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Lipstick Stain 3


Lipstick Stain – Part 1

Lipstick Stain – Part 2


Part 3

Picking up myself from the hospital floor was so hard. I was in so much pain that I didn’t even go back into the room to check on her before I left.
My heart was hurting and my mind was racing.
How could she do this to me?
Why didn’t she tell me?
I could not fathom how she could be carrying our joy and not tell me.
How could other people have known about it without me knowing?

There was so much running through my mind. Everything I thought about her, I would feel a pain in my heart.
I never got to meet the little one. Always dreamt of having my own son.
Being Arsenal fanatics. Teaching him perseverance by supporting one of the most disappointing teams in sports history or just watching him become his own man.
I also dreamt of having a daughter, helping her find her voice in this misogynistic world, owning her black girl magic and me trying to style her hair because I got the juice like that.
But I was never going to know what that felt like. At least, I felt like I missed out.
Almost like you waited in your home all day for a delivery only to come out and see a missed delivery notice.
It sucks.

I cried the whole way home. I didn’t even let “D” come with me.
I felt truly alone and I just wanted to be alone.
As I pulled into the estate, I didn’t even greet the guards at the main gate. I tried to avoid eye contact.
A part of me was very annoyed with them as well.
How did someone bypass them, shoot my wife and none of them knew?
Idiots.

As I parked the car, I felt like something was off.
How much of it was paranoia of the last few days? I couldn’t tell.
But as I approached the main door, it appeared to have been tampered with.
There were scratches around the keyhole and it appeared someone may have tried to kick the door.
My rage boiled over, I hopped into the car and drove straight to the main gate.
As I pulled up I parked to the right side of the gate, the one not used on a daily basis and I stormed out.
The first words that left my mouth were

“Sunday, where your oga day?”

He looked taken aback.
It could have been the tone in my voice or how I was marching towards him.

“Oga wetin happen?”

Was his nervous reply.
I looked him in the face and said in an irate manner

“Person come my house, shoot my wife. Una idiots no hear anything.
Now person come try break into my house again and no security. Wetin be una job again?
Why we dey pay you?
I swear to God wey create all of us. If anything like this happen again, na me go wound una.
Walahi!”

I didn’t even give them a chance to respond as I stormed back to my car.
I got in and drove out of the estate.
My heart was racing and it felt like misplaced anger but it also felt extremely necessary.
Like damn it! Why was everything in my life so misplaced?

I couldn’t think and I just kept driving.
I did not realize how far I had gone until I pulled into the coffee shop – Cafe Neo.
Before I could tell, I was waiting in line to order.
I took a seat while they made my drink. I wanted to cry some more but a part of me just wanted to be held.
The last few days had felt like a bad dream and I wanted someone to hold me by my shoulders, shake me and tell me that I’ve been dreaming all along.
But it didn’t seem likely at all.

I got my drink and I walked out of the coffee shop.
As I was stepping out, my phone buzzed.
Reaching for it, I moved my cup into my left hand and picked up my phone.
As I answered, the person on the phone said

“Akin, long time. How’s that coffee?
Before you start trying to figure out who I am, I just want you to know something.
Do as I say and everything will be fine…”

I was frozen but my eyes were scanning the parking lot and the side of the road. I was sure the person was looking at me but I couldn’t tell where.
I turned around to look and the voice on the phone continued

“5 million in cash or the next time, your wife won’t survive”

I asked in fear

“Who are you?”

The person chuckled and said

“I know you and right now, that is all that matters…”

……

I hadn’t driven that fast in a long time and trust Lekki traffic, I was stuck.
I immediately called the doctor and said

“Doctor, please make sure someone is there to look after my wife”

Startled he replied

“Akin, I just checked on her less than an hour ago”

I wasn’t having it

“Please put someone with her, I will be there as soon as possible”

Now more concerned he said

“Is everything okay?
I mean her mother is here, I can have her sit with your wife if you like”

I said

“I don’t care, just make sure someone is with her.”

He said okay and I continued to sit there in traffic super annoyed.
At one point, I considered abandoning my car and taking an Okada.
So many questions filled my head

“Who could it be?
Were they following me?
How did they know about Lade?”

Those thoughts sailed through my head and I changed my course as soon as I got the chance to.
I couldn’t be sure if the person was following me.
About 30 minutes later, I made it to the hospital.

Rushing into the room, all I wanted to see was if Lade was doing okay.
She seemed to be asleep.
I greeted her mother reluctantly as I was still very angry about the baby.
I turned around and left the room, Lade’s mother followed me closely.

“Akin duro, je kin ba e soro”
(Akin, wait up, let me talk to you)

I turned around as she held my hand and pulled me to the side.
She fixed her glasses and said

“You are my son and a child cannot remain angry with their parent forever.
I know you are upset and to ba je emi ni (if it was me), I would be upset too.
But I want you to know that we did not keep any of this from you as a secret.
By my understanding, your birthday is on Thursday and Lade was planning to surprise you.
She found out two months ago and felt it would be a great birthday surprise gift for you.
Ma binu oko mi (don’t be angry my son)”

I tell you this now, the way she spoke to me was very reminiscent of some deep talks I had with my mother growing up.
Something about it really spoke to me.
It was like she could see that I was trying to hold the anger and she continued

“Ma binu.
Lade needs you more than ever right now. All of this does not make sense but God is in control.
You are the head of this family and God will do another for you two but right now, you need to be a rock”

I nodded as she reached up to hug me.
I wiped off the tears streaming down my face as she rubbed my back.

She said,

“It has been a rough couple of days, you need to eat and go home to get some rest.”

I shook my head and said

“I can’t leave her. I have to be there when she wakes up”

She smiled and said

“Well before you came, the doctor said they will keep her induced for another 2 days to make sure everything is okay.
I am sure you can get some rest.
I will stay and her father will come and join me later tonight. “

Reluctantly, I agreed.
She then said

“I have asked my cook to make you some food.
She will be here any moment, go home and get some rest”

I wanted to tell her about the call I got but I also can confidently tell you that an African mother is the last person you want to tell that a hit has been put out on her daughter.
So I said

“The only way I can leave is if you can guarantee that someone will be with her at all times”

She nodded and said

“I will not leave her side.
The driver and the cook are outside, come let us go and put the food in your car quickly”

We walked out into the lobby and outside to the car.
The driver immediately stepped out and the cook was in the passenger’s seat.
Someone else was in the back but I couldn’t see till I got closer. The back door opened on the owner’s corner and it was Lade’s cousin, Lolade.
She stepped out and walked around the car.
Lade’s mom’s face lit up and she said

“Ah Lola, Iwo ni. (Oh Lola, it is you)
How are you my dear?”

She knelt and greeted her aunty before I gave her a hug.
She said

“Yes ma.
I had stopped by to drop something my mom wanted to give you and I heard about what happened to Lade, so I wanted to come and check on her.
Akin, how are you holding up?

Has she woken up?”

I forced a smile and said

“Trying love. Just staying positive. No, she is still under. ”

She nodded and said

“It is well.”

I told her the room number while I collected the food from the cook.
I walked over to my car parked on the other side of the lot and opened up the trunk with the remote.
As I lowered the cooler into the trunk, I noticed something out the corner of my eye.
Tucked away in the left side of the trunk, it was staring at me.
My gun.

I was shocked.
How did it get there? I thought to myself.
I quickly turned around to make sure that nobody saw it.
I noticed Lade’s mom walking towards me as she gave instructions to the cook.

“Akin, there should be efo, obe ata ati rice.
Ila alasepo naa wa n be”
(There should be spinach stew, pepper stew with rice and okra)

She said as she walked towards me.
I said

“Thank you mummy”

And quickly closed the trunk.
My heart was racing and I was feeling exposed.
Someone was clearly trying to set me up.

….

We walked back into the hospital and Lade’s mom took her seat next to her.
I was going to leave but I wanted to also make sure that Lolade knew the importance of keeping an eye on her.
Lolade and Lade were born in the same month and their mothers are sisters, so they gave them similar names and raised them together.
You couldn’t separate them growing up until they went to college in different countries and even then, they still remained very close.

As we stepped into the hallway I said

“Lolade someone called me today and asked for 5 million or they would try to hurt Lade again
I need you to please keep a close eye on her and anyone that comes into the room.
I am going to try and get the money today”

She replied with shock

“Wait, seriously?
You are going to get the money today? From where?”

I replied

“I don’t know but I have to. Nothing can happen to Lade”

She responded

“Well nothing will happen to her here.
But don’t worry, I will watch her”

I added

“Also, her parents cannot know. Only you know right now”

She nodded.
We walked back into the room and we were met with elation.
Lade’s mom was standing and quietly motioning us forward.
She was waking up!

As we approached, I stood by her side and held her right hand.
There was a huge smile on my face.
As she smacked her lips and blinked her eyes, she looked at me and smiled.
She looked to the side and saw her mom.
There was a quick frown, almost one of confusion. I think it was then she realized she was in a hospital bed.
She opened her eyes and looked at me closely. I was still smiling and I am sure I was almost crying.
She lifted her hand as if she wanted us to remove the air mask.
I lifted it off her mouth and she swallowed hard before asking

“Where am I?”

I replied and said

“Baby don’t worry about that. We are just glad you are okay”

Before I could continue, I noticed Lolade was walking out of the room.
Lade’s mom said

“Lolade, please help us get the doctor”

Those words were like missiles because instantly, I felt Lade squeeze my hand tightly and say

“What is she doing here?”

Not reading anything into it, I rubbed her hand and said

“Babe, that’s your cousin Lolade”

She tilted her head forward and said

“I know. But what is she doing here?”

The mood in the room quickly changed.
Lolade’s mom and I looked at each other, very confused.
We looked over to Lolade and then to Lade, she looked angry.
I said

“Lade, what is going on?
That’s your cousin. Are you okay?”

