CHAPTER NINE
Obi was reluctant to leave the relative sanctuary of the room he occupied in the luscious hotel he had. He had just gone over that night when he had left his wife and gone off with Della. But then, it was so much for the fact that he was trying to make her jealous; the woman he had taken to the other corner of the room was just nothing but a cloying whore who wanted to have him, conveniently forgetting that he was supposed to be very married. It had been a mistake, for Della had thought that he had designs on her just like she had on him and she had been royally pissed off when he had refused to have anything to do with her. Like he would even think of touching her when he had Adamma_ she was a big dreamer.
He was now ready to return home. He wanted to leave the hotel suite he’d been occupying in his luxury hotel and return home to his mother and his children, and to his wife. He tried to envisage the frosty reception he’d receive from her, but he just couldn’t.
He sighed wearily. He did not want to engage in any verbal fencing with her because she seemed to be becoming an expert at it, and he knew she would undoubtedly be in a foul mood, though she’d try as much as possible cloak it in front of the kids and then unleash the full brunt of her fury on him in their bedroom. She had many facets to her personality, and he knew now that underneath her cloak of smiles and flighty words which she used to cover up the turmoil within, there lay a strong will and a steely determination that could bring out the devil in her. He didn’t want that.
Della and Adamma . . . The two women were polar opposites and the gap between them was too wide: Adamma was an extremely strong-willed woman who wasted no time dallying aimlessly when she knew what she wanted and what ought to be done, and she did it without the least hesitation; that was how she’d single-handedly revolutionized his new chain of supermarkets into becoming mega sellers that sucked in rich clientele. But on the other hand, Della was fickle, and there was practically no thoughts in her head beyond the horizon of spending hours and money pampering her lovely self, investing heavily in couture, some of which would never see the light of day; she spent her time in salons and beauty parlors, her primary concern being the beautification of her natural assets. But Adamma practically had no time to do such because she worked so hard and so late into the nights . . .
He headed out to his car and drove off, heading back home. He’d been living a pipedream, casting his marital responsibilities and his children aside simply because he was steeped in work. It was too ridiculous to contemplate.
He knew that he was a good father to his kids, a terrific lover in the bedroom, but on the marriage chart, he knew that he’d failed; he was a dismal failure. He had never wanted to relegate himself to the role of the dutiful husband who lived a dull life, knowing that it was blatantly against his principles. But that had been before he’d met Adamma the second time, and his world had been turned upside down.
When he drove into the opulent grounds of his mansion an hour later, he found the gardeners working on the flowerbeds, but their greeting was too cool and cold, quite unlike their usual friendliness. And then, the sight that greeted him when he parked under the huge canopy that accommodated the cars that were meant for everyday use was empty spaces where his wife’s two cars were supposed to be. The minivan he’d bought her, but which she rarely drove except when she was accompanying Hope on errands, was there.
He said nothing of this, but when he entered the house a minute later, he felt an absence, not of persons who’d gone out and would return, but the deep silence of persons who were no longer there. He sauntered into his marital room, and then he stopped short; the feeling of emptiness was too profound here, and then he realized why. Every item that belonged to Adamma was missing from the room.
He nearly reeled back in shock, but he stood his ground and then hurried forward. He began throwing open the trunks; the cabinets; the wardrobes; the chest and the drawers. But the story remained the same; his wife was gone.
He felt a feeling of pure rage and other less identifiable emotions surge through him as the thought flew into his mind that his wife had vanished. Whirling round like a crazed devil, he stomped his way to Hope’s room, seeking answers.
Hope was seated on a chaise longue in her room, eating buttered bread, her eyes glued to the laptop screen that was on her laps. She looked up as he entered the room, and the look of concentration she’d adopted fled, to be replaced by a wary stare at his face as her eyes swiveled in his direction.
‘Hello, mother,’ he said coldly, stopping before the chair and fixing Hope with a glare that would have frozen a lake. ‘Wrong time of the day to be eating killer junk with lots of fat in it, isn’t it?’
Hope bit into her bread, and then she snapped, ‘Why are you here?’
Obi folded his muscular arms across his chest and regarded her with angry eyes, his tall frame dominating her slim body that sat so gracefully, and yet, so rigidly upon the chair. They locked their eyes together in a wordless battle, and then he shifted his gaze; it was a tiny victory for Hope, and she smiled mirthlessly.
