Published on June 10th, 2012 | by thetoolsman22
Positive! That was my answer to my brother Gbenga when he asked if I was absolutely sure I had seen his girlfriend kissing another man at the cinema. How I wish I hadn’t seen her. I wish I hadn’t gone to see a movie, but I was bored. I had exams coming up and I had read more than my poor brain could take in. I needed a break. So I called my dear best friend/soon to be boyfriend (but he doesn’t know it yet) and asked him to meet me at the cinema. I still wouldn’t have seen her if Dele had not been 10 minutes late. I probably would have missed her if those stupid skinny-jeans-wearing boys didn’t grab the only empty seats in the lobby leaving me to stand and stare at the girl in the colorful dress with the 30 inch Brazilian hair that just happened to be my brother’s girlfriend.
Positive! Funny how the same word that brought me great joy just a few weeks ago when Wuraola accepted to move in with me can break my heart into a thousand little pieces.
I remember when I realized I was in love with her. I was watching the Barca-Chelsea match and although I knew she hated football, I couldn’t think of anyone else to rejoice with in a room full of agitated fans. Then when a friend said not even sex could stop him from watching a match, it hit me. If I wasn’t watching it with her, the match wouldn’t make sense to me anymore. I would trade a million matches to be with her every second. Two months later, after a brief pause, she agreed to move in with me. The pause should have been my clue.
Staying positive is what has kept my marriage all these years with a man that cheats on me with everything in skirts. Smiling through my pain was an art I had mastered two years into my marriage. My friends thought I would end up with the best man because I was always so optimistic about love. I knew I would find it and I did. But my impatience cheated me. I wanted to be married before I turned 25 and my love needed me to wait 2 more years, so I did the most natural thing and married the next best thing, Folarin. He was rich, easy on the eye and ready to marry me. I was right too; Daniel got married on my son, Gbenga’s 3rd birthday. What I wouldn’t give to get those years back. The only positive things about this sham are my children; Gbenga and Fiyinfolu. My only wish is that they live to bury their sad defeated mother.
Not again?! Don’t these young girls ever learn? What with all the western education and sex education that fly about nowadays? Positive! Again? This is the third stupid young girl that would bring me such test results. “No o. Iro! O ma yo ni. You have to remove it. What will I tell my wife?” Unbelievable! As I storm out of the hotel room, I wonder when my life became this sad excuse. I spend my money on young toothpick girls and for what? So they can buy some horse hair and shoes that can puncture a skull and I can get two, or three at the very best, minutes of pleasure. I don’t even last anymore. Thanks to Aduke. Ah! Aduke mi. How have I come to treat her so terribly over the years? I loved her, I still do. But… she doesn’t love me. Never did. I knew it on our wedding day when she smiled to everybody except me. I found out why on our sons 3rd year birthday. She kept on calling her friend to find out about a wedding going on that same day. She claimed it was an old friend but I knew better. She never could stand my touch, so as the years passed by; I reduced our time in bed just to stop my heart from breaking every time she cringed from my touch. I had hoped that my staying away would make her want me. Maybe if I had acted differently, I would have had positive results.
I am doomed. The one man that wants to marry me, despite all my philandering ways, I have lost. Why? Why did that silly girl see me? Isn’t she supposed to be writing exams? Nothing I can say can get me out of this mess. It’s been two weeks since the cinema incident and he hasn’t called. I have been too scared to call not even when Malaria struck. I don’t know how to explain myself. Maybe I’ll go check him as soon as I leave the hospital. I hate hospitals. The smell, the rude nurses, the sick patients…urggh! Well I just need to do a check up and I’ll be out. My friend finally convinced me to do it and with good reason. The rate at which I fall sick now is just alarming. Finally, I’m here. I hope they don’t waste my time so I can get Gbenga in time for lunch.
Three hours later, “Positive” the doctor said. My mind goes blank as I read his lips. Me, Wuraola Smith- positive? AIDS! Me?! It’s almost like I’m the lead actress in a Nollywood movie. Like Jennifer. I almost want to laugh as I think “spreadst the word and not the firus”. I definitely cannot see Gbenga now. But I have to send him a text. Let him know he needs to be checked.
Smiling through my pain…an art I carried to my death bed. As I look to my sides at my husband that I never loved, my beautiful smart daughter that just graduated with a second class upper and my son Gbenga. Gbenga, my joy, my heart, my seed of love from the only time I strayed from my marriage back into the warmth of what I had lost. God must have sent that girlfriend of his to punish me. She gave him AIDS. She wanted to take my joy away. She failed… I look into his sunken teary eyes and smile. My children MUST bury me…she failed. Of this one thing I am Positive as I close my eyes.
Thanks to Hawtmuppet for sending this in. It’s unedited and she’d like your honest feedback. You can also send in your short stories to editor [at] thenakedconvos [dot] com. Cheers.