Her voice was still weak but her angst was strong.
She said

“Why is she here?
She is the reason I am here”

Lade’s mom gasped and I turned my gaze to Lolade standing by the door.
Her look had changed and she had a scowl on her face.
Her next words were

“You better fucking relax Akin.
Out here trying to play Superman for this one. When the baby wasn’t even yours”


Also, please check out my midweek post “Take Me To Church“.
Huge thank you to everyone leaving comments and sharing the series with their friends! I appreciate it all.


LEAVE ME A COMMENT ABOUT HOW YOU FEELING OR WHAT YOU THOUGHT ABOUT THIS PART. 

~The explosive Part 4 drops next Saturday! Do not miss it~

Follow @adewus4real

Thank you for reading and commenting. You are highly appreciated. 

#SanmiSaturdays

© 2018 #WhatTheHeckMan

#WhatTheHeckMan · 6lack · African · African Fiction · African Stories · Art · Bloggers · Drama · Erotica · Fiction · Life · Sex · Stories · TheRantsShow

Lipstick Stain 2


Hey there! If this is your first exposure to my series Lipstick Stain, you definitely need Part 1. Read it by clicking here. Enjoy and we’ll see you back! 🤗


Part 2

My hands were shaking.
My throat became very dry. I could not believe my eyes.
She was just laying there.
Lifeless.

I couldn’t think of what to do next. It’s like I was shaking in place and frozen at the same time.
I wanted to move but I couldn’t.
Trust me, it is nothing like in the movies. There was no dramatic music or some crazy rush of blood within me.
I just stood there.
Slowly, I began to come to myself. All of this must have been four to five minutes but it literally felt like a decade.
I suddenly got the urge to sit down on the bathroom floor. My eyes continuing to scan the room.
I began to think,

“What happened last night?
Did we get into that big of a fight?
….why would I shoot my wife?”

I was playing her last words in my head. I started to cry.
The tears slowly rolling down my cheeks.
It was really starting to hit me now.
Lade was gone.
And so was my gun.
Oh shit, my gun!

I wanted to call the police. But I felt like I needed to make sense of everything.
So I ran back to the living room and grabbed my phone.
And dialed my best friend Desmond’s number. He picked up on the second ring.
I lifted the phone to my left ear and said

“D – something crazy just happened.
Come to my house right now”

Concerned, he replied

“Guy you good?
Wetin happen?”

I smelled hard and said

“D – abeg get here asap. I need you”

Even more concerned, he replied

“Aight bet. I’m on my way”

I lowered my phone and immediately lifted it up to call the police.
As I began dialing, the unexpected happened.
Lade muttered something

“Akin, help me”

I was so shocked, I didn’t realize the call had gone through.
I quickly canceled it and ran to her.
I knelt down by her side and said

“Babe, are you okay?”
Can you hear me?????

….Baby, I’m here. Stay with me… Help is coming”

She was trying to tell me something.

“Lade, don’t say anything.. I am getting help”

I quickly grabbed my phone and called our hospital.

“Hello, this is Mr. Olaoluwa, I need an ambulance to 56 Hopeville Crescent, Nikon Estate.
Please hurry, my wife has been badly wounded”

Yes, I didn’t mention how she was wounded because let’s not forget that we were dealing with the Nigerian Police force.
I had to control the narrative.
I sat there with my wife until the ambulance came. I was holding her hand until they rushed in and grabbed her.
As they placed her on the gurney and moved her to the back of the ambulance, I wanted to climb in. They told me not to.
Instead, I was asked to meet them at the hospital.

Distraught, I rushed into the house to change my clothes and grab my car keys.
As I made it into my room, I heard Desmond’s voice call out.

“Akins (my nickname) where you dey?”

“I dey room, my brother”

He rushed over and opened the door.
He started saying

“Guy, you good? You got me hella worried…”

His sentence trailed off when out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the blood in the bathroom and the blood-soaked carpet with my footprints.
His face was washed with a mixture of concern and fear as he said

“Akin, what happened?”

I kicked off my shoes and without looking up, I replied

“I’ll explain in the car”

…..

“Guy, that’s what happened…
..I still can’t even explain it”

I concluded the story as Desmond drove us to the hospital.
I continued

“Like, all I remember is that I went to the Nkwobi joint and I got a few drinks and I headed home. I don’t even remember doing anything else.
I at least remember laying on the couch but that is about it honestly.
Like everything feels like a dream bro, a very bad dream.”

I paused, then I said

“…bro, I legit thought she was dead yo. Like I don’t even know man”

Without taking his gaze away from the road, Desmond said

“This is crazy bro. I don’t even know what to say.
Like why would anyone want to hurt Lade? Or you guys?
This shit doesn’t make any fucking sense”

I just shook my head in response, I was still looking for words.
We pulled into the hospital and made our way into the lobby.

The receptionist asked

“How may I help you?”

I replied

“My name is Mr OlaOluwa, my wife was just rushed in a little while ago”

She looked down at her computer and said

“May I see some identification, please?”

I tapped my pocket instantly to pull my wallet and I remembered I had left it in the car.

“Oh it’s in the…”

Before I could finish my sentence, the door opened and our private doctor, Dr. Mensah walked in.
He said

“Stella, let him through.”

She smiled sheepishly as I approached the doctor.
He shook my hand and continued

“She is in surgery already.
The surgeons are hopeful but it’s tricky. She had lost a lot of blood before she made it here.
What really happened?… Come over this way, let’s talk in my office”

He motioned to Desmond and I.
As we walked to his office, I spoke

“I met her like that this morning doc. I myself don’t even know what happened.
I slept on the sofa.
But I don’t know, I would have heard if someone had come in while I was sleeping and I remember locking the door. I don’t even know”

We sat down as the doctor was exploring the options with us when we heard a knock on the door.
He replied and said

“Come in, please”

The door opened and three policemen let themselves in.
One that appeared to be senior spoke first and said

“We are here to see Mr. Olaoluwa.”

I turned and said

“Yes, that’s me”

He continued and said

“My name is Sergeant Dosunmu from Area 14 Jakande police station. We have some questions regarding the shooting of your wife.
We will like you to come down to our station for some questions and to give a statement”

I didn’t even argue, although Desmond was about to.
I thanked the doctor and said

“Doc, thank you for your help. Please keep me posted.
D- abeg call my lawyer. Tell him to meet me there”

….

The ride to the police station was weird.
I wasn’t nervous because I hadn’t done anything, I think I was concerned because, like I mentioned before, this was the Nigerian police.
The whole thing could have gone in many different directions.
I just kept thinking about Lade.

As we sat down in the interrogation room, the sergeant first started speaking to me.
He said

“Sir, tell us what really happened”

I sat up and I said

“I woke up this morning and I noticed my wife in a pool of her own blood.
That is all I remember”

The sergeant and the other policeman in the room looked at each other and said

“That is all you remember?
Don’t you live in the same house with your wife?
Did somebody come into your house and shoot her without your knowledge?

Sir, tell us the truth. What really happened?”

Slightly annoyed and confused, I responded

“What do you mean?
I just told you everything”

The second officer came closer to the table and said

“If you tell us the truth, we can help you. That is why we are here.
The police is your friend”

I scoffed and said

“I told you everything. Why would I want to kill my wife?”

The sergeant replied

“Maybe you were cheating on her?
You know how you young men in Lagos are. You cannot stay in one place and keep it in your pants.
Or maybe you fought each other? Or maybe she was the one sleeping around?”

I growled at that statement and postured forward.
Instantly he said

“Calm down jare, we are just doing our job”

I took a deep breath and said

“Look, gentlemen, I love my wife. I was not cheating on my wife. We just got married six months ago for crying out loud.
We love each other and we go through things like any couple but why would I want her dead?
Besides if I shot her, wouldn’t I have left her to die instead of calling for help?

We had a small fight yesterday but it was over nothing serious. At least not serious enough to shoot somebody”

The second officer, I never quite got his name, pounced on my last statement but laughed first and said

“So you and your wife fought?!
Why did you fight? Money?
You cheated? IDP go tell you, people for this Lagos dey marry and cheat o. ”

I was about to answer when the door opened.
My lawyer, Mr. Ezebuike walked in.
He didn’t make eye contact with me but he said

“Unless my client is under arrest for something, we are leaving”

The sergeant said

“No he is not. He was just telling us how he shot his wife over money.
How much was the money? Let us see your account.”

My lawyer chuckled and said

“By himself, he is worth over 100 million naira. Not even including what his family owns and what he stands to inherit when his father passes.
Gentlemen, I trust you are doing your job but my client is not a suspect, so we are leaving now.
If you need access to the residence or anything else, please feel free to call me anytime.”

He motioned to me and I stood up.
We walked out of the station.

As we walked towards his car, he did not say anything.
Once we got to the car. He placed his hands on the hood and looked at me.
He said

“I am going to ask you two questions. I trust you will be completely honest with me”

I nodded and he said

“How are you and did you shoot your wife?”

I looked at him square in the face and said

“I am still in shock and no, I did not shoot my wife”

He didn’t say anything else as he lowered himself into his car, then he spoke and said

“We need to figure out who did”

…..

Pulling into the hospital, the sun was beginning to set.
I was still able to spot some familiar cars as I made it in.

As my lawyer and I walked into the lobby, Desmond and some notable faces were there.
Lade’s parents were there along with her younger sister and half-sister.
I approached them and greeted them.
I did not get the slightest sense they thought I would harm their daughter whom they knew I loved so much.

“Akin, how are you holding up?”

Lade’s father asked me

“Chief, I honestly don’t know. This is all still a shock to me.
It feels like a dream”

He placed his hand on my shoulder and said

“All will be well.”

That was him in a nutshell. He was never too flustered.
I liked that about him and hoped to be like that one day.

I can’t remember what was being said when the doctor and someone who appeared to be a surgeon walked out.
We had been sitting there for about 3 hours.

He approached me and said

“Sir, can we speak to you in private please?”

