STORY: A DIARY OF TWO STRANGERS CHAPTER 3

He parked his car and opted out, got to the store, he bought her a red night dress and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon red wine, some chocolate, an album each of Blues and Country music. He wondered why he couldn’t remember what she liked. But he convinced himself somehow that he had made a good choice.
When he got home, he punched on the doorbell but didn’t get a reply, pressed twice again but no reply, he pulled at the knob and the door willingly obliged. Wondering if his wife had now lost not just her charm but her memories too, ‘she forgot to lock the door!’ he said within himself. He got in and called but no one responded. He was worried, perhaps she went out somewhere? But that seem unlikely, at least now, there was a time she would shop around for hours trying to get the best ingredient in cooking one of those homemade meals. He wondered where she could be, he had called her earlier in the day to inform her he would be home today.

He took some steps towards the centre of the too spacious living room.  He stumbled upon a wrinkly paper in between the sofa and the centre table, he picked it up simply out of curiosity, ‘she didn’t tidy the living room as well?’ He unwrapped the paper shocked beyond words. There and back he stared at the wall and paper in his hands. The piece of paper is a copy of his wedding vow; it had been ripped out of the glass frame.

It was her Idea that we had it in a large 6 by 7 frame. She hung it herself in the living room for all to see, the dancing curly fonts on the paper read,

‘Where we met, there we stood, unafraid to love you, bonded by these words; we live never to part, together forever as one.’

Those words, it meant so much to her, why would she destroy it, He had made it for her as a surprise on her 27th birthday. She loved that frame and hung it high up away from the playful hands of Annie and David their two kids, away from the curious hands of strangers...”

At this point, I was unwillingly to allow the old man continue, obviously the old man was a mystic, he was toying with me, he had probed into my heart to know what Melenie did to the necklace. How was it possible that he knew- could it be that the bedtime stories of supernatural beings lurking in the night especially during a full moon was true? Nonsense, I am allowing this man treat me like a little kid, no, am not! I stared back at the old man, "Sir, you have no...." I paused as soon as I started; now I could see his face in the light of the night, full of wires of veins, a cobweb of wrinkles spiraled across probably a once handsome face. He was peering at my soul, his gaze focused on my eyes, it was as though I was hoodwinked, his eyes seem to glow, reflecting the twin of the full moon, it seem he intend to finish what he started that way, I felt an unusual pity, like the one I once felt years back when I saw Mel cry or sad.

The old man continued, almost wincing, “He moved towards the toilet to see if she was there, before he could knock, he noticed someone spilled a red paint on the floor ‘Oh God! My wife needs a psychiatrist, how can she be painting the tiled walls of the bathroom with a red paint, she is in a worse shape than I had anticipated." In annoyance he pushed the door open not minding if she was there or not. Inside he saw the vessel that poured the paint, in place of a plastic paint bucket he saw his wife, the red paint is her blood.

“He looked in horror, this must be a silly trick, she is definitely mad, He screamed her name but her body laid there like a used tissue paper, folded and cold on the tiled toilet floor. ‘Stop it now and get up at once!’ the man screamed repeatedly until he saw a knife beside her blood soaked dress. She had severed the vein at the wrist of her left hands. to ensure the certainty of her death. She had chosen the bathroom as the death scene to save him the difficulty of mopping any of the rooms after her death,

He couldn't still believe this was real, he bent down and screamed at the corpse, ‘Why, why this?’ As though she anticipated the question, he saw some markings on the inner brown carton of the toilet tissue paper, he picked it up with intermittent sobs, written in blue ink in her writing, I loved you as life, I waited if you'll ever come back home. It was supposed to last, you were supposed to hold tight. Since you left you never came back, you were my sun until you went down. You left me to time and I wilt. Sorry I ruined your gift, it didn't mean anything anymore, you were the life it breathes but when you left it died and so will I. I loved you once, I love you now, so much I need to go before you finally do.

The old man's lips mow staggered, “I was....” The words did not escape his lips, he tried again but couldn’t proceed. Tears filled his eyes and so did two or more escape my eyes down my cheeks, he was still gazing, his tears dazzled like tiny crystal balls in the fully lit moon. He finally had the strength to continue, "The man sat down to think about what he had read. If this indeed was a nightmare, this wasn't happening, could it?” ‘Why didn't she call me? Or say a thing? We could have pulled through; we could have talked this over.’

These thoughts and questions were racing through his heart when he remembered his wife's constant nagging and complaints, those were the signs. She said so many things, he remembered before any argument they had, it was she who did the talking, they talked but never communicated and he never understood. He was now weeping, feeling vexed why he didn’t see this coming, but he did. ‘I thought she had adjusted. Oh……’ as he rose over the corpse to call the cops, he saw the curtain that demarcated the bathtub from where he stood was stained with blood from within. He quickly brushed the nylon curtain aside wondering if there was more of any horrifying surprise....”

“Yes, there was! To his shock, his two teenage kids had been murdered as well, they were lying there in the bathtub as though they were whispering, ‘Daddy welcome home!’ They were cold and gazing at me, They were dead and I wondered why, why my wife had done this to me, to them. I cried like an insane man, I screamed, I laughed and I mourned the loss of these pyramids that formed my world.”

I stared at the man, he was sweating in the cold of the night, his face was wet, like one who just stumbled out of a nightmare, he had no more power to gaze, he looked like a child now, perhaps an orphaned child; lonely, sad, frightened, deserted and lost.

