DEJI
Most of Deji’s processing happened at night when everyone was in bed. He had found that after having children and becoming a proper family man, there wasn’t much time left during the day for his thoughts.
And he was a thinker. When he was younger, friends had accused him of being too deep a thinker, because he preferred an evening alone with his thoughts than a visit to the club.
Ivie said he got a particular look in his eyes when he was deep in his thoughts and he looked so far away that she had to call out to him twice or thrice to get his attention.
That evening, the one that had opened a can of worms that Deji would have preferred to stay shut was high on the list of thoughts as he lay in bed beside his sleeping wife.
She had made a bold statement, had asked him why he never asked her why. He had balked at the question. Why?
He had acted like an idiot, stuttering and getting defensive.
“What do you mean I haven’t asked you why?”
“You assumed you knew why,” Ivie said.
“You…it…wasn’t it supposed to be postpartum depression?” it was a stupid question and he regretted it the moment it left his mouth because of course, it hadn’t been postpartum depression. She had started drinking long before she got pregnant with the twins. It had been subtle then, too much wine at the dinner table, a bottle of wine at the end of every day (or so he thought). He had turned a blind eye, pretending it was normal even though he didn’t drink and couldn’t stand the smell of alcohol.
When had he first spoken up about it? Oh yes, it was when she was pregnant and would still indulge. But even then, it had been about how safe it was for the babies than about her health. He had given her the ultimatum to quit and go to counselling or else. She had done both and somehow, he expected that to be the end of that.
Except it wasn’t.
She was right. He never asked why, he just wanted it fixed. Wanted her back to her normal self. But what was her normal self? Had he ever really known her? How many times while they were dating had she been under the influence? She had been good at hiding it then, perhaps she was what they called a functioning alcoholic. Oh God. There it was…the term he had been running away from. He had never wanted to use that term in the same sentence as his wife’s name so he had avoided calling it what it was.
He looked over at her sleeping form in the space beside him; she had a gentle snore; her right hand was thrown over her face obscuring one eye. Even with her bonnet and bare face, she was still lovely. It disgusted Deji as much as it excited him.
How could this person who had captured his attention from the moment she walked into that store on a rainy afternoon looking like a goddess be the same person who hid bottles of alcohol around their home?
What did that make him? The husband of an alcoholic? Was it his fault? Was she unhappy?
She was right, somewhere along the line, he had switched from calling her endearments to calling her by name. What did that mean for them? What did it mean for him?
“Okay, why?” he had asked her at dinner when he realized there was no escaping.
She laughed, a shallow sound that didn’t get to her eyes.
“What?’ he asked, feeling like a brat.
“You’re asking like you’re forced to and not because you really care.”
“Ivie, don’t make this harder than it already is abeg.”
“Do you even still love me?”
“What? Why would you ask me that?”
“It’s a question. Do you?”
“It’s an insulting question.”
“It’s a simple question that needs an answer.”
“I’m your husband. Should there be a question of whether I love you?”
“The fact that you can’t answer a simple yes or no question says it all, husband.”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?” he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.
He saw from the look on her face that she was as stunned as he was by his response. He had never been the combative kind of man, never been one to make brash statements. He was good at hiding things, especially his real feelings. It was a necessary evil he had learned from his father. If you showed all your emotions, it made you vulnerable to their father when he wanted to strike. He went from praising you one minute to cursing you the next, a pendulum that swung unexpectedly depending on the day.
Deji realized that his mask had slipped off with Ivie, the careful mask he had worn to project a sense of calm and togetherness for the sake of his children.
“Are you…tired of me?” there was a tremble in his wife’s voice.
“I don’t know,” it was perhaps his first straightforward answer of the evening. “I know that I’m tired. I just don’t know if it’s of you. Or if it’s because of everything else.”
The bottle of wine she ordered when they first sat down arrived then and she snapped it open and took a huge gulp straight from the bottle.
“Ivie…” he pleaded.
“You don’t even want to touch me anymore,” another swig.
He had nothing to say to this. How could he tell her that the smell of alcohol on her breath when he kissed her was a turn-off? That the way she flirted with him when she was drunk made him feel dirty? Like one of those gigolos that hung around Maitama at odd hours of the night.
“Do I disgust you? Is that it?” Ivie had pressed.
“I don’t want to have this conversation anymore,” he told her, shoving a forkful of rice into his mouth.
“Classic Deji. Always running away from the tough conversations,” she clapped her hands at him.
“Stop it, Ivie. We came to have a nice evening out so can we just do that?”
“Right. A nice evening, eh? Well then, I might as well get comfortable. Waiter!”
Deji had watched, horrified as Ivie went ahead to order another bottle of red wine.
He rolled to the edge of their bed now, unable to sleep. The night hadn’t gone as planned. He had wanted something romantic, something light enough so he could pick her brain about the dreams she had been having.
He unplugged his phone and scrolled to the app he needed. It was past midnight and it was unlikely that anyone else was awake on the other end.
He typed out a message:
You awake?
The response came in less than a minute after.
Always.
Why always?
Insomnia is a real thing.
There are drugs for it, right?
If I need a drug to sleep, then I might as well not.
True.
What’s up? Why are you awake?
Can’t sleep.
Obvs.
Had a terrible date night with the W.
I’m impressed you still go on date nights.
It was the first one in a long time.
What went wrong?
Everything.
Wanna talk about it?
Actually, no. I want to forget.
I see.
Tell me something weird about you.
This is an anonymous platform for a reason.
Yes, so tell me anonymously. I’m not going to know who you are anyway.
I once kissed a dog.
😊 that’s unexpected.
But weird. Yes?
Yes.
Your turn.
I might be falling out of love with the W.
