A SHORT STORY
MartTilda by Emmanuel Umeji
She draped her scarf around her face and her shame. A wisp of hair fell from her loosened bun and hung before her eyes as she whipped them behind with a swift tilt of her head. Then, she wiped her tears with her peach palms.
The whirr from the treadmill had halted after five minutes of being idle. The room’s atmosphere thickened like it was outside. It became hot even though the rain drizzled outside and the air condition hung on the wall with a mouth that spits out air. She could hear her own heart beating a deafening tone like a disco bass to her ears as her eyes descry the video. She covers her face again, but this time, with her palms. She will not bring herself together and cast another gaze at the phone which sprouted light close to her as the video plays without volume. The television glitched as well as if begging for service. She managed to track the remote on the couch with her left hand still masking her face. Getting it, she split her long fingers in the middle like a pair of scissors and peep through them to find the red button at the end of the remote. Pressing it, the television swipes into blankness.
Now, many things went on in her mind: like how do men just marry off women like the leaves to the storm and fling them into the kitchen with narrow square windows that look into the bustling street and remind them of the freedom they’ve been robbed of. Or she should blame herself more for almost being hanged to death as honour killing for raining down her skirt to the floor before his eyes in the first place. Or when her mother warns her to leash her desires she had for this so-called “boo” as she would call him whenever she’s in a discussion with her about him.
Now, reality has stoned her into this dungeon of a marriage. Now she cannot leash what she could have leashed in the beginning. Now Mart is out with his true colours. A bird that does not call one nest home. Now he migrates from waist to waist, spreading her love with some harlots and intentionally taking videos with them to fill her WhatsApp chat, in a bid to bring his infidelity to light. And to keep her heart unease.
Tilda came back to herself already regretting her shortcomings in tears. Her tears-watered palms flattened under her chin like she had wiped some sweat with them. She gathered her pinafore by her belly and muttered to herself that she was not moving. Not now her child is stepping into maturity. She tried to think of John, how he sat by her side with mouthfuls of promises each time Mart hit her. How he promised her to be serious in his academics and move her out of the country. She lifts herself from the couch and looking at the treadmill, she leaps to the socket and switches it off.
….
They rested their elbows on the balustrade with Bayoh. The complex was a circular two-storey building and from where they sprawl on the second floor, they could see everywhere around. Heads were swarming in and out of shops, voices springing up on top of each other in negotiation. Every shop entrance has an advert above it displaying certain phone products and a celebrity holding their device. Cars splattered at the circular open space in the middle of the building. The hot sun above poured down sharp rays that stung.
The rays spiked Tilda’s yellow arms that shot out from the balcony. She draws back into the shade of the roof. Then, as if tired of the silence, Bayoh spoke in his hush-tenor voice.
“And what did he say?”
“He said nothing. He always believes his staying out late and not caring about the family isn’t a problem he should solve.” she fixes the car key holder into her middle finger.
“Did you discuss it with anyone else?”
“No, I did not. Since I have promised you to be patient, I have stopped telling anyone about him, even my parents.”
“Mart...” Bayoh rolls the roots of his long black beard with his finger, clapping the sole of his shoe to the ground. “Okay, Tilda, I promise to talk to him. This nonsense must stop. Please, take the whole situation calmly.”
“Okay, Bayoh.”
“Thank you for your patience. I would have loved us to discuss more, I just have to clear up the work I have in hand before evening, so, you stay safe and greet the kids when they’re back from school. And please, be calm, okay?”
“It’s okay. I promise to be calm. Thank you, Bayoh.” Tilda concluded, moving to the parking lot to get her car.
As she drove to her children’s school, so many things ran through her mind. She barely even noticed when the traffic light displayed its red light. She sped past the VIO officer standing at the pedestrian walk. She had noticed that after a truck of sand overtook her, storming the dust into her open window and her face. She had thought to just end her life once and for all. To drink a bottle of Snipper. But she could not afford to leave Jane and John- the two angels God blessed her womb with.
When Tilda got into the school compound, something happened that made her heart almost jump into her mouth. She could see John on the neck of a black teacher as a crowd of students swarmed along with him, chanting “John, John”.
For some reason, she decided to keep calm and watch. When they got close to her vehicle, Teacher Ariyo put him down on his shoulders. John’s smiling face enchanted her. In his hands, there is a slip that confirms his scholarship to the States. As he stretched it forward to her, Tilda couldn’t resist her urge to cry, this time, without the scarf that draped her shame. She looked into John’s eyes and muttered, “I am going nowhere because of you.” Then she hugged him as the crowd chanted and clapped joyously.
Biography
Emmanuel Umeji is a writer, award-winning poet-author and memoirist known for his poignant and reflective narrative. His works have been published by reputable online journals and magazines. He lives between Eastern and Northern Nigeria, currently.
