I’m not going to pretend I’ve never considered other options. I grew up having fantasies too. I have cast a glance at the tall, dark and bespectacled guy and let out an inaudible gasp. I liked Etuk’s big and beautiful house and imagined how my feminine touch would radiate its beauty better. Ikemefuna has bought me the best fragrances my vain nostrils have longed for. Nosa’s mails and text messages were a beautiful dish of flowery expressions cooked in poetic casseroles. They made me dream most nights.
But. . .
No one else knew that bringing me wraps of hot moimoi on a cold morning were more romantic than endless pings of, ‘’Baby, have you eaten? Go and eat naa. Remember you have ulcer’’
No one else remembered the names of every family member after one mention in a casual conversation.
No one else listened to me rant and instead of saying, ‘’Calm down’’, said, ‘’Omalicha, keep your face that way and take a look at the mirror’’
No one else reclined the car seat for me and played my favourite track on an album after a hectic day at work.
No one else woke me up early to do my morning exercise because they understood I was becoming obsessed with watching my weight.
No one talked about a runny stomach like it were just a headache and says, ‘’I can wind the window down so that you can let out farts in peace’’
No one else held my hands to pray each time I came crying and worrying and lamenting.
Knock no further. Here are the keys to my heart. Nnoo.