Chapter 13 TRUTH IS BITTER

E V E

Slut.

Harpy . .

Wench . . .

Tears fall unheeded from my eyes as my feet move at a fast pace with no sense of direction, each name piercing my heart. They make quick work of the ground, eating it up as I begin running.

I stumble into someone, as I loose my balance and fall. "Look where you dey go, madam." An angry voice chastises me.

I should apologise, but my mouth refuses to move, as something grainy fills it. It tastes coarse, earthy and dirty.

Spitting it out, I sit up and try to get my bearings as I furiously wipe at my face. First thing I see is a small group of three standing at a distance, watching me. They murmur amongst themselves and occasionally point at me.

This fuels my already frazzled state as anger surges through me, making me react. "BUNCH OF LUNATICS, CAN'T YOU SEE I NEED HELP!"

But instead of coming to my aid by pulling me up from the ground where I'm still situated, it does the opposite effect as they shrink back, one by one, slinking away in various directions.

"No, please! Don't go. Help me get up first!" But it falls on deaf ears, as they all play a dissappearing act on me.

Shaking my head in anger, I look down at myself, and shame courses through me, as I take in the state of my clothes. They're smeared with dirt so black, I can't even see the blue of my Jean shorts anymore.

How come the ground is this dirty?

But when I look around, I see tar all over the ground, in preparation of the construction of the road.

Adding to this latest betrayal, is the fact that my waist is on fire with pain, so I slump back into the dirt and begin bawling like a baby.

Time passes and I don't know how long I lie on the ground.

It occurs to me I can't keep lying here and feeling sorry for myself, so I let out a long drawn-out sigh and gingerly stretch my limbs, checking for pain.

The pain in my waist seems to have all but dissapeared, except for a few twinges here and there. I sit up, grimacing, as I look down once more at the blackened appearance of my clothes.

My handbag lies a few feet from me with all its contents scattered around in the tar. I shake my head in consternation when I spot my red lipstick caked with the surrounding dirt from the road. Another one bites the dust.

I spot my phone some distance away, with the screen turned towards me. I can see it glowing, indicating the notifications waiting to be read.

I get up, not bothering to dust myself off, because it wouldn't be of any use. These shorts are history now.

The road I'm on seems closed off to the public, that's probably why as I bend to put the contents back into my bag, all my (vex) money is still intact, as Ebere likes to call it.

You've got to hold onto some money when going out with a guy, you never know when you might need it.

As usual, she's right.

I just never knew I'd be needing it anytime soon, and definitely not when I'm on a date with Aureliano.

How on earth did I get myself in this exact position?

Pain did . . .

And as if on cue, the memories rush back at full speed into my mind, making me physically ill as I rush to the gutter and dry-wretch into it.

When I'm done, I stand up from where I'm doubled up, clutch my bag tightly to me and begin the walk away from this road and onto one where I can get a taxi home.

After standing for what seems like a long time with many taxis speeding away when I flag them down, probably thinking I'm a mental case with my blackened state and I'm sure, wild hair, an elderly man driving a taxi, stops and tells me to get in.

I thank him profusely and clamber in, my bones creaking precariously.

When I settle down, so do my thoughts, and by that, I mean I see the realisation of the stinky situation I'm in.

It sinks into my mind and takes root, making my eyes bulge wildly, my head throb and my heart beat a serious tambourine within it's cage.

Here I am saddled with a man that I love, and who loves me back just as fiercely --- granted --- but who's father killed our unborn child, and whose other son . . .

Good Lord, no!

A memory so keen, so rife, so sharp, assails my mind, instantly transporting me to the not-so-distant past.

I have two grown up sons. His words echo in my head like a bad habit and I involuntary shiver.

It can't be.

But even as the thought steals into my mind, it's already taking root and forming the God - honest truth.

Two sons . . .

. . . and their father.

That means -----

I've been in a relationship with . . . dare I say it . . .

. . . a whole family?

The zing that passes through my entire body is most definitely not one born out of pleasure.

He knew all along.

He knew Aureliano was his son . . . yet, he said nothing to him, did nothing to show it.

Why, Aurey was even working for him. He was within reach all along. So close, yet, so far.

How could he be so heartless. So cold. So conniving?

Another zing passes through me, this one more violent than the first.

So it's true . . .

I'm a . . .

Hoe.

A trollop . .

A Bitch . . .

More colourful words spring into my head, rendering me immobile.