I stood up and said

“It’s okay, these are her parents and siblings. You can tell us what is going on”

The surgeon spoke and said

“Thankfully, we were able to retrieve the bullet fragments lodged inside her.
She is stable although in an induced coma. We expect her to recover. She is very lucky to be alive at all. Especially with the amount of blood she lost and how long she was there.
We also have to check for brain damage due to the lack of oxygen to the brain that may have occurred while she was laying there.
Like I said, she is medically stable and we hope for the best.
But sir, she lost the baby.”

White noise.
All I could hear was air. Like air pressure in a plane.
I sunk to my knees. My eyes welled with tears and I coughed up the words. I asked

“She was pregnant?”

Her mom, hysterical and in tears jumped in and grabbed me to hold me up, while she said to the doctors

“He didn’t know yet”

I looked up to her. My eyes filled with tears as I wailed and said

“You knew?”

She nodded sheepishly.
My heart completely shattered.

LEAVE ME A COMMENT ABOUT HOW YOU FEELING OR WHAT YOU THOUGHT ABOUT THIS PART. 

~Part 3 drops next Saturday! Do not miss it~

Follow @adewus4real

Thank you for reading and commenting. You are highly appreciated. 

#SanmiSaturdays

© 2018 #WhatTheHeckMan

#WhatTheHeckMan · 6lack · African · African Fiction · Drama · Erotica · Fiction · Nigerian Writers · Sex · Stories

Lipstick Stain

Part 1

6lack – Unfair

Somehow I could feel myself on the brink of consciousness.
I was a teenager trying to sneak back into the house after a promiscuous night.
I wanted more – sleep.
It felt like if I continued to hear my surroundings, I would lose out on that beauty sleep.
It had been a while since I properly slept. Weeks almost, actually, maybe even months.
And here I was enjoying this day in my 1000 thread count sheets and I was waking up.
I laid there with my eyes trying to adjust to the brightness that enveloped the room through the high windows.

Turning to the left on my side of the bed which was closer to the wall, I stretched out.
As I finished yawning, I looked to the foot of the table and I was met with a glare.

“Shush”

She said.
I smirked back and blew her an apologetic kiss before falling back into the bed.
My eyes were glued to the ceiling and for a quick moment, it felt like what I had always dreamt off.
The woman of my dreams in our home that we built together and filled with love.
I smiled and closed my eyes.
I was about to fall asleep again.

The last words I heard were

“Hi guys! Welcome to my channel…”

I smiled and my eyes closed.

…..

When I reopened my eyes, it was almost evening time.
The room smelled like fresh stew, so I assumed Lade had cooked.
A part of me was excited to eat but as I got up. She looked at me and said

“Oh thank God, you finally decided to wake up… we are going to be late, you need to start getting ready”

I reached over with my left hand and grabbed my phone. It was 4:37pm.
I had been sleeping for 6 hours.

“Babe, why didn’t you wake me?”

I whined.
She smiled and replied as she applied her concealer over her dark spots

“Akin, you needed to sleep. So I let you sleep.
Now you need to get up and get ready, so we can leave because I do not want us to be late”

I heard the reasoning in her voice but I wanted to fight it.

So I said

“But do I really have to go?”

My eyes caught hers as those final words left my mouth.
She launched that famous glare at me again and said

“Don’t even start with me tonight. You know this is important to me.
So please get up and get dressed.
Your suit is hanging in the closet and there is some rice in the microwave. Oya stand up”

Grumpily, I forced myself up and walked to the kitchen. Somehow I allowed the entire Saturday to pass me by.
I am not sure if I was really upset about going out with her as much as I was upset by the fact that I was missing Premier League games.
I was going to need to let it go though.
After all, this was a big night for my wife of 6 months.
She was nominated for the Future Awards Africa under the New Media category and I was so proud of her.
So as much as I couldn’t stand the paparazzi and just being outdoors, I decided to go with her.

The rice was so spicy but so delicious.
I kept drinking water to quell my burning taste buds, these Yoruba women.
Less than an hour later, we were out the door.

The night was typical. Red carpet, some small talk with some industry folks and then quickly the spotlight was firmly set on her as it should.
I found my way to the bar and got a drink before making it to our seat.
It actually was a decent night, now that I think about it.
But it got drastically different when my wife won.
When her name was called, I couldn’t believe it.
You never really do. As a supporter of a loved one, I think you always temper your expectations in the event that the other shoe drops.
Both of you can’t be blindsided.
I remember her “thank you” speech like it was five minutes ago.
She thanked God, her family, team, friends but not me.
I honestly didn’t think too much about it because I assumed that me being directly in front of her, made it easy to forget me.

…..

As we pulled up to the celebration dinner after the show, I noticed that she still had her drink in the door of the car.

“You’re supposed to have finished drinking that already?”

I whined.
She smiled, picked up the bottle and downed what was left of it. I knew it was going to be a good night.
We walked into the venue and I suggested that we grab drinks before the show started.
We snuck into the connected bar and sat by the bar.

I asked the bartender to surprise me with my drink and I think she ordered a Red Bull.
We took our drinks and headed into the main auditorium, the show was about to start.
As we approached the door, we got stopped and took some pictures.

I could tell how beautiful she looked by the stank eyes most of the men flashed at me. She kept beaming that smile behind me and I was all here for it.
We sat right next to each other but I turned her seat, so her back was to me? and we faced the stage.
The entire show, bar when she was on her phone, my hands were on her bum.
I couldn’t wait for us to get out of there.

The show was fun. Lots of laughs, improv nights were always my favorite.
We walked out talking about threesomes – we had seen a lady with a beautiful butt. So beautiful.
I can’t remember who suggested it but we ended up at a club, a few drinks and fist pumping, I was ready to go. I had wanted to jump her bones since she was putting her makeup on at home.

We made it to the car and I couldn’t wait to get us home. She was playing music and we were having a great time in the car and then she asked

“How far away from the house are we?”

I nonchalantly replied

“About 5 minutes”

I smiled and once we hit a red light, I leaned over and kissed her.
Then I slid my right hand up her skirt. She couldn’t concentrate.
Her legs started shaking and her breathing short. I slid her panties to the side and began rubbing her clit.
She was squirming while I was trying to keep the car steady.
What the fuck?
I could feel the chills rising up her back. I wanted to devour but we were almost home.
I remember veering out of my lane and the car beeping to alert me.
I was alert alright, her pink was ready for a beating.
To cap it off, I removed my hand, looked at her and licked her juices off my fingers.

As we pulled in the parking lot, I quickly parked.
I could hear Lil Wayne’s verse on The Motto playing in the background as I reclined her seat.
I leaned in as if I was about to kiss her. She was wrong.
I reached up her skirt and pulled her panties down.
Kissed her on the forehead and hopped out of the car.
She was soooooooo angry!
Like wtf?!

As she got closer, she realized I was holding her panties to my nose.
We entered the house and she sat down on the couch, I made her a drink and pulled down her pants.
I was ready to go.

Her moans were my favorite part. Her hands rubbing through my hair as she cursed and told me

“This is the best head ever”

My inner freak smiled.
I stroked and slurped down her pink, soaking my beard and her dripping on to my leather couch.
I wanted to be deep in her pink and in her guts.
She tried to fight it but wasn’t very successful.
She pushed me off and I walked her back to the room.

I climbed on the bed and she planted her dripping pussy on my face before leaning forward and taking in my throbbing member – 69.
It was wet on both ends of the coast as we feasted on each other.
I pushed her off as I was about to cum, there was a full length mirror at the foot of our bed, I caught a glimpse of myself.
As I laid down, I spread her legs wide, lowered my member into her and started slow.
Cupping her head in my hands and protecting it from the head board, I thrust in and out.
The pace picked up and my profanity did as well.
I gripped on her thighs as the depths my member plunged into got deeper and deeper.
I could see the love and lust in her eyes.
I was pounding it like candied yams and loving it.

I flipped her over – her pink was pulsing. It was ready.
She arched her back and tooted her cake towards me. I licked my lips as I slid in.
I could still feel how wet my balls were as they slammed into her clit.
I grabbed the shit out of her waist and I went to work. It was as if we hadn’t seen each other in 3 months.
I kept at it and so did she, throwing it back like a third draft of a senior thesis.

I could feel myself welling up and getting ready to explode.
So she wrapped her legs around my butt.
I was leaning all the way into her, she was almost falling off the bed as I pounded her pleading pussy.
I wanted it. More of it.
All of it.
I didn’t stop.
She wouldn’t let me stop.
Just as she thought was about to let go, she looked back, damn near from the floor and yelled

“Fill me up”

Boom.
I let go and pumped her full of my heated relatives.
We lay there for a few minutes as I curled up next to her panting for air.
She turned over and said

“Where are my panties?”

I smiled and said

“You’re never getting them back”

…..

“Hey Akin, did you move the money from the First bank account?”

I didn’t turn my head but I answered

“yeah. I moved it to the UBA.
Why?”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed as she said

“Why?
I was going to use it”

Her words weren’t aligning with me. I turned my head to her and with a concerned look, I said

“Use it?

What do you mean ‘use it’?
What were you going to use 3 million for?”

She snapped back

“Why are you questioning me?”

Now I was even more concerned because I wasn’t sure where all of this was coming from.
I looked at her closely and said

“Why am I questioning you about OUR money?
I’m so confused right now”

She didn’t reply and she stormed out of the room.
We had enough, money that is. In different accounts in Nigeria and even in the US and UK, so I wasn’t sure why she was upset and why she thought it was okay to spend that much money without me knowing or signing off on it.
I went back to watching the Sunday night preview of the upcoming soccer games.
A few minutes later, she stormed back in and said

“If this was for you and your boys to go and buy bottles at Quilox, you won’t be asking me who’s money it is o.
Now you are asking me stupid questions. Or if it was to go and flash it for small Lagos girls or Unilag girls, you won’t remember it’s OUR money then”

Something struck a nerve. And I was about to go off.

“Lade, what are you fucking talking about right now?
What is wrong with you? Can I just watch my games in peace?
Don’t you have something else to do.”

