05:37pm, October15,
Ikeja, Lagos State.

Slowly, she stretched her hand and picked up the white stick on the wash basin. Then slouched back on the toilet seat lid and turned the stick to face her. Swallowing saliva, she continued to stare at the two bold lines stained on it.

She later broke her stare and clutched the stick to her chest with both hands. By then worry had settled on her face.

She stared into the unseen distance and poked the inner of her cheeks with her tongue.

Well, am I not damned.

She stared at it again and lowered her head. There was no denying it, pregnancy tests were true ninety-nine percent of the time.

Well, I'm damned, she said to herself again.

She couldn't even start to think of telling him about it. The idea just couldn't be stomached. It would open a new can of worms she'd rather keep closed.

And it had been four days now, four days since she last saw or spoke to him. How she'd managed to survive that long, she couldn't remember. Everyday had just passed like morning mist; damp and weary then gone.

She hadn't gotten that divorce yet. No, she couldn't bring herself to do it now. She hadn't even bothered to call their lawyer. She just wanted to be away from him for now.

She didn't think he was going to get it either. So, maybe she'd get it next year. In January. Then she'd send him his copy to sign.

A memory of that day flashed by again and she shut her eyes as if doing so would shut it away. But it just got stronger.

She sighed and dropped the pregnancy test back on the washbasin.

She hadn't known she'd be leaving him till that moment he had called from the village. Yes, she had been doing a lot of thinking before, but all that time she'd rather hoped she would be able to change things for the better. Had made plans in her head, thought of all she'd tell him, and had even imagined him agreeing to everything.

Yes, she had been confused and worried, but she had hoped everything would change for the better. That she would see to it. He just had to deal with that village problem and they'd be back to normal and try to forget about it. She had expected he'd have a talk with the whole village, make them see the error of their ways and beliefs, even explain Adekunbi's condition to them.

But he hadn't. Instead, while she was busy thinking about how better their future together with their daughter could be, she had gotten a phone call. He had said he was postponing it, but it all meant one thing to her — he had chickened out.

That had been the straw that broke the camel's back.

It was there and then she had firmed her resolve. That wayward thought that had been lurking in the corridor of her minds, the one she had tried not to think about, had suddenly become the best option. She knew she just had to leave him. If she didn't, something like that would happen again and he'd likely face it with the same approach. And, God help her, she wasn't going to sit back and watch her daughter get in harm's way again.

Before he arrived that night, she had made arrangements for a lodge in a hotel in Lagos. That part had been very easy, because it was one of the hotels owned by her parents.

Then she had started packing, that part had been hard.

As she picked out her clothes from the walk-in they both shared she couldn't get away the sadness and grief that creeped up her like a spider in a field. Knowing it was going to be the last time she would enter that closet, that she'd see his clothes or he himself.

But she knew she just had to make that decision. She had to leave that very night. Because she greatly feared that she'd change her mind if she dared stay the night.

Her mind flashed back to that moment he had stepped into the bedroom and she had gotten down from the hanging chair and dropped the bomb.

                             ~~••••~~

'What?!' he had said, when his brain finished processing the bombshell.

'I . . . Mide, I have to do this,' she said, trying to summon confidence from her core. Trying to look like she was very, very certain of what she was saying.

Mide blinked rapidly and staggered into the room. 'You're joking . . . you're joking, right?'

'You've left me no other choice!' There was a slight rise in her voice.

'Babes,' he started, 'what do you mean? I thought things were getting better?'

'Nothing was getting better!' she said, breathing heavily, then managed to calm herself and sit back shakily on the hanging chair. Which was a mistake, because it started to sway.

She gripped a side hard and willed the thing to steady so she could continue. 'Don't you see? This can't work if things continue like this.'

Mide looked more confused than ever. 'Raspberry Ripple, I don't understand anything you're saying. If what continues like what?'

Eartha breathed deep again to calm herself and looked away from him. Just as their daughter came barging in.

'I went to turn on the outdoor lights,' she said as she entered the room. 'Daddy, don't you want to eat now?'

When nobody answered, she paused in her step and then seemed to notice the tension in the air for the first time. Why, it was so thick that it was almost suffocating.

She frowned and turned to look at her daddy. 'Daddy? Mommy? What's wrong?'

Eartha quickly put herself together and got down from where she was sitting to meet her daughter.

'Adekunbi, why don't you go . . . set the table for dinner.' She sighed at the last word, knowing nobody was probably going to be eating tonight.

'Um, but what . . .?' Eniiyi trailed off, still confused. She tried to look at her daddy, but her mommy obstructed her view.

'I'm having a private conversation with your daddy, when we're done we'll come join you.'

'Oh — okay. Is everything okay?'

Eartha repressed a sigh and pat her shoulder. 'Yes. Now go.'

Eniiyi wanted to ask more questions but then decided against and left the room, tossing her daddy a glance.

'Don't you get?' Eartha continued when the door closed. 'You're too nonchalant about everything! I just can't do this anymore!'