‘Where is Adamma?’ Obi asked.
Indignation flared hotly in Hope’s eyes. ‘If you’re talking about that whore, then I’ll be glad to tell you that she’s left here. The girl has become fed up with you, and so she packed up and flew out of here as if the devil was hot on her trail. She’s moved out of here, son, and she’s not coming back to this house.’
Obi’s eyes bulged with incredulity. ‘What? She’s left here? But you could have restrained her, or at least tried to contact me to tell me what she was trying to do!’
‘Contacted you?’ Hope released a laugh of annoyance, and then she fixed her sob with a cold stare, ‘I couldn’t contact you because there was no way I wanted to interfere in your fight with your wife. But I have to admit it to you that I’m glad to see that whore get out of this house.’
‘She’s not a whore!’ Obi bellowed.
‘Oh, isn’t she? I am glad to tell you that I know how you met her at a nightclub where she worked as a singer and a dancer and a whore. And then, you fell for charms like a pack of cards. To be sincere to you, I’ll tell you that I wouldn’t be surprised if those kids she’s been parading around as yours don’t really belong to you. That bitch is disgusting!’
Obi reeled back at the cold words that were being spewed out of his mother’s mouth with such venom and anger. He had never fathomed that his mother could be capable of displaying such antipathy towards Adamma whom he knew the woman was very fond of. That her habitual warmth could be replaced by such cold anger and fury was inconceivable, and the fact that she’d stood by meekly and watched Adamma leave the house without doing anything about it, was downright maddening.
‘Mother, where are my children?’ he demanded, fixing her with basilisk glare that would have wilted lesser mortals, but which did nothing to shake Hope’s pose on her chair. She matched his look with a hard, uncompromising stare, and then she shoved the remaining piece of bread into her mouth before she deigned to reply.
‘The whore took them with her when she was leaving, and for all I care, I could have scores of grandsons and granddaughters who will surface to claim you as their father. Your promiscuous life being the judge, I wouldn’t be surprised in any way. Now, let me implore you to get your sorry ass out of my room and please do me a favor and don’t return here until I deem it fit to have you ushered into my presence.’
And then Hope lowered her eyelids towards the glowing screen of the laptop and looked at her scarlet fingernails. The thought flashed through Obi’s mind that she’d dismissed him from her mind, and so, his mind reeling from the blows of her revelations, his thoughts a jumbled mess, he turned and walked out of the room. All his elation that he’d been able to hit back at his wife left him, and he felt as if she’d cast out into an arctic wilderness in which there was no protection for him.
He felt certain that the rebellious singer could not have accomplished such a fit all by herself; he’d realized a long time ago that she was never one to back down from a fight, and she’d have stuck it out to the very end. So, why had she left? Had his mother, through some means he could not fathom, been able to browbeat her into fleeing from their matrimonial home with their kids? Or had she left of her own accord? Had she suddenly decided that she was fed up with him and couldn’t remain with him any longer?
If that had been her intention, then she’d succeeded in giving him a sucker punch below the belt, where it hurt like hell. His mind could not, and would not bear the disconcerting thought of his wife making a public spectacle of him by running. Jesus! Running away! That would set the town agog for months!
His mind narrowing in concentration as a cold fury seized him, he resolved at that very instant to go and bring his wife back to this house even if he had to drag her by her hair as she screamed and shouted obscenities at him. He had to bring her back to this house even if it was the last thing he ever did in his whole life ever again! She must be made to come back to him, even if he had to blackmail her back into his arms. He would never, ever let her go; she was his_ she belonged to him, and anything that belonged to him was meant to stay with him.
A smile creased his lips. He knew that blackmail was the only option he had, and it was something Adamma responded to with great trepidation; that was how it had been when he’d forced his wedding band into her finger. But first, he knew that he had to go and see her; he’d try to talk some sense into her: he’d try to reason with her to return home, to return to his arms. He would give her a reason to stay with him; he’d call a truce so they’d stop fighting and try to settle their differences. He had to try to make her come back to him of her own volition, but if she chose to remain stubborn, he’d force her back to his house, keep her under lock and key, and make love to her till she became pregnant again. And then she’d have no option but to stay with him.
