’m thirty-seven for crying out loud. You keep rejecting them, Do you want to marry me?”
He was right about his lady being a strong woman. In all the alterations, she kept a straight face and said nothing, her man was standing up to the occasion.
“You’re not getting married to this one,” his mother slammed the table and made to rise. He held her hand and stared into her face.
“Mummy please, she’s the one for me.”
“She has bewitched you. I can see it”
“No Mum, I love her. Besides she’s a member of our church.”
She shrugged, shook her head, devoured the lady with eyes, and said,
“Over my dead body will you marry onye ofe mmiri”.
He threw up his hands in unbelief, slid his hand into his pocket, and flashed a gold card.
“Mum, our wedding is in a month’s time. I’m just here to give you the invitation.”
© Stephen Toochi