Mide made a move to talk, but his wife wasn't done.

'Let me talk!' she said. 'If our daughter had died, wouldn't you have faced the matter with the same approach? Or have you forgotten all that they did to her? She almost died, for God's sake!

'But because it's your village, because you grew up there, you're just going to be lenient on them! You're a coward!'

'It's not like that, I didn't want to sleep over at that place! It —'

'I'm not talking about now! You're always nonchalant to everything and I'm tired of that! Even all that time I was worried about her, you were so indifferent to everything.'

'But what did you want me to do?' Mide's patience was stretched taut and any minute now it'd snap into two. 'Get on the first plane and come take her back? If the network service there had been good, I'd have called and found out sooner.'

Then he sighed and looked at her, his eyes sad. He didn't know if he should go hold her in his arms. God help him, he'd never seen her this angry before. She looked like a quivering volcano, building up lava and the slightest touch would make her erupt.

'Lollipop, what happened couldn't be helped. And I'm really sorry about —'

Eartha shook her head, the tears now flowing freely down her cheeks.

This is beyond redemption.

She picked up her phone from where she had dropped it on the chair and started to head out.

'I'm going to tell Adekunbi to start packing, we're leaving tonight.'

   
                             ~~••••~~

Eartha sniffed back tears and wiped at her cheeks to check if she'd been crying. She smiled sadly and placed a hand over her tummy.

It should be about thirty one days old, if she guessed right.

Little one, we're going to be just fine, she said to her tummy. You'll see.

As if her parents had suspected something, they had called just this morning when she was barely out of bed.
She had tried to mask her miserable look and put on a bright face.

They'd only called to ask about her and the family and she had lied. Had lied that she was doing just great, that her husband was fine and was not around, that their granddaughter was still as vibrant as ever and that she didn't want to wake her up from her sleep.

She had long made up her mind that her parents weren't going to get wind of what had happened to Adekunbi. She wasn't even going to tell them about the divorce till next year — and that was even if she eventually made up her mind to tell them at all.

She didn't want to trouble them. The poor couple would almost worry themselves to death and then take the first plane to Nigeria. 

After all, what you don't know can't hurt you.

That was how convinced Eartha was that everything would be alright.

She was really hopeful for a future where everything would be okay, with her daughter and, of course, the new addition to the family. She'd dedicate all her time to her children and be the best mother to them. Nothing bad would ever happen to them.

They had gone to visit a specialist at the hospital in the past two days and had had topical lubricants treatment arranged for Adekunbi. It would start in December or early next year. Although the doctor had warned them that it might not work.

But Adekunbi had made her proud. She had declared that she didn't mind if topical treatments didn't work. That she was going to be just fine without tears anyway.

Eartha's head had swelled at this. She had been mighty proud of the girl. For being mature about the matter. For being mature for her age. For being strong, despite all she had gone through in the last month. And, most of all, Eartha was proud that Adekunbi was her daughter.

She smiled at this and stood up from the toilet seat. She picked up the pregnancy test and made her way out of the toilet. She wiped at her eyes again with the back of her palm and walked down the hall towards her room.

She was getting used to the apartment already. It was a modest three-bedroom bungalow in an estate with a front yard that almost kissed the estate road and a wide backyard with a garden (where she had discovered she had green fingers) and swing set and a large children's swimming pool.

But Adekunbi had been sulky since that night they'd left Osogbo and wouldn't talk to her past mumbling 'good morning' and 'I'm fine'.

The only times her sullen mood lifted was when it was time to call her dad. Eartha allowed her that much every evening. And the girl would hole up in her room and video chat with her father all evening on her beloved tablet, till Eartha came to call her out for dinner.

But she was hopeful that all these would change once she enrolled her in school. She wanted them to be fully settled before doing so next month. There was a private school that had agreed to take her.

She dropped the test on her vanity unit, making a note to throw it in the garbage later and headed towards the living room.

From the dining room, she could see Adekunbi sitting on a sofa that directly faced her. The screen of her red tablet was bright and she looked to be talking to her father.

The girl glanced up at her entrance and looked away immediately, the corner of her mouth twitching lightly.

'Talk to you later, Daddy.' She smiled at the screen and then plucked out her new, pink earpods.

As Eartha walked up to her, she wished she could erase the young girl's sadness. Thought of telling her about the pregnancy came to her mind but she flicked it away. The girl would probably tell Mide, immediately. And that was what she was trying to avoid now.

Adekunbi still didn't look at her when she sank into the small space beside her. Eartha sighed and pulled the girl into her.

'Adekunbi, talk to me.'

The girl's resolve seemed to have broken at this, for she turned into her mother's arms and buried her head in her shoulder.

'Mommy, I want Daddy back.'

Eartha didn't answer as she ran her hand through her long braids. She was just glad that she was ready to talk to her now.

They were making progress. It was only a matter of time now before everything came back to normal like it used to be before that morning she had come to wake Eniiyi with a tickle to her nose.

They'd be just fine.