Knowing that she’d be at her house which she’d bluntly refused to sell and pocket a hefty check, he went up to his room and lay down on the bed to think. He waited for a week, and when he heard nothing from or about his wife, he knew that the time had come for him to go to her. He’d given her a reasonable interval to return home but she hadn’t, so he would have to go and get her.
He drew out his Blackberry phone, and then dialed her main number; she had three mobile phone numbers_ one was strictly for her business dealings with her marketers, and her lawyer; it was her ‘music line,’ and the other was for the hundreds of acquaintances she had who were always plying her with dinner and party invitations_ she rarely answered the calls that came to it every minute of the day but instead, she relegated that task to a secretary, and the last line was for her family and her close friends. He called her, and to his surprise, the call was diverted to anther number; it was then answered by Ian.
‘Hello, kiddo,’ Obi said, forcing some sense of fun into his voice, although he was very disappointed that Adamma had been up to her tricks again. He asked the boy, ‘How are you?’
‘Hey dad, we’re fine.’ Ian replied in a quivering voice that tore at his heart. ‘Dad, I’m not supposed to be talking to you unless mom was around, and she might get mad at me. I hope you’re not angry with me, dad?’
Obi laughed to reassure the boy that all was well and as it should be between them. ‘Of course not. Hey, kiddo, is your mother around you right now? We had an argument and so I’d like to speak to her so we can settle our differences.’ And then he heard movement at the other end of the line, and he knew that his son was no longer alone. Suddenly, the sound went on mute, and he waited; someone was in that room with Ian, and he had to wait for whoever it was to reveal herself. It turned out to be Helen, the quieter and more intelligent of the twins.
The line went back on. ‘Dad, I was listening to everything you were saying,’ she said, her voice sounding surprisingly strong for an eleven-year old girl. ‘I know how you made us leave, and if you think I’m going to let you keep on hurting mummy, you’re mistaken. She’s really mad at you, and I think you’re aware of that fact. And she’s gone out; she’s not here with us.’
‘Well, where is she?’
Helen sighed, and he could hear the sound of her tongue clucking at him scornfully in annoyance. ‘Where do you expect her to be?’ she asked, and the edge of weariness in her voice sounded obvious. It was as if she was tired of him. ‘She’s gone out, of course, to go and shoot a music video at the Lagos beach, and then afterwards, she’ll be meeting with some people at the Hilton club or something. I’m not so hot with names.’
Obi was thoroughly relieved, but before he could thank her, she said something about going out for some snacks and then she hung up on him. He put the phone down, settled into a chair, and, with a smile, he reviewed the options he had.
He told himself that to try and talk to his wife, to reason with and make her understand that her place was by his side, that they fit in together perfectly, was an exercise in futility. However, to use forceful means to convince her and make her realize the folly of her actions, would definitely yield positive results. She was a stubborn woman who had to be forced to see the light of truth; otherwise, she would remain adamant and unrepentant about fleeing away from him as if he was some kind of monster. The rebellious singer would definitely be furious with him if he went to her and forced his will upon her; she’d swim in a cauldron of rage and fury against him, but he intended to break through whatever barrier she’d erected around herself so he could get what he wanted from her.
Damn, what is this? Attraction; he was fascinated by her. And then he asked himself if there was any underlying motive why he wanted to bring his wife back to his house apart from the fact that they were wedded under the laws of man and God and he desperately wanted to get his kids back? The power and heady sense of delight that followed the fact that he was married to the most beautiful woman on the big screens of African television was simply exhilarating to him. But, was there something else? And he knew that there was; the vision of Adamma on the screen in one of her music videos_ Falsehood_ her long, sensual body framed by the ocean behind her as she sang out the slow lyrics to the song, her body flashing in her skimpy gown that blew around her by the ocean breeze, was a mesmerizing vision to him. There was something about her constantly moving body, and also the notion and yearning he had that one day she would come to love him more than she’d ever loved another man, all fascinated him too much than was rational.
What was it his father had said? ‘It is nice to be loved by a woman, but to be loved by a very beautiful woman who is very gifted, carries with it a feeling of power and strength that surpasses anything that can be felt by the senses. It is a heady feeling.’
He smiled to himself. He would definitely get his wife back from the unseen hands that had grabbed her away from him. She belonged to him; she was his, and she had no right to run away from him.
He would do anything to have her back, and she was in a pot of trouble if she thought she would remain unreasonable and adamant for long.