She looked dressed to go out but it appeared the situation had her reconsidering.
She walked up to my face as I sat on the couch and snapped the remote control. In one motion, the television was off.
I took a deep breath and I asked again,

“Lade what is all this?”

She replied

“You are a useless man with no backbone and you think you can walk all over me because you are a man”

None of this was making sense to me. So I said

“Please stop.”

It was like “stop” replaced the effect of “calm down” . She went off and began yelling at the top of her lungs.

“Stop what, stop what! You must let me say what I need to say”

I knew my wife and this conversation was only going down hill.
So I walked to the dining table, snatched my keys and I left my house. I first picked up my friend Dare in Ikoyi before we headed to Surulere.
The evening got better.
We talked and compared marriages notes while watching the games.

By the time the games were over, it was already 2am.
I don’t even remember how I got home but I did. I knew she was in the bedroom, so I went straight to the couch and I just slumped into it. She was probably still mad at me anyways, best option was to just avoid her.
The five or six bottles of Orijin I had plus what we smoked had me feeling pretty good.
I kicked off my shoes and that was the last I remembered.

The next morning, I woke up at about 7am.
Sluggishly, I walked into our bedroom. It was really quiet, I figured that she had left before I got up.
I took my clothes off and pulled my towel off the rack as I walked into the bathroom.
Stark naked, what my eyes saw felt like something out of a Game of Thrones scene.
There was blood everywhere and my wife’s lifeless body in the tub.
I was standing in it with my bare toes. I was in such shock, I couldn’t think but I noticed shell casing right outside the tub.
My mind began to race, I immediately connected one dot.
I turned and headed back into the room, bloodied feet and all. I bent down next to my side of the bed and pulled out a lock box.
My hands were shaking as I opened it up.
My gun was missing.

I knew I was completely fucked.

Glad to be back and writing again!
This series is going to be a lot of fun. I promise you. Please leave me a comment and share how you felt this part. Means a lot. Thanks!

 

PLEASE COMMENT. 

~Part 2 drops next Saturday! Do not miss it~

Follow @adewus4real

Thank you for reading and commenting. You are highly appreciated. 

#SanmiSaturdays

© 2018 #WhatTheHeckMan

#WhatTheHeckMan · African · African Fiction · African Stories · Art · Bloggers · Drama · Fiction · Life · Stories

Black.Gay.Waiting 4- The Finale.

Black, Gay, Waiting 4

I could feel the heat in my ears.
Also in my fingertips. It felt like someone was standing behind me and forcefully pushing down on my shoulders. It just felt like a weight was on my shoulders and I couldn’t breathe.
We were sitting at one of the restaurants in the airport, I can’t remember what it’s called but I wasn’t paying much attention to anything else.
My mind was racing and back to a familiar place. A place I had hoped getting on a plane would keep away from – for good.

“So Dee, I didn’t want us to meet like this but I am glad that I was able to reach you before you got on that plane.
I know you must have a million questions and I promise, I am here to answer them all.
I am tired of having to keep you in the dark”

I just sat there silently.
Sandra pushed the cold bottle of water that she had just bought towards me.
I didn’t even look up. My eyes were fixed on a chip in the tile.
It truly felt like if I opened my mouth, it would be a watershed of tears.

With my left hand, I reached for the bottle and twisted the cap open.
I took two full gulps before I looked up and said

“I don’t even know the questions I should start with…”

He straightened up and then said

“I completely understand… how about this?
I’ll start with the things that I think you need answers to and you can fill in?
How does that sound?”

I nodded without making eye contact.
He started and said

“I have known your mother since we were in university and before she met your father, we were very much in love.
But we had different life goals at the time. I wanted to move to Ethiopia to work for Shell and your mother wanted to teach. Everything happened very fast and before I knew it, she was off to the States with your father.
I never even got the chance to stop her. She was gone.
And I had to settle with that for 6 years, until they moved back to Nigeria with you.
We met up and at first, I was just glad that she was back and I was able to spend time with her.
I very quickly noticed that she was still in love with me and I never stopped loving her anyway.
One thing led to another and we were sleeping together and basically living our lives outside of our marriages… yes I briefly got married but it didn’t last because I was not in love with her.
I loved and I still love your mother very much. “

I looked up with a scowl on my face and said

“So why didn’t both of you just get divorces? And save us all the pain”

He looked down and sighed before saying

“We should have. I totally know we should have.
But there are certain things I am not able to speak about. She has to be the one to tell you much of what happened”

Sandra placed her hand on my lap and said

“Dee, are you okay?”

I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. I just kept my head down and continued crying.
She moved in and hugged me tightly. It just set me off even more.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see people worriedly looking on, trying to decipher what was going on.
This went on for a couple of minutes and then I stopped.
I looked at him and said

“I need to talk to my mom”

……

HONEST MOMENT: For many of you reading this right now, I know the numbers, you won’t leave a comment. I think this blog is one of the purest forms of my expression. I am the most real here in what I write and what I create for you all. 
Your comments and interaction go along way. They encourage me to write more, post more, think outside the box and sometimes they simply make me feel better about life. 
Even as I write my novel, your words go a long way to fighting the imposter syndrome and doubt that sometimes aim to derail me. 

So this is all to say, please leave me a comment when you read something. I am open to criticism as well. It’s the best reward a writer gets. Thank you all. Now back to this captivating story!

…..

After more than an hour in traffic, we pulled into our home.
I think all our workers were surprised to see me coming back so soon.

“Oga wetin happen?”

one asked.
I just ignored and walked into the house. There were people there.
Two of my mom’s childhood friends, and they immediately smiled when they saw me.
One of them, Aunty Dolapo brightly said

“Dee baby! Look at you all grown up.
You’re a big man now. I remember when I used to cradle you to sleep. See you now!”

As she rubbed my back.
I sheepishly smiled as my mom greeted Sandra

“Ehn, bawoni Sandra” (translates to how is it going?)

She knelt in courtesy to my mom and my aunts.
As she rose, the main door quietly closed. Everyone including my mom looked towards the direction of the hallway that connects the main entrance and the sitting room.
My mom curiously asked

“Did you guys close the door when you entered?”

I didn’t answer.
I knew what was about to happen. She wasn’t ready and somehow I was happy about that.

The hallway was dimly lit and connected a few rooms, so the image was going to come as a surprise.
A few moments passed and there he was.
My mother’s lover.
As he emerged, she gasped. They all gasped.
Not because they didn’t know who he was but because they were surprised he was there.
They all knew who he was from their time in college.
And I would later find out that they knew about them sleeping together for more than two decades!

My mom found the words and said

“Lamide, what are you doing here?”

He didn’t respond as he took a few more steps into the room.
A quick glance around the room and you could pick up the jaws of my mother’s friends off the ground.
They couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Olamide!
Ki lo wa se ni bi????”

She screamed at him.
He didn’t flinch and he moved closer. Then he said

“I didn’t think it was right for him to leave like that. You can’t push him away because your world is changing. He deserves all the love he can get.”

She snapped, and you could tell she was trying to hide something.

“Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do???
Who gave you the right?!”

He took a step back.

“Who gave you the right?!”

She continued.
I stepped in and said

“Here I was thinking I was the fucked up one. I have attempted suicide. Wanting for the whole thing to end. Yet here you were with secrets so big that they have killed people for less.
You are evil.
You tried to ruin my world when you were living a lie! And you go to church and mount the pulpit like some holy person. You are fucking evil!
I wish my father could look into your eyes and see how much you lied to him and cheated on him for years!
Gosh I hate you!”

As I wrapped up. She quietly laughed amidst her tears and said

“He knew”

I didn’t hear her properly so I asked

“Huh?”

She looked up teary eyed and sniffling as she said

“He knew!”

I was shocked but she continued and said

“He always knew.
This was always his idea. Your father was a dog when I met him.
He wanted to be with anything, man, woman or whatever. I had to keep his secret and the whole marriage was a cover!
For many years, I had to pretend to love him and be happy. I couldn’t anymore. So I decided to be with someone who actually makes me happy.
And your father knew about the whole thing… It was all his idea”

I couldn’t believe her so I asked

“So why didn’t you just get a divorce?”

She laughed and said

“Omode lo n se e
(Your naivety is evident)

We didn’t get divorced because your father never wanted a divorce. He wanted to keep his ministry and getting a divorce would break that. And yes, more than accusations of him sleeping with men.
After all, there are men of god who lay with other men or people’s wives”

I was fully enraged at this point.
I started yelling

“So you and your husband had a plan to live your lives but you crucify me for being myself.
For something I am not even able to control?????
You are both devils. OMG!
I can’t even believe this shit…. Arghhhhh I wish I could strangle you!
I pray you rot in hell. You are wicked.”

Olamide stepped in and said

“Dayo, I know you are upset but we don’t need to say all that”

I turned to him and said

“Fuck off!”

He put his hands out and moved them as if to try and calm me.
I continued and said

“Why do you even care?!
She had you in the shadows for 22 years! And you are okay with that?”

He smiled and said

“I had to keep her close. It was the only way I could stay close to my son”

My mom screamed

“Olamide!”

My jaw dropped. Both my aunts sitting gasped and Sandra just stood shocked.
I moved forward and said

“Excuse you?”

He straightened up and said

“You are my son”

I shot a look at my mom and she couldn’t hide her face fast enough. More tears flowed down her cheeks.
I looked at my mother and said

“What is he talking about?”

She dropped her head and said

“Your father couldn’t have children!
It was part of what made him live so recklessly. I wanted children. I thought I loved him and when I found out I was pregnant, I didn’t even try to debate it.
He always knew you might not be his but he was willing to go along with the lie because it protected us”

I couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth.
He spoke next

“I knew something was off by how quickly your mother married him and how they ran to Boston.
I think she was pregnant and her family would have killed her. So she married the man that was ready and moved with him.
When I first set my eyes on you, I knew you were mine.
I was just glad God brought you back to me. I have always loved you from afar.”