How amazingly disgustingly vile, is that?

I shake my head as fresh tears spill down my face.

Revulsion so rife, is what I feel for myself now as I begin to claw at my tee, almost tearing it off me.

Tremors pass through my entire body as I continue to claw my way into a nervous breakdown.

I make the mistake of looking up, and stare --- right into the alarmed eyes of the taxi driver.

I freeze, as we stare at each other through the rear view mirror.

The way he stares at me is like staring at someone that needs to be paid some attention to --- but not in a good way. He breaks up the eye contact first, when he finds out we'll probably have an accident if he doesn't pay attention to the road.

Thereafter, he keeps sending me worried, darting looks, and my eyes shift --- sharply, to his face. I can't seem to tear my eyes away from it.

I'm transfixed. I can't stop looking at it even if I wanted to.

Everytime he glances at me, his forehead creases up so badly, I fear the skin might fall off from all the crinkling.

Something strange and off-putting suddenly takes place.

A feeling resonates through me, closely resembling gas. It travels at a fast pace through my throat, and bubbles out of my mouth as unwarranted laughter.

Unfortunately, it fizzles out as soon as he sends me one of his looks again, through the rear view mirror.

So I clamp my mouth shut, lest he thinks I'm having a mental break down, and berates himself for doing a good deed by picking me up, thereby dropping me off on the road and leave me stranded.

It wouldn't be far from the truth, though, me almost having a mental breakdown.

I try to keep a lid on my emotions for the rest of the journey by focusing on my now-black jean shorts. Wierdly enough, it keeps me grounded.

I must have fallen asleep at some point, because a gentle tap on my shoulder jolts me into wakefulness.

I open my eyes and stare into the tired, dull brown eyes of the taxi driver. I shriek and recoil from him. "Madam, no fear, we don reach the address of the place wey you give me." (Madam, don't be afraid, we have gotten to your destination).

And the pain comes spilling back, leaving a dull ache in my heart and a throbbing at the base of my head.

I nod and climb down from the vehicle. Gathering some money from my bag, I squeeze them into his hands. "Madam, this one too much for me na, abeg I no fit ----"

"Keep it, please!" My voice comes out scratchy and shrill.

He opens his mouth to argue, but then shuts it immediately again, so I turn around before he's able to let out another word.

But as I take my first steps away from him, his voice halts me in my tracks. "Madam, no vex o abeg, but I want to tell you something."

So I turn back around, cock my head impatiently to the side and wait for him to continue.

When he see's he's gotten my attention, he begins to speak. "Ehn, madam, I see as you dey for inside taxi as we dey come. Make you take am easy, abeg, life no get duplicate. God go do am for you." (Madam, I saw how you were in the taxi on the way here. Take heart, God will help you.)

I nod and thank him wordlessly. As I turn around, I hear him gunning his car engine and driving off.

Each step taking me inside the house seems like a nail being hammered into my heart, but I push on.

As I ring the bell, I try the door handle, expecting it to be locked, but it swings open. This sends alarm bells into my mind, making me pause, wondering if something is amiss, but I push the feelings aside and trudge into the house.

The sitting room is sheathed in darkness as I step into it, making it difficult for me to see, but I've walked through this same room many times in the dark, so I can tell where everything is. I gingerly move around the chairs, taking care not to bump into anything.

As I walk towards the staircase, there's a shift in the air, alerting me to the fact that I'm not alone.

Light explodes, momentarily blinding me for some seconds, causing me to shield my eyes from the glare.

Once I feel it's safe to open them, I see mum sitting on one of the chairs with a grim expression on her face. The light bathes her features in a harsh glow, highlighting her high-cheek bones eerily.

"Where have you been?" Her voice is sharp and brooks no nonsense. She addresses me without even according me the respect of looking at me, making me feel like a child that still needs the go - ahead from her parents.

I don't reply her as I keep walking towards the staircase. As I get to the first step and raise my foot, her voice cuts across to me. Harsh and unyielding. "I do not like that young man that keeps sniffing around you. You were almost a married woman and he broke up your wedding. Now you're carvorting around with him like a shameless hussy that you're not. Did your father and I do something wrong when bringing you up or you're just acting out in your adulthood?"

I whip around so fast, I fear I might loose my balance, luckily I put a hand on the bannister just in time, and face her.

