|
It's Not You, Its... -
-
Gerri Okafor
I have known him for so long know and just like many relationships, I have learned to trust him easily. My motto has always been to keep my eyes closed to all faults, but always to keep one eye slightly open for the warning signs of the impending doom.
We’ve been together for so long that I know when there’s a new girl in his life and when he’s going on a date with her and when that fling is over. But I still stick by him, because of course there is something there that makes me stay. Several times over the course of our relationship, we’ve gone through the “I need space” phase that it has become a tune that neither of us really cares about. It has been spoken so carelessly that when one says it, the other merely walks way at that moment, only to call a few hours later. It has become our ritual. As mundane as it sounds, our relationship has become quite dynamic that we fight and make up each week without care. It became a part of us that sometimes it seemed abnormal to go through a week without any drama. Most times I ask myself if this is what a relationship is meant to be. But I still stayed, because I still love him or so I thought.
Today I’m cooking and he’s away at work. The phone rings and I pick up. The girl on the other end does not sound so enthused to hear my voice. I reiterate the same “hello” routine.
“Who is this?” she asks, her voice sounding as if she had struck something bad.
“Who are you?”
“Who is this and what are you doing at my boyfriend’s house?” By now her voice had already taken a different tone because her patience level has been tested.
I’m thinking to myself, well if he’s your boyfriend, how come I’m the one that has the keys to his apartment? Wait; does that make me the house keeper?
“Your boyfriend?” I retorted as if I didn’t hear her the first time.
“Yes!! What are you doing at my boyfriend’s house?” Now she was really fired up.
“Well sweetie, that’s a question you have to take up with him not me. Take care” click
By now I’m smiling at myself. This has taken a familiar turn; this whole “I need space” thing was about to be even more interesting starting now.
I return to the kitchen and resume my cooking, after all a good woman is supposed to remain calm until the opportunity to raise hell presents itself. Looking at the simmering hot pot, I’m thinking if this is not hell then I don’t know what is. See we’ve been in this situation countless times before and at some point I too became the modern woman that I should be and ventured out on my own as well. I needed that comfort and distraction. What’s the point in keeping a house when the owners aren’t returning anytime soon? So I will not be bothered by some raving lunatic bitching about her boyfriend’s house while I’m the one with the keys.
I pace up and down the kitchen counting from 1 to 10 to avoid exploding; by now I can see the stars slowly seeping out of my ears and eyes. It’s not the betrayal fury, it’s not the infidelity fury, but it’s the kind of fury that makes you want to beat yourself by yourself because you should have been wise enough. They say when something happens to you so many times, you’re supposed to look your self in the mirror and chant “I’m not gonna be a fool, anymore” twenty times that it sticks to your head and becomes your mantra for the future. It gets your prepared for the future geniuses who think they can outsmart and outplay you in this game called dating. But I was wrong. I guess all the prep work I’d done so many times, naked in front of my bathroom mirror after shower did not prepare me for this one. Taking a deep breath, I shift my attention back to the pot, by now I have become so wrapped in my own thoughts that I even forgot what the next step was for my cooking. Phone rings again.
“Hello”
“You’re still there? You’re still there at my boyfriend’s house?” now she was furious. She sounded like the tiger had been let out of its cage. There was no way in hell I was going to fight this woman for him. I said to myself on no account should I literally fight for a man unless it’s my brother or father. Even at that there must be a good reason for that. Fighting for a man is like fighting for a position at a company which you’re not even sure that you’ll get not even as a permanent employee. I’d seen too many movies and read too many self help books on this topic to know that any respectable woman does not fight for a man that way. At this point, I had already turned off the phone. Now I’m boiling, simmering with the pot itself. I turn off the stove to see if my temper will cool down too but that didn’t help. I pick the phone and called him. I had no patience to sugar coat my “hello” so I dive right in to business.