"He never had the strength to live anymore but so didn’t I have the courage to join them there, in death" he said facing the moon as if he offered his tears as sacrifice to the departed.

“Go home son, love that wife and be thankful for her complaints and nagging, Oh, Claire! What I would give to hear you nag and complain, to sit there and smile through our arguments. Go home son, there is no happiness except with her. There is no heaven out there except emptiness after the fun. You deserve to be happy, yes! But your happiness should be shared together with her. The gate of adultery is painted in gold but its chambers are filled with death and bones. Marriage is not an option, she is not an option, she is a choice and so is your marriage. If you walk out on that commitment, son, you’ll shoulder a universe of  emptiness, blackness and loneliness. But just in case you wish to continue seeking happiness outside your home, look at me,” I stared and he continued,

"I am that man that walked the path, I am the outcome of that thought, I am the reflection of your future, the history you are going to tell to a lonely park wanderer someday. If you give up on everything that revolves around her, your marriage and vow." Those where his last words.

Darkness soon approached to wrap up what the old man started. The moon struggled to maintain its shine through the dark clouds. The man arose heading into the night, almost immediately out of sight.

I turned, without thinking about all that had transpired between me and Mel, Oh Mel, my dearest one, I got in the car and drove at top speed, The thoughts were racing, Mel please don't do anything stupid, God please keep her safe, grant her the courage to hold on for few more minutes. At the front of the house I parked leaving the keys behind. I rushed to the door and banged, shouting, “Mel... Please, open the door. Please let me in...” The old man’s tale was so much coincidental with my plight, so much I was already seeing pictures of Mel committing suicide. Oh man! I knew I left her in a bad shape. Mel is going to do something terrible to herself if I didn’t scream. There was no reply from within, it was silent - I had begun to cry, “Mel please, I beg you please,” I was sobbing when the door cracked open and I saw Melenie, she was shocked, she looked at her left and right to be sure I wasn't in danger, I saw her, she was so beautiful in that dress,

I kissed her before she asked what was wrong. I kissed her over and over saying, “I love you.” She did too saying, “I love you too.” I was a bit surprised she responded but yes she did, I carried her, swirling around with her in my hands saying, “I am sorry please forgive me..”

"You didn’t offend me what are you saying," I said, “but I did!” She replied “No! You did not, what is the matter with you?”

I wanted to protest then share my encounter with the old man when it dawned on me that Mel sounded almost like a man. “Mel!” She never ever sounded like that before, her voice was sweet and it could make any bird sing, something is wrong.

"Young man you need to get off the bus and snap out of your hangover, this is the last stop" the old man rattled me in the process till I raised my head. Before I raised my head he had alighted from the bus. I had slept off in the bus, through the heavy traffic. It was all a dream, yet so real, I could swear my lips were wet from kissing Mel. Phew! It was a dream, oh thank God. I am going to straighten things out with Mel as soon as am home. What a nightmare!

I stood up, ready to alight from the bus, then I saw a very flat folder bag where the old next to me sat, the kind that contains paper documents. I picked it and quickly jumped down judging the old man had mistakenly left it behind. I tried to fetch him out with my eyes among the crowd but to no avail, I gave up, but I would open the leather bag to see if there would be a way to reach him. Yes! Thank God there was at least one sheet of paper there, weird but it rekindled the hope in me to return his forgotten item, I cast caring eyes on the neat paper in search of a phone number or address but to my dismay boldly written with curly fonts was,

“Just in case, you wish to continue seeking happiness aside of your home, remember me, I am that man that walked the path, I am the outcome of that thought, I am the reflection of your future, the history you are going to tell to a lonely park wanderer someday, if you give up on everything that revolves around her, your marriage and vow."

I lifted my eyes to see if the old man who had left this was watching somewhere, at the same time I wondered if my dream was actually real. My eyes was still probing the crowds when I saw a hand go up in the crowd, then two fingers was up and then one finger, I cast my eyes down wondering what it meant and it dawn on me, “Two become one.” I lift my eyes to see if the person was still there, I intend to run forward but he was gone. I turned to the back of the paper and found these words:

And (I) beheld among the simple ones, I discerned among the youths, a young man void of understanding, Passing through the street near her corner; and he went the way to her house... And, behold, there met him a woman with the attire of an harlot, and subtil of heart... So she caught him, and kissed him, and with an impudent face… He goeth after her straightway, as an ox goeth to the slaughter, or as a fool to the correction of the stocks; Till a dart strike through his liver; as a bird hasteth to the snare, and knoweth not that it is for his life. Let not thine heart decline to her ways, go not astray in her paths. For she hath cast down many wounded: yea, many strong men have been slain by her. Her house is the way to hell, going down to the chambers of death.
Proverbs 7:7-27

I placed the paper back into its place, place the the file bag underneath my armpit, fully aware what this meant, how I have been intercepted by the divine God and how my marriage meant so much to Him, "Thank you God" I said. I headed home pondering how possible it is to live a dream in reality and wondering how I would explain this to anyone.

                                                                

                                                                   THE END

Lets fight for our marriage because that is what heroes do. It is not about who went wrong but who is willing to make the wrong right. Please write me if you are in need of someone to talk to.

Kindly take time to share with friends going through the storm in their marriage. Thanks

Paul Aremooluwa

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        2016