I have worked for four years as bakery assistant and I have earned the trust of my employer. I live in a mini flat owned by the bakery owner. I need just two children. On her part, Pat agreed with everything I said but she said she needed to work for sometime before getting pregnant. Deal.
Three weeks later, Pat was employed as a shop assistant at a supermarket. Everything went well until one Sunday afternoon. My siesta was rudely interrupted by cacophony of sarcastic voices. A small crowd of women and children had gathered close to our compound. I peeped through my window. I was scandalised. I saw Pat, sobbing profusely, encircled by the vociferous crowd. Her blouse rent, skirts ripped and hair ruffled. Her shredded pants hung loosely on her bruised fingers. Pat was caught in bed with one of my married neighbours. It took the intervention of some elderly women before she was freed from the maddening crowd. Back at home, she wept inconsolably, blaming her debauchery on the devil. I pardoned her.
Months later, Pat returned home, clutching a costly android phone and a pack of make-up kits. She claimed that the items were sent to her by Gabriel, her elder brother and a commercial motorcyclist in Lagos. I knew this was a blatant lie but I had no proof.
I remember the day she arrived, fresh from the village, Pat wore no make-up and she glowed without jewellery. Now, she has suddenly become a fashionista; voguish and finicky.
Notwithstanding, Pat and I had s3-x regularly yet she didn’t get pregnant. One night, she came back from work, stuttering and reeking in liquor. She staggered and slept off after she flung her handbag, littering the floor with its contents. While she snored away, I tried to help arrange her scattered items. To my utmost shock, I found contraceptive pills, POS print outs, bearing the name of her immediate boss and the receipt of her android phone. I waited till daybreak before confronting her.
Pat owned up to her perfidy. She confessed that she had been taking contraceptives to avoid getting pregnant. And she dropped the bombshell, “I’m in love with my boss…he is the one I want to marry”. I was shattered. I reminded that her boss was married. “Yes, I know he is married but I love him,” she insisted.
It dawned on me that I had lost my deposits on the lustful beauty that I brought from my village. I’m gnashing my teeth in regrets…