FAZES: FACES

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FACES


 "You just slapped me?!" Did I slap her? I did not even feel my palm meet her skin, I only remember a red haze swallow me and ominous silence.

  ''Oh God!! shameless, that is what you are, all of you!'' What is she talking about?

  ''You were inside your office with a foolish woman and I am trying to protect us and you slap me!! So this is it? You have been looking for an opportunity to send me away from this house? No? You paid bride price complete oh! Ka'm gwa kwa gi, let me just tell you, unless my father will give it back to you I will not leave!!''
Papa is dead.

  ''I will not leave this house for any woman!!!'' She shrieks and  turns away from me, to inspect her face. Her usual flawless skin is red below one cheek; as she slowly turns her head to the mirror in front of her, she begins to whimper.

  "I'm..." I begin, her phone cuts me short with a love song; it mocks us. ''Baby don't answer that, forgive me. Your jealousy makes me mad, you doubt me and I just lost money because you acted up,'' I mean to say this.

  "Hello Mr Feso," she giggles. A woman is the moon's changing faces. I watch her reflection for some time, her perfectly shaped mouth opening and closing slightly in speech.

  I have work to do.

I remove my shirt and my hands move to the belt before a scraping sound hits my senses, the sound of a wooden leg moving over the tiles, and then her warmth wraps me from behind, her sobs shake my body.

  ''Bola I'm sorry.'' Is this what you get when you hurt a woman, her apology is manipulating me, I should be angry but I had already hit her, this is why they call it domestic violence: It is not like roughing another person up.

  I want to speak but I cannot make out the words: I have not eaten since after breakfast.
  I should apologize.

Her hand goes to the narrow path at my back, she draws lines gently, using the tips of her nails, what is she writing? A downward stroke, two curves, more touching - my name and then 'NOT FAIR', I spin around to look at her.

From : Getty Images

  I should not have because her face reminds me of those times we spent together, the evenings we drove to the club as friends, shouting over alcohol and loud sounds of the new Nigerian music genre she liked- conflicting trends and some really good beats; those times she chose a beer definitely, without fussing on the brand, her face: open and alive.

  Now I don't even know if she remembers, I want to say these but I am interrupted; I feel her force me, pushing my chest down, my skin meets softness and her tears.
  I'm going to cry, "Pls, stop,'' she looks up at my face,
  "I am sorry Annabel, I was just..." she breaks her gaze, choking me with pleasure.

  "I understand," she does not, her feelings coil up now like a python and the plasticity comes back, I am more tired after it, my ankles throb.

  "Baby, I am sorry,"  I get no answer, she has her eyes closed, the inflamed part of her face angers me and I am hungry.

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