My face contorts into a sneer as I begin speaking. "Were you not there at my so called wedding?" If I wasn't the one speaking, I probably wouldn't have recognised my own voice. It's filled with raw pain. "Did you not hear what happened? You're either stupid or you're just playing dumb, right now."

"You will NOT talk to your mother that way, ever again." Dad's icy voice steals across to me and my head whips up in his direction. He stands tall and aloof, without a trace of annoyance on his face.

If anyone happens to come in at this exact moment, they'd see an amiable-looking man in his fifties having a chat with his family.

What they wouldn't know, is that dad is absolutely livid right now.

His eyes are a dead giveaway. They glimmer with icy cold anger.

But they're not directed at me.

"How dare you, Evelyn?" He faces mum, this time with a hard set to his jaw. "You heard what that young man said on the day of her so-called wedding. He saved our daughter from a terrible fate with that ----"

"Oh stop it, James!" Mum cuts in. This time she stands up and flicks her fingers impatiently, like she's waving away a pesky fly. Them calling each other by their names is a clear indication of a storm brewing. "What terrible fate? Femi made a mistake and I'm quite sure he's sorry about it. But what Eve is doing now is so wrong." She turns to me now with tears in her eyes. "Jo! Tori olorun (please, for God's sake), stop this madness with that young man, come back to your senses and make up with ----"

"With who?" I cut in, anger searing through my veins now. "Make up with someone who killed my child in cold blood -- your grandchild, if I might add? That's right, mother, I was pregnant with that young man's child. I was on my way to see him --- to explain to him." The memory of that day, sends pain ricocheting through me, rendering me speechless for some seconds, but I swallow the knot beginning to form in my throat, steel myself and continue speaking. "Femi took that away from me. So now, tell me mother, how does it feel to know that the person who you keep rooting for, is the reason why you'll NEVER see your grandchildren, through me?" She looks at me, a shocked look spreading on her face. "That's right, mother, I can NEVER have children again, thanks to your most favourite person in the world, the same man who you still want me to get married to."

I stare stonily at her, wipe the tears I didn't know had fallen silently onto my cheeks, and begin the walk up the stairs.

The silence as I walk off is palpable. You can almost reach out and touch it. Almost like a living breathing thing.

They don't say a word, neither do they try to stop me as I walk away from them and trudge silently to my room.

When I get inside, it's in darkness, so I flick on the light, but unlike the first time when I almost jumped out of my skin on sighting him on the bed, all I do now is give him a tired smile.

"Hey, Tom!"

He bounds up from the bed, relief pasted on his face, as he crosses the few steps to meet me. Without waiting to ask if it's okay, he hugs me to him tightly, making it the second time today that my breath is almost cut off.

"Mnnnngng." He realizes what's going on and releases me, alarm pasted all over his face.

"I . . . I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

I wave it away with a flick of my hand and walk to my table where I set my bag down and let out a heavy sigh.

"What happened to your clothes? What happened to you?" I turn around and look up into his sympathetic eyes that are filled with alarm. His mouth is shaped into an o as he stares at me.

Instead of pouring out my heart to him like I would have initially done, I curve my lips into a smile, one that I can only hope reaches my eyes, and shrug, like my heart isn't broken into pieces. Like I'm just fine. "It's nothing, really. Just a freak accident."

He looks at me a moment more and nods. Hoping he falls for it, I settle myself into the chair and face him. "Now, spill. I want you to tell me all the gory details. What was that you said about Ronke almost commiting suicide again?"

And he launches into the story of how she keeps apologising over and over again and telling him she won't do it again.

Same old story.

I listen, only with half an ear. My thoughts keep going to earlier today and how much havoc my heart is in right now.

Somehow, my hand slips into my handbag and comes out with my phone.

As I stare at the slightly cracked screen, a call comes through as Aureliano's name is boldly splayed across it.

I debate on whether to pick it or not, but the erratic beating of my heart drowns out any coherent thought, so I just end up staring at Tomide instead. I watch as his lips move, but I'm not able to make out a sound.

When I glance at my screen once more, Aureliano's name is no longer flashing across the screen. In it's wake, are notifications ---- thirty missed calls, and ten text messages, all from him.

He's loosing it, quite the same way I almost lost it earlier on.

I shake away the anxiety that's begun to grow inside the pit of my stomach, and drop my phone on the table.

The gnawing feeling just won't go away.

How can it?

It signifies my decision on whether to leave, or stay in a relationship with Aurey.

Suddenly, I'm scared.