“Yet you watched me suffer for years in the hands of this woman?
Some father you are”

I snarled back and stormed out.
Sandra followed me and soon we were gone.

…..

It had been three years since that day.
I hadn’t spoken to anyone in that room that day except Sandra.
And I was living in Virginia now.

One evening, I logged into Facebook after a long day of work.
I had so many friend requests, many of which I continue to ignore. As I was scrolling through, I clicked on the messages tab and noticed a few messages.
One of them was from Micah – remember him?
The deacon from way back.
Apparently, he had messaged me a few days before I opened the message.
He had won the visa lottery.
He was coming to America.

I don’t know why, but I smiled at the laptop and a soft voice said

“Babe, what is making us laugh?”

I moved my laptop to the couch with my left hand as she straddled me.
I said

“One of my childhood mentors is coming to America and wants to stay with us”

She smiled and said

“Oh thats dope. How long?
They can stay in the guest bedroom”

I nodded as she kissed me and said

“Look at us making adult decisions.”

I chuckled and she said

“Would this be before or after the wedding?”

while getting up and heading for the kitchen.

“After”

I said.
She stopped, turned and said

“Ooooh, so I’ll already be your wifey. “

I nodded and said

“Yes you will”

She did a shimmy dance with a huge smile on her face as she walked out.
I turned to my right and saw the stack of wedding invitations we were about to mail out and only one thing came to my head.

“WhatTheHeckMan!”

The End.

Please help pick my next series!

Pleaseeeeeeee leave me a comment and let me know how you felt about this part and the entire series. It means a lot!

Thank you for reading the #BGW series with me! I thoroughly enjoyed writing it for you all and I hope you enjoyed the ride with me. If you hate me for how the ending panned out, I AM HERE FOR IT~ 😊

Another series by The Wordsmith is already cooking! @adewus4real

Thank you for reading and commenting. You are highly appreciated.
Thanks for the love and support.

Stay up

#SanmiSaturdays #WTHM #BGW4
© 2018 #WhatTheHeckMan

#WhatTheHeckMan · #WordsofWednesday · African · African Fiction · African Stories · Art · Bloggers · Oakland · Poetry · Stories · TheRants · TheRantsShow

Unpacked & Abandoned

I called you, twice
It kept ringing
No answer
The next time we talk
It will be over
The story
The movie
Battery, dead
Love?
Left.


Unpacked & Abandoned.

You ever moved to a new place and as you are planning to leave the current place, you decide that certain things won’t go with you?
The old bed frame, that broken toaster, the deadbeat partner? 👀

Unpacking is a cornerstone of growth and change.
Sometimes we don’t actively recognize that but it is so important.
The mind is like a train, things come in and get off, some come on and never get off. There is so much that will influence you in life but not all of it needs to enter your next phase with you.

Recently, I started thinking about the things that I have experienced in my past that I still carry around with me and how they could be affecting my future.
Yes, he cheated on you or you let her walk all over you.
Unpack that and set it down, so you can thrive.

Many of us allow those interactions/experiences/moments define us going forward. It is important to cherish some things in the now but let them go.
Why are you always worried about what he might do to hurt you?
Why do you always get defensive when women get close?
Have you seriously unpacked the things that you carry?

For the first few years after my relationship, I couldn’t imagine feeling the amount of love that put me at risk of getting as hurt as I did.
I actively avoided anything that will allow me to fall that hard for someone. In some cases, I would blatantly self-sabotage myself to prevent chances of being hurt.
I had to stop once and ask myself, why do you keep carrying that around?

The annoying thing with unpleasant things you haul around is that it is sometimes the first thing new people see when they meet you.
In the second conversation, your hurt, doubts, and insecurities start showing and he/she wants to run as far away from you as possible.
And the part that sucks the most is that it is so far away from who you really are.
Set some time aside, the things you have seen or been through are all very valid but they should not govern your life and your path forward.
What are the good things? Note them and cherish them.
Everything else? Let them go.

It is not enough to unpack.
When you take your stuff to Goodwill or Salvation Army to donate, you don’t later go back to buy it.
It takes intentionality to thrive and move forward.
You need to make it a daily choice to bask in your greatness. You have let go of the “waste”, now focus on the great.

Most people will reckon that packing can be difficult because you don’t know what you will need where you are going.
It is much easier after a trip to know what you don’t need for the next one. So toss it.
Abandon it, you will be better for it.

 

#WordsOfWednesday
#WTHM
#TheRantsShow

Black.Gay.Waiting Part 4 out on Saturday!
Please watch this space!

Thank you for reading and commenting. You are highly appreciated. 

#WordsOfWednesday
© 2018 #WhatTheHeckMan

#WhatTheHeckMan · #WordsofWednesday · African · African Fiction · Art · Bloggers · Drama · Life · Oakland · Poetry · TheRantsShow

The Big 30 (Minus 3)

The Big 30 (Minus 3)

It’s 5:02am and I up!
Super thankful to God for another year and just stoked to try and achieve more of my dreams in 2018.

I always pray a prayer; I thank God for being faithful even when I am faithless and unfaithful.
That prayer means so much to me because it is thanking God for being God but also reminding myself to be better.

I’m up. It’s my 27th birthday today and I feel blessed.
Most of my friends usually have what I like to call the “birthday blues” around their birthdays and for the first time in my life, I experienced what that felt like yesterday.
Randomly, I went into a funk. I started to question and dissect my life, my happiness.

A part of me was missing my parents, my siblings and some of the friends I hold dearest to me.
There was also this sense of emptiness that tried to fill me up. Weird right?
But thankfully, I was able to circle back into the things I appreciate about life and the life God has given me.

I am a heavily flawed man.
Some think I am short tempered, I am not always patient, I can be dismissive and I really can’t f-cking stand puff puff. And I’m going to bald soon! Ughhhhhh!
So yeah, I am a flawed man.

But I also love really hard, forgive easily, fight for those I love and I will go to bat for any of you!
My story is not perfect but the best part is that it is not complete.
God is still working on me and I am thankful he has you on my ride.

Today, I celebrate God in me.
Humbled by his grace, love and mercy. I truly thank God for not giving up on me.
Yup! I said I wasn’t going t cry but I typed that and the floodgates opened! Where is Sonny Badu when you need him.
But my God has been so faithful.
26 was good. Challenging but good.
27 can only be better.

To mark today, I am going to give you guys 3 sides of me.
Please never let the chronological expectations of life rob you of your birthday glow! And please do something you will be proud of in 2019. Read my 2018 mantra – Sink OR Swim here and then take the leap!

From the desk of The Wordsmith, it’s a very special edition of WordsOfWednesday! Happy Birthday to Me!


1.

THE FLAWED ME

It’s clear
My mistakes are like a parking ticket.
After driving fast and evading reality
It caught up to me when I was parked trying to walk and not run.

I am like Adam.
Stealing from God, betraying his trust and rejecting his favor
Ungrateful son
Putting myself to the sword
It feels good
To return home like a prodigal son

I tried to sneak back in
The alarms went off
He saw me from a mile and around the corner
Like my pops
He didn’t say much
I knew I had done wrong
So I snuck into my room and cried
When I emerged, he had dinner ready
The keys to his ride
To a higher place

He didn’t speak about my mistakes
He didn’t have to, I knew
We knew
I just had to not make them again


2.

“You Are God” – Nathaniel Bassey
(feat. Chigozie Achugo)

You are God from beginning to the end
There’s no place for argument
You are God all by yourself
You are God from beginning to the end
There’s no place for argument
You are God all by yourself

You’ve got times and seasons in your hands
You called for light out of darkness
You don’t need a man to be the God you are
But you have chosen to call me your own

There is something about this song. It makes me so humbled by where I am today.
Sometimes I think back to all of the lows in my life and how I thought I would never pull through. From heartbreak to betrayal to backsliding, God has always got me.
It is so humbling and scary that someone can love you through all of the “everything”. So I wanted to share this song with you all.
The lines in song that really get me are

You don’t need a man to be the God you are
But you have chosen to call me your own

Like this God really took me through it all and doesn’t need any man or what any man says to be amazing to me. I am so grateful.
I am far from perfect and evolving but it is so comforting to have a God that will never forsake me.


3.