“You had better call your little girlfriend and have her stop calling the house like a mad woman.” Click
By now he should figure out which of his little girlfriends to call. It’s one of those things in life that you hear stories of but you never really actually go through it. Some times you come so close to it through your girl friends and you swear that no man born by a woman will ever do such to you. You recant the things you will do if such ever happens; including burning down his apartment like Left Eye did to her ex. But when the reality of it happens, you sit still and focus on getting yourself together so as not to make a scene. You’re most concerned with being a “lady”, whatever that means. Right now I’m fighting the urge to curse this girl out, but then I’m also realizing it’s not her fault. I should have nipped it in the bud when I had the chance but I never did.
My thoughts were paused by a knock on the door. I look out the window and it’s actually the “little girlfriend”. Oh! The nerve! I hiss. The persistent knock continues for quite a while and I choose to ignore it. Practicing deep breaths like pregnant women do when contraction hits, I chant the words in my head “I need my space” but now instead of replacing space with break; I replace the entire sentence with “I think we should go our separate ways, it’s not you it’s…” Then it hit me, if it’s not his fault or not him then whose is it, his little girlfriend or the fact that this has been a recurring issue in our life to the point that it has become an almost incurable sickness? I pace around again, and then return to my cooking. At this point, I could not even remember what I was cooking to begin with but I knew I had to finish it.
The reality of the whole night hit me when I turned off the stove for the last time. I made my resolution within myself not to get upset, but to sleep on it and look to tomorrow for answers. By this time the knocking and phone ringing have stopped. He probably talked some sense in to her. By the time he got back from work, his food was ready. I watched him eat and talked to him just like a normal dotting partner would.
“Are you okay?” he asks. His nervousness showed in his eyes.
I smile at myself, Good job at being a lady, “Yes I’m fine. Now eat because I have to go to bed soon.”
Lying on the bed, I turn to him and I let him have it. So much for my look to tomorrow resolution, at least I was a lady enough to let him have his dinner.
“I need my space from you. I’m not talking about a couple hours space or the type of space where you call me days after. I need the type of space that lasts a life time.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks. Now that was a question that even he should know the answer to, but I made my promise to be a lady till the end.
“What I’m saying is I think we should go our separate ways. It’s not you, it’s…….” my voice trailed off and I realized that I didn’t know what to blame this separation on. Isn’t it easy to blame it on his infidelity or his lies or his deception and betrayals? I sit up on the bed at this point, positioning my self to face him directly, I said,
“It’s not you; it’s your lies, betrayals, deceptions and a million other things that come with you, that I cannot begin to comprehend. I really don’t want you any more because you’re not healthy for me. I’m sick of all this. I’m sick of your lies. I’m sick of your little girlfriends that call and yell and the ones I don’t even know. You know what, I’m sick of being sick!! Point is I’m tired of this whole charade. I need a break from it all. I need to be by myself for my own sanity.”
After saying all that, I lie back down and shut my eyes with a smile on my face and let out a deep breath of relief. I really don’t know when he fell asleep because I was fast asleep as soon as I let it all go.
Morning came and I awoke with a different attitude. Showered changed and picked up my things, mostly pieces of my soul that lay carelessly around his place. I smile at him and kiss him, holding his face in my hands, I said,
“It’s not you; it’s the other you that I can’t tolerate anymore. Take care of yourself. Love you always.” Then I left.
I walked away from him, from the life I had with him. From all the turmoil and all the happy times we’ve had together. The pains and laughs we’ve shared together. The tears we’ve shed and the heart that’s been broken over and over again. The sweet promises of a life time of love, and the numerous times we’ve sang, “I need my space” to each other. I knew in my heart that I loved him still, there was no doubt about that, but at this particular moment, I loved myself more and I have a right to be selfish. Life’s funny. Sometimes you want to work at something because you’re supposed to work for something you believe in. But most times the one thing you think you believe is the one thing that is not good for you and the most important thing about life is realizing that fact.
***************************************************
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: In her words: My name is Gerri Okafor, and I currently live in NJ. I work full time and on my free time I love to write. I enjoy writing on experiences that has touched me and also on the things about life that interest me. I also love to read and I intend to turn one of my short stories in to a novel soon. I love the outdoors and I also enjoy traveling a lot.
Respond
to this Article/Story or leave YOUR comment
|
|
.
