ABUSED. Chapter 8

Needless to say, I forgave him. I was upset, hurt and devastated for a better part of the week but I  eventually let it go. I had red grip marks on my arm and I tried hard to understand how the man I loved and claimed to feel the same way think he had to threaten me not to leave him or lay a claim on me like goods. And again, Olajumoke became confused about a lot of things. Did I make the right decision to be with him? Did I still want to be in this? What made him the way he was? I wanted an explanation on how someone can be an angel in one minute and a monster the next minute. I tried hard to act like everything was alright until one Friday night when I had had enough and decided to ask him about it.

"You can't understand," he said with a pain stricken face. "While growing up, I didn't live with my parents. I stayed with my aunt and I experienced a lot of things a child shouldn't. I'll tell you about it one day. I'm so so sorry,"  he cried shakily and I held him tight.

If he hadn't told me that, I would have had the strength to leave him. I felt so sorry for him when I imagined a barely grown child dealing with guardians who showed them a fair share of what abuse was. He begged me to stay and promised help himself. He insisted that he needed me to get through this and made me promise not to tell anyone about it. Not even his parents. I wouldn't have anyways, I imagined how much they would freak out. My uncle would call my parents and I would be banned from seeing him forever.

It was still barely a year and half into our relationship and I didn't want to give up without giving him a chance at changing.
He promised me the world and changed back into his charming, considerate  and loving self. He spoilt me in so many ways and the gifts got more elaborate. He would show up at my office unannounced; bearing flowers as seen in movies and make me feel all mushy inside. I believed every word he said like the total idiot I was. I was certain he would stop, that our love would prevail in the end.

By the time November rolled around, we were completely happy. I couldn't believe the guy that used to beat me was the same guy I was still with; the cycle of violence was over and I was happy because losing him was the last thing I wanted. Kayode was perfect. We spent more time together and his parent's house became my third home. His search for a new apartment intensified and by the end of November, we got a new apartment. It was a very neat new building in an estate at Mile 12, a posh looking room and parlor self contain. The rent wasn't too exorbitant but nevertheless, I offered to help with the payment which he denied gratefully. The day we went to clean the apartment, he held me in a tight hug and whispered in my ear:

"I love you so much and can't wait to be with you all the time," he said.

I laughed. "We're already together all the time," he released me and stared dreamily into the distance.

"One day, we'll work in the same office, live in the same house and never have to be apart. It will be great."

Although  I had totally forgiven him, the thought wasn't as appealing to me as it was to him. I nodded and faked a laughter, not knowing that my decision would be made very very soon. My uncle started keeping  tabs on my movement but never talked or complained. Everytime I got home late at night, I would meet him in the living room, listening to the news or just relaxing on the sofa. He had enough one night two weeks after when I entered the house around 11:30pm and met him on his usual spot.

"Jummy where are you coming from?" he asked calmly after I greeted him.

"I'm coming from Kayode's place. I left the office and went straight to his place," I settled for the truth even though I contemplated lying about traffic.

"And I don't have a phone?"

"Emabinu, I didn't even think of that," I said even though I wasn't really sorry. He must have detected in my tone and stance. I guess that was what finally made him snap because the next thing I knew, he was telling me about how much of a disappointment I was becoming.

"I told you to be careful of this Kayode boy!  He's making you become what we didn't raise you to be. What's  wrong with you? Igba wo ni gbogbo palapala yii bere?"

And that was what made me angry. I knew he hated my boyfriend but I really wanted him to butt out of my relationship, keep his nose where it belonged and respect my choice.

"You know you're not my father abi," I shouted even though he was right in front of me. "If you don't want me here anymore, just tell me and don't complain about me. I'm not a child and you can't control my life. Don't worry, give me till weekend and I'll move out."  I didn't wait back to feel bad about his dumbfounded face before I walked into my room and collapsed heavily on the bed. I had a sudden urge to hear boo's voice but I called him thrice and he didn't answer the calls.

That night,  I slept in my work clothes and I woke up the following morning with a stiff neck.  I remembered the previous night and was hit with mixed feelings. A part of me felt bad for my uncle, a large part of me was elated at finally starting a life together and the last part of me was scared and confused as to whether I was making the right decision. I got my assurance when I told Kayode about it over the phone and he sounded very very happy. We were finally moving in together.