27 THINGS ABOUT THE WORDSMITH

  1. When was the last time you cried?
    This morning. Panic not, I was just overwhelmed by how good God is and how loved I am.
  2. Do you have any special talents?
    WHATHECKMAN! 😊
  3. Do you have any siblings?
    3 absolute rockstars!
  4. How would you describe your fashion sense?
    London living Bachelor with NY taste and Italian Influence who still wants you to know that omo naija ni mi
  5. What’s the #1 most played song on your iPod?
    Hola Hola by Sugarboy
  6. What sound do you love?
    The sound of my direct deposit hitting my account.
  7. What is your favorite form of exercise?
    Partner exercises. 👀
  8. Which celebrity do you get mistaken for?
    Pleasure P.
  9. What was the first thing you bought with your own money?
    My car.
  10. What story does your family always tell about you?
    My mom loves this story but when I was a little kid somewhere between 2-3, I had bow legs but I Was cute as shit! (yes, she includes this in the story) Anyways, we had a TV in their bedroom and in the living room, so I would turn on both of them and then run back and forth between rooms to try and see if the Tv’s were showing the same exact thing. Of course by the time I made it around the corner, the frames would have changed but yeah, young me.
    For the sake of today, I’ll tell you lot another one but my mom always talks about growing up as a kid, I would always come to her with a smile. No matter what happened the say before. I would be singing and barge into any room in the house with a song in my mouth. And when I am around my parents, it still happens.
  11. When was the last time you had an amazing meal?
    Brethren, it depends on what kind of meal we are talking about. 👅😴👀
  12. What do you want to be when you grow up?
    As per sey 27 never grown abi? Okay o, I sha want to be impactful. No matter what I lay my hands on, I want to positively change lives.
  13. If you had to work on only one project for the next year, what would it be?
    A way to bring free education to all the kids in Africa.
  14. What would you do if you won the lottery?
    Short answer:- Change lives
    Long answer:- Hennessy ti wo body!
  15. What do you do when you’re not working?
    Be alone, write, listen to music and talk to my friends. Also started watching sermons on Youtube again, so yeah that too.
  16. When people come to you for help, what do they usually want help with?
    Someone to talk through their problems with and bounce ideas off. Wide range of things to be honest.
  17. What is your favorite way to relax?
    Laying on my carpet in my living room and not being spoken to.
  18. What social customs do you wish would just disappear?
    Basically, anything that marginalizes or oppresses women.
  19. What is your favorite holiday?
    Touring Europe with Itafe.
  20. Tell us one of your bad habits!
    I am very stubborn. And sometimes when I form opinions about something and I feel strongly about it, I rarely change my mind. I can be dismissive. I am a horrible texter (blame this on people that write me essays tho). I forgive people that have repeatedly burned me.
  21. Favorite memory from childhood?
    Christmas at my grandfather’s house with all my cousins from all over the world.
  22. Favorite smells?
    Cologne. A particular brand of perfume that a friend of mine wears. Just anything clean or from Bath and Body Works.
  23. What’s the first thing you notice about people?
    How they treat other people, how loud their voice is or isn’t. Teeth as well. Does it appear clean or not?
  24. What terrifies you the most?
    That I am a fraud or that I won’t maximize the potential I see and people see in me.
    I was really bullied and taken advantage of as a kid. Boarding school was initially rough. It stuck with me.
    Self-esteem issues and confidence issues. Maybe that’s why I am never able to enjoy my successes, I am always looking over my shoulder. Worried about the drop. I never understand why people like me or are fascinated by me. I think I am a decent host and writer or singer. People want me to write a book but I worry like it failing will break me and reinforce my fear of not being good enough, so I have stalled on it. But yeah, I don’t think I am handsome, I don’t get what people see. And I think all of that came from those childhood feelings. So there you have that.
  25. How much control do you really have over yourself?
    Too much. Sometimes I just need to let myself live.
  26. How would you describe yourself in 5 words?
    Flawed. Talented. Emotional. Loving & Shy.
  27. What makes you smile?
    Honestly, making you and all the people I love smile in every extension of myself.

Thank you for always supporting me and being here with me!
Here is to an AMAZING 2018 for all of us! From The Wordsmith and all of WhatTheHeckMan ~ I love you all!

Bless.

Come back next week for Part 4!
#BGW #SanmiSaturdays #WTHM

© 2018 #WhatTheHeckMan

#WhatTheHeckMan · African · African Fiction · African Stories · Art · Bloggers · Drama · Erotica · Fiction · Life · Poetry · Stories · TheRantsShow

Black.Gay.Waiting 3

Part 3

Our house was probably more silent than the morgue in the following weeks after my father’s passing.
My mother didn’t cry much. I was really surprised, that was always how she was.
Funny enough, my father was always the emotional leader of the home. He was very in tune with feelings around the home.
I remember once when my “friend” had a birthday party and invited the entire block but not me.
I sobbed all day in my party outfit.
My plan was to crash the party but my mother shut that down. I was not going to be out there embarrassing my family.
Notice any patterns?
That evening, my father came into my room. He was fully clothed in his all white agbada, I was only 13 and he sat with me and played video games all evening till I passed out in my outfit.

That was my father.
He always had my back, even when I was unsure and just out of it.
And I loved him dearly for it.
So you can imagine losing him under the circumstances that we did.
I was crushed.
I stayed up in my room as the funeral planning went on.
The church was handling much of it and my mother was just in the house with no one feeling confident enough to approach her.

It was about 4am in the morning when I heard a car honk.
A few minutes later, I heard the doors open and voices became more pronounced.
At first, I thought it was more people coming to pay their respects but it didn’t make sense for them to be there that early.
Shortly after, I heard a mild knock on my door.

“Come in”

I said
The door swung open and it was one of my mother’s cousins. I barely sat up when she said

“You have guests. Mummy wants you”

I felt my heart skip a beat. My mother had not spoken to me since that day at the church.
I wasn’t sure what was going on but I slowly got up.
Slipping into my clothes, I headed down the stairs.
When I arrived at the living room, I noticed it was filled with about 15 people. My mother was sitting in the big chair that my father used to sit in.
Her hands between her legs and clad in an all black gown, she barely lifted a brow as I took my seat.

As I scanned the room, I noticed my dad’s cousin to my left.
He lived in Saudi Arabia and the last I heard, he wasn’t in town.
I greeted him and sat with my head bent.
He opened the meeting with greetings before addressing the passing of my dad,
the upcoming funeral and how he wanted things to go moving forward.

“….I know you are still grieving but whether you like it or not, this is your son.
God did not make you a barren woman. He is your responsibility and I have never known you to be one to shelve your responsibilities.
Now the circumstances we find ourselves in are very unique and unexpected but this is still a family.
God gives and He takes how He feels best but He gave you this one and made you guys one. We can only ask for His mercy and guidance because we cannot do it alone or by our reasoning”

He stopped and looked in my direction as he said

“…you are a man.
Regardless of your orientation or preferences. You have to step up and be the man of this house. You have to be there for your mother and be her rock”

This was a man my mother and my entire family greatly respected. He rarely spoke but when he did, people listened.
So it was surprising when my mother blurted out

“No!
We had a man of this home. He is a disgrace to this family and to God!”

She was crying as the words left her lips.
I am still not sure how it happened but I stood up and snapped.

“Are you serious?!
Are you being serious right now?
I did everything you asked for a son. I am at the top of my career, I don’t steal or cheat.
I have never brought reproach to your name, but the moment I want the freedom to love who I want, you want to call me a disgrace.
You publicly humiliated me!
Your own fucking son!!!! I am your son first and foremost!
There are people that have sons as murderers that stand by them. But the moment I want to love someone, I am the disgrace?
You are the disgrace! You dragged me in front of the house of God to shame me!
What kind of God do you serve?
Where is that in the bible? Call me a disgrace, in fact exile me!
Once the funeral is over, I am going back to America. You can have your perfect home since you want the whole world to think everything is perfect in here!”

I was standing and the whole room was stunned into silence.
I took a deep breath and said

“Uncle, thank you for your wise words but there is nothing here.
This is not my mother. I am done”

I walked out of the room as he called my name

“Dayo! Dayo!!!”

I just kept walking to my room. I locked the door and curled into the bed.
That night, I missed my father more than ever.

…….

The funeral was as you would expect – big.
There were so many people from all over the world. His church folk, friends from his days at the Rotary Club, high school buddies and just random folks.
Everyone came out to pay their respects.

My mother and I didn’t stand next to each other like you would normally see in movies.
There were a few family members standing between us.
Dressed in all white, my mother said my father would not have liked us in all black, I stood and just counted down the minutes.
It was scorching hot and humid.
The sermon was long and unnecessary.

Tears rolled down my eyes as he was lowered into the ground.
Even more when I poured the dirt on the coffin.
I think it really hit me then that he was gone.
Sandra was right next to me as we turned away and headed to the car waiting for us.
There were traditional drummers singing my “praises” as we walked to the car.
They were expecting a token but all I wanted was my father back.

I got into the back of the car and just stared out of the window.
We went back to the house. Sandra and a few of my other friends were in my room with me while I laid on the bed staring at the ceiling.
What next from here?
I thought to myself.

…..

It was 3 days after the funeral.
And I was packed and ready to go. Sandra was taking me to the airport with her boyfriend Eugene.
All of my suitcases were loaded into the car.
Dimeji walked up to me and said

“Oga, you sure see you wan go like this?
At least wait make mummy come back from where she go with her friend”

I nodded and said

“Oga D, time don reach to day go.
E better like this. No wahala for anybody. Take, use this one by biscuit for Salewa and Timi”

I handed him some money in his right hand while supporting the firm handshake with my left hand.
He pulled me in and gave me a hug.

“We go miss you for here sha.”

He said with a saddened look on his face.
I forced a smile and said

“You know sen even when I day go school for that side, I day always call na.
I go day whatsapp una. “

he nodded and I lowered myself into the car.
Off we went, I remember buying Gala and Fan Yogurt on my way to the airport.
I couldn’t wait to leave all of this behind.

I was lost in thought when I heard Gaga Shuffle come on the radio, I turned and looked at Sandra who had a wry smile across her face.
We started singing as I pulled out my phone to record a snapchat video.
As I watched the playback I said,

“You know I’m going to miss you right?”

She rolled her eyes and said

“You’re going to see me in a few months. Literally less than 3 months!”

I smiled back and said

“But it feels like forever!
You better buy enough plantain chips when you are coming. Otherwise, I am turning you away at the airport!”

She chuckled and said

“Come on, you know I got you always”

We parked the car in the garage and used the trolleys to get my bags to the terminal.
Check-in was fairly smooth but for the waiting in line.
I had weighed all my bags at home and paid for the excess luggage online to save time at the airport.
The attendant asked me

“Where is your final destination?”

I replied

“Washington DC”

She smiled and handed me both of my boarding passes before tagging my bags.
I walked back to Sandra and gave her a long hug.
As I let her go, I said

“You know, I actually have time before we board, we can grab food and chill at that spot”

pointing towards a restaurant.
She smiled and said

“I wish I could but remember I have my fitting for my cousin’s wedding. Have to make it back to the Island”

I nodded and gave her another hug.
She whispered in my ear

“I love you”

I replied

“I love you too”

As I let her go and began to walk away, I heard someone call my name

“Dayo”

I stopped in my tracks and turned around. It wasn’t Sandra.
She was stopped too, trying to figure out where it came from. I looked to my left and noticed a tall and slim man in a suit approaching me.
I faced him and he smiled before saying

“Hi, sorry to interrupt”

Still puzzled, I shook his outstretched hand.
He smiled again and said

“I know you have questions…”

I then spoke and said

“Please who are you?”

