“Tell me you love me,” I whispered, staring down at my feet.
He paused beside the open door and I could sense his
hesitation.
“I love you Sophia... but you know I don’t really like it
when you ask me to say it.”
Then he cupped my tear-stained face in his hands and kissed
my lips gently.
“Sophia, I’ll never leave you.”
***
I blinked and forced myself to focus on the wedding
proceedings. I should not have agreed to be Tomi’s chief bridesmaid. Not now.
Not when I still had the band-aid on my heart. Plastic smiles look horrible in
pictures and Tomi would never forgive me for ruining her wedding.
So I tried. I tried to focus on happier times.
But I could not remember any. The events of the past few
months had erased them all.
We were going to live happily ever after, we had planned the
wedding and my head was firmly the clouds.
“This is it; this is my dream man,” I’d thought, firmly
pushing the niggling doubts that occasionally arose to the back of my mind.
Like the time you said you don’t like palm oil jollof rice.
The time you said you prefer weaves and wigs to natural hair.
The other time you said you like it when women wear makeup
and high heels.
The day you suggested I dress a certain type of way; sleek
not bohemian.
How you always felt your opinions were superior to mine,
even when the opinions were about me...
But my palm-oil-jollof-loving-natural-hair-minimum-makeup-bohemian-dress-wearing
self shrugged. Marriage is about compromises and surely all these were not too
much to sacrifice for love. Surely there are far worse things than living
without okpei infused palm oil jollof cooked with dry fish and beef. Being
single, for example.
So I stayed.
I bought books, fixed a weave, wore shoes that made my
feet hurt, and lost whatever belief I had in myself.
My voice, which I had only just begun to hear, was subdued.
Again.
But you meant well. You wanted the best for me. I wasn’t
living. You were teaching me.
So I stayed.
Then you left.
***
My phone vibrated.
“Sophia for goodness sakes give Tomi a handkerchief and
adjust her dress. For once, take your job seriously.”
I bristled. The text was from Tomi’s younger sister, Tolu,
who still had not forgiven me for usurping her as chief bridesmaid.
Lesson learnt, Tolu. Lesson learnt.
I hurriedly gave Tomi the handkerchief, adjusted her dress
and even gave her a glass of water. She looked at me worriedly and I said a
quick thank you to God for waterproof mascara.
I took my mirror out of my bag to check my face just to make
sure my makeup was still intact.
Face, eyebrows, lips were still on fleek.
But beneath the layers, I could see the hurt little girl.
And I hear her, for the first time in months...
“Tell me you love me,” she says, in a tiny little voice.
I smile ruefully and wipe the tears that fall unbidden.
“I love you Sophia.”
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