He ignored my question and said

“…I had to stop you because I could not allow you to get on that flight.
You deserve to be here with the people you love. This is your home”

I was even more confused, this man knew my name and seemed to know a bit about what was going on at home.
So I asked

“Please sir, who are you?”

He moved closer and now with a straight face, he replied and said

“I am the man your mother has been in a relationship with for the past 22 years”

I froze.
Sandra yelled out

“What?!”

I couldn’t believe my ears. This ride was about to get a whole lot messier. PLEASE LEAVE ME A COMMENT BELOW!

What happens next?
Come back for Part 4 next Saturday!
Please retweet and leave a comment below. Thanks for reading!

Written by @adewus4real
Please head over to http://www.adewus4real.com for more of my original short stories and series.
Please answer the poll in the tweet below… Thank you!

Come back next week for Part 4!
#BGW #SanmiSaturdays #WTHM

© 2018 #WhatTheHeckMan

 

#WhatTheHeckMan · #WordsofWednesday · African · African Fiction · Art · Bloggers · Life · Nigerian Writers · Poetry · TheRantsShow

Intent vs. Impact

Intent vs. Impact

I was sitting in a sexual harassment refresher about 5 years ago. My job at the time made it mandatory that everyone within the company took the training once a year.
It was the very first time I heard the phrase “it is not your intent, it’s your impact”.

Now, believe me, the first time I heard that I was like “that is selfish!”
If I’m not trying to hurt you and you get hurt, that’s your problem. Not mine!
But as he explained it further, I began to understand the responsibility placed on us as people and as people who have others we love.

Now the initial discussion was about sexual harassment right?
An example of how intent vs. impact works was imagine showing up to work tomorrow and you see Sally on your way in.
You tell Sally “I love your dress, it really brings out your figure”
In your mind, you have done something nice. Most of us would think like that. Start Sally’s day with a compliment right? Make her feel good a bit?
What happens when you find out that Sally took offense to that. Imagine for a second that Sally was having a crappy morning and her mother had criticized her weight earlier that day.
Your comment reawakening the crappy feeling she already had – impact.
Intent vs. Impact.

Since that day, I have always tried to apply the same logic to my friendships and romantic relationships.
I understand that it is human to offend but more importantly, how I approach something is the only thing I can account for.
How someone receives it, is their choice as well.
They are entitled to that.
And even when it annoys you and you feel like they are taking a piss, you have to still look at things from their end.

It is also important to be aware that while someone may offend you and that was their impact, it may not have been their intention.
The best way to look at this is how you want to be loved.

Anyone that knows me well enough knows that I hate talking about things I cannot change.
Things that aggravate me are words with no action and feeling powerless in a situation.
I used to date someone in a long distance situation that would say, “you never come to see me or even talk about it”
In their mind, my lack of dialogue around it has impacted them into thinking, I don’t care.
But that is not my intention. For one, like I explained earlier, I hate empty talk. I am a doer, if I want something, I wait till I can execute till I bring it up.
Until we had a conversation about it, she always thought I just didn’t care.
5years ago, I would have said she was being selfish for not understanding my intent but you have to communicate it.

It is also your responsibility when you love someone to afford them the benefit of the doubt.
One of my partners used to be horrible with the public display of affection and love.
I host a radio show and I expect that a woman that loves me, would listen and support weekly.
But she was one of those people in the background.
Listening but never using the hashtag or commenting. It bothered me for a while. But I had to understand that her intent was not to seem uninterested or absent.
Did it annoy me? Hell yes, but I had to see the big picture.

This also brings me to the concept of how you love people.
You have to understand your past successes in relationships count for nothing if the current one you are in is failing.
Nobody wants to be in a failed relationship or friendship but it takes work to make all of that tick.
I am pretty confident that nobody likes the idea of repeatedly saying, “that’s not what I meant”
That is part of where the work comes in. You have to be able to align your intentions and your impact.
That is one of the ways relationships/friendships are successful.

I have a friend that gets mad at me all the time for my response times to text messages. They assume that I must not care or that I am just absent.
Totally untrue but I understand where there are coming from.
I get busy, absent-minded, distracted or forgetful but at no point does any of that translate to not caring.
But it happens and people feel things.

If you love them, tell them.
Fight for them.
Support them.
Be available and
Try to be sensitive to their needs. Their concerns, frustrations.
Also, try to give them the benefit of the doubt. Do not start every thought with assuming that they are doing everything to hurt you.
If there is anything you need to remember today from this, make sure your intent and impact are as closely aligned as possible.

You won’t always get it right but you can try.
Now, if you don’t get me a gift for my birthday, the impact is that I will be very upset and NO, I don’t care about your bloody intent. 😂
Okay, just kidding.
Go out there this week and be great. Until next week, it has been WordsOfWednesday from the desk of The Wordsmith.

Bless.

Follow @adewus4real and please LEAVE ME A COMMENT BELOW! Thanks!

#WordsOfWednesday
#WTHM
#TheRantsShow

Black.Gay.Waiting Part 3 out on Saturday!
Please watch this space!

Thank you for reading and commenting. You are highly appreciated. 

#WordsOfWednesday
© 2018 #WhatTheHeckMan

 

#WhatTheHeckMan · #WordsofWednesday · African · Art · Bloggers · Drama · Erotica · Fiction · Life · Nigerian Writers · Poetry · TheRantsShow

Sink OR Swim

#WordsOfWednesday
Sink or Swim

Head first in the deep,
I may sink or swim
Learning how to breathe
I end as I begin
Oh, I don’t know if I can do it, do it
I’m not sure I can do it, do it
I know I wanna do it, do it
Fuck it, I’m gonna do it, do it

Cos I gotta feeling…
(Deep inside of me)
Telling me to do it…
(Deep inside of me)

Sink or Swim by Jacob Banks

The very first time I heard the song, it was at the Jacob Banks concert. I had been slacking as a fan because I had never properly listened to the song even though I had the EP on my computer.
So the night before the show, I was watching videos to a lot of the songs I had listened to and I played it.
Very easily liked it but it still did not register.

When I got to the concert and he played the song, he had changed it.
He changed the pitch, the melody was tweaked a bit and everyone was singing along except me.
And it was in that moment I realized how much I liked the song.

So I went back home and just binged on it and that was how I fell in love.
I knew standing in that crowd and mouthing off that this song was going to define my 2018; Sink or Swim.

Many of you reading this, started this writing/blogging journey with me.
In many cases, you have watched my evolution as a writer, creative, host, and most importantly, as a man.
I think with that evolution, comes a sense of ownership.
People think I should believe in myself more and it should be reflective. They are right.

I think I am a pretty decent everything listed about. But most times, people around me see more.
More than I can and more than I am sometimes willing to admit.
I think I am a pretty good writer but not great. Same goes for hosting my show or being a big brother or anything.
I mostly operate in the above average range.
That is about to change.

2018 is my sink or swim year in many senses.
One, it is the year I venture out of my comfort zones and tell the stories that I keep locked away.
It is the year where I approach discussions and creative platforms that scare, challenge and motivate me.
It is the year I tell myself “do it” and damn the consequences.
It is the year I take the love I deserve and settle for nothing less. I have written many times about the fear of being alone. Like even in the times I was single, I was never alone.
And out of the fear of not having to walk alone, I have settled for less than I deserve. No more.
It is the year of creative exploration on a more spiritual level (Check out my current series Black.Gay.Waiting here). When I wrote Black Gay Waiting, people freaked out. Some thought I was gay, some called me gay.
But it was mostly because the story was so believable but also because I wrote it, expect more.

2018 is also the year that I allow myself to be more vulnerable spiritually. I have always hidden behind the bare minimum. “Oh just enough that God knows I love Him and I do His work” but never truly pushing the envelope like I should. Change.

WhatTheHeckMan, TheRantsShow and I have all grown over the years but in a way, I feel like we stagnated last year.
The numbers say we didn’t but maybe because I am the force behind all of those things, and I’m never content with what I have, I want to push for more and more is what we are getting.
In 2018, everything should feel like a jump off a cliff.
You obviously have a parachute in your bag but no plans to use it. You’ll jump and soar.
Glide into your victories and be miles above your enemies.

Too often, we are okay with okay.
“Okay, I think if I hit this level, I’ll be okay”
“What I have done so far, is okay jare
All very fair but there is more. There will be more. And it is okay to chase it.
2018, do not be okay with being above average because if the entire world is above average, then technically, you’re average.

I remember when I moved out of my parent’s house, what is now 9 years ago.
The plan was to split my rent.
I had gotten a part-time job and for the first 6 months, my parents were going to support me.
8 days after moving out, I lost the job.
My girlfriend at the time, bless her heart was the rock that held me through as I waited four months for another job.
It would be as a lifeguard.
I didn’t even know I could swim, until one day there was an emergency in the pool and I had to dive in and save a kid.
That is how I am approaching this year.
I don’t know if I can do it,
I am not sure if I can do it,
But I know I want to do it,
So fuck it, I AM GOING TO DO IT!

My name is Sanmi Adewunmi. You may know me as Adewus4real or The Wordsmith.
I create and I do a damn good job of it.
In 2018, I am pushing myself to the limits and challenging every person that is reading this to do the same.
Here is what will happen.
Not trying to be negative but we will fail at some things – but we will gather learnings to improve new approaches and we will succeed at many things and thrive in our best lives.
None of which won’t happen if you don’t jump in the water.

Write those goals out.
If you are religious, pray about them.
Religious or not, work hard at them.
Success will come.
It has to.

Say it with me, “In 2018 and beyond, I will thrive in everything I set my heart, my mind, my body and my soul to”
In 2018, we swim!
So get in the water.
And if you think you are going to drown, don’t worry, I gotchu.
After all, I was a lifeguard for all of 5 months!

Let’s go out there and take 2018; spiritually, financially, romantically, creatively, professionally, physically and any other kind of “cally”
This is the first WordsOfWednesday for 2018 and I promise to be more consistent with these this year.
Please retweet, comment, share and let me know if you plan to Sink or Swim this year.
Come back next Wednesday for another piece and make sure you catch the next episode of @TheRantShow before that. Also find the track that inspired my approach to 2018 below~
I appreciate you all.
2018 is ours. Part 3 of Black.Gay.Waiting will be out this Saturday! I promise! ❤️

LEAVE ME A COMMENT BELOW! START THE NEW YEAR RIGHTTTTTTT! lol

Bless & Happy New Year!

#WordsOfWednesday
#WTHM
#TheRantsShow

Black.Gay.Waiting Part 3 out on Saturday!
Please watch this space!

Follow @adewus4real

Thank you for reading and commenting. You are highly appreciated. 

#WordsOfWednesday
© 2018 #WhatTheHeckMan

 

#WhatTheHeckMan · #WordsofWednesday · African · African Fiction · African Stories · Art · Bloggers · Drama · Fiction · Life · Nigerian Writers · Oakland · Poetry · Stories · TheRants · TheRantsShow

Black.Gay.Waiting 2

Black.Gay.Waiting 2

PART 2

It was 6am in the morning, I was just standing out in the middle of the quadrangle and looking embarrassed.
Wet.
I was trying to understand how I missed it.
My clothes were on the window pane to my left. I had placed them there before I began to bathe myself as I prepared for school.
Why would someone do this to me?
This was only my first morning in boarding school.

I wanted the safety of my home.
My temperature controlled shower, consistent electricity, hot breakfast and just emotional safety!
Here I was thrust into the “wild”.
Anyone that experienced it will tell you straight up that it builds character and forces you to face a lot of the fears you will meet in life.
One thing it also does though, it awakens fears you never thought you had.

That cold morning, I stood there and wished I could teleport.
I swear I had seen my clothes there. Just a minute before.
Someone obviously moved it because they wanted to teach me a lesson.
I eventually made my way into my dorm and tried to forget that had happened, but it hurt.
That day, I prayed that I would never be in that kind of situation again.

Well, I have been in that situation 3 times since then but this had to be the most embarrassing.
My father, a renowned minister, was standing less than 10 feet away from me while I clutched my undergarments to protect my exposed genitalia.
Fuck!
How did this happen?
How did he know I was here?

“Pastor, I am sorry”

Micah said in whimpering tone.

“Shut up!”

My father barked back at him.

He looked up to me and said

“You are still at this?! After everything your mother and I have done for you?”

My head dropped.
He continued on

“You are a disgrace. A complete disgrace.”

It was at that point I dropped my clothes on the bed and I started putting my boxers on.
I was so tired of being called all sorts for being who I was.
My father turned to Micah and said

“…and you, I cannot believe you would do this. I never want to see you again.
Or anywhere near the church.”

He stormed out without saying another word.
I quickly put the rest of my clothes on and followed. Micah tried to grab me, I stopped and he said

“I’m sorry. This is my fault”

I smiled and gave him a kiss on his lips and then said

“Don’t be. You did nothing wrong”

as I wiped his lip.
He dropped his head and I patted his cheek as I walked out.

Walking into the parking space, my father said to me

“Give him the keys”

referring to his driver who was now standing outside to my left, right next to my car.
I wanted to ask why but I knew why.
He wanted us to ride together so he could berate me further.
I didn’t question it, I tossed my keys to Dimeji, our longtime family driver and the man that taught me how to drive.
He nodded, almost in apology and then entered my car.
I walked over to my father’s car and entered.
To my surprise, he did not say a single word during the entire ride home.

When we got home, I went straight to my room and stayed there most of the day.
I shuffled between scrolling through Twitter and watching season 4 of the Blacklist. I was basically trying everything to get my mind off what had just happened.
My mom was out of the country and returning later that night. One thing was for sure, my father was always going to tell my mother what happened.
They tell each other everything.
So I knew it was only a matter of time before she was brought up to speed.
And she was going to be home in a few hours.

…..

I was awakened by the buzzing of my phone.
I actually didn’t realize I had fallen asleep. As I answered, I tried to keep my eyes closed.
The voice on the other end was familiar. It said

“Are you ready?”

I wasn’t understanding. So I asked

“Ready for what?”

She said

“Drinks. I texted you and told you I was coming”

I hadn’t seen the text. Probably because I was sleeping. So I asked

“Where are you?”

“10mins away”

she replied

I sighed and said

“Aight, I’ll be out in a bit”

I quickly got up, brushed my teeth and then washed my face before heading out the room.
As I approached the living room, I could hear the sounds of the television – MSNBC.
That was one of my dad’s favourite channels, so I quickly put it together that he was in there.
I knew I had to walk past him and I was going to do it as quickly as possible.
As I entered the living room and was almost out of the main door, he said

“Ni bo lo da?” – translating to “where to?”

I stopped in my tracks, turned to my right where he sat and said

“I am grabbing dinner with a friend”

He squeezed his face and dismissed me with his mouth closed.
And out I was.

In the car waiting for me was Sandra.
One of my true best friends and one of the only few that knew my situation.
As I sat in the car, she turned and gave me a hug.
She followed it up by saying

“How are you?”

In that moment, I wanted to break down and cry but I mustered the strength and said

“I think I’m okay hun.
Like… I don’t know but I’d like to think that I’m good”

We chatted about her week and her boyfriend whom she felt was dragging his feet and not proposing.
I told her to be calm, after all, only 20 months of dating was never going to be enough time to know someone.
Sandra was extra like that.

As they cleared our table, Sandra asked for the check and brought out her wallet.
I looked at her with confusion and said

“What are you doing?”

She scoffed, smiled and said

“Paying. Or what does it look like?”

I was about to reply when she said

“Abeg hold that your machismo nonsense. I got this one.”

I just swallowed my words. She then asked

“So what are you going to do?”

I looked up to her and locked my fingers into each other as I said

“I honestly don’t know but I sure as hell know that I am tired.
I mean for crying out loud, I am almost 30!
I have never had sex and I have done everything my family has asked of me…but I cannot change who I am!
This is who I fucking am. Sandra it is soo tiring.
Is it my fault that my parents are pastors? Or that I like men and not women?
Like let’s get this straight, I am almost fucking thirty! Like is it because I moved back home or something?
Like I am just tired”

She nodded as I could see the sadness all over her face.
She said

“I am sorry hun. I really am.
Let me just say this though. Just continue to be yourself. We appreciate you for who you are.
I know for sure that I do, and I love you for being you”

“Thanks love.”

I replied.
Dinner and those drinks certainly helped me feel a bit better. As I rode home in the back of the Uber, I couldn’t help but think about how much I had wanted to break free.
For many years, nobody knew of my status and I truly didn’t need people to know.
I was always sure that I never wanted people to treat me any kind of way because of my sexuality. I was going to be great at anything I did without being treated differently.
But how come my home never felt like I was welcome?
My father would preach love and togetherness, being non-judgmental, forgiveness and unconditional love.
Yet, since I became an adult, those things have been far away from me.

The Uber pulled up to the gate and said

“Okay sir, we are here”

I looked up and noticed we were in front of my house.
I grew up in that house and I had come to hate that house. Every time I brought up the idea of me moving out, my mother scoffed at it and tried to make me feel bad for not wanting to live with them.
I heaved a deep sigh as I knocked on the gate for the gateman to open.

The house was quiet when I got in but the television was on.
I turned it off and went to my room. As I began taking my clothes off, I heard the gate open.
My parents were back.
I turned the lights off and got into my bed.
I heard them make their way into the house. I could hear my mom’s voice and even though I hadn’t see her in a few weeks, I decided against coming out of my room.

I heard them talking in their bedroom which was a floor beneath mine but when the house was quiet enough, it felt like they were next door.
I heard the water running. I figured my mother was taking a shower.
Sleep came calling and soon enough I was struggling to keep my eyes open.

I hadn’t been asleep for too long when I heard my door open quickly.
By the fruity scent left behind, I figured it was mom that came to check if I was awake.
I was, but I was not ready for the things that followed.

…..

Sunday mornings were always sluggish for me.
I think as I got older, I hated the pressure that came from being a PK (Pastor’s kid). So I became more distant from the church in many ways.
I would still go but I was always late or very detached. Only at the church, my parents pastored.
This morning, I woke up and I just lay there for a while.
I kept playing that day and my dad walking in.
As I replayed the day, I kept blaming myself.
Maybe I shouldn’t have slept over or maybe I should have rushed and put my clothes on as I heard my dad barge in.
I kept going through a bunch of maybes but I eventually settled on the fact that, it already happened and there was nothing I could do to change it.

When I made it to church, praise and worship was just about to start.
For the next twenty-five minutes, we sang and danced to the glory of God.
Then came the Liberty prayer and then the announcements.
The sermon was about to start when I noticed my father hand the microphone to my mother.
He wasn’t taking the sermon today.

I figured that it was because of everything that had happened over the weekend, he wanted to absolve himself of any ill feelings while ministering.
My mother got up there like she had many times before and began preaching.
She was firm, she was direct and told it as it was.

The title of her sermon was “Finding Your Way Home”
A lot of what she said convicted me, I felt like I had drifted from God.
I used to be active in the church and closer in my journey against sexual immorality.
I had promised that I would never have sex until I was married.
And even though I had dated women and almost got married to one, I was determined to wait until after I was married to have sex.
Now some of you may say, but what is the point in going on God, when you are already gay.
I wish I knew but it felt like the right thing to do within me.
And that was what I was going to do.

Midway through her sermon, I remember my mother saying

“Some of us have been so blessed by God that we stray. We let the blessings get to us and then we forget all that he has done.
We start to simplify his goodness and take it for granted.
Brethren, I encourage you to never let the elevation you have in life, make you think you no longer need God…”

I remember thinking

“hmmm, maybe I had turned on God and forgotten how much he had blessed me…”

I was in that thought when I heard my name over the loudspeakers.
I looked up and my mother was motioning me towards the altar.
I looked around to be sure.
Slowly, I got up and walked to the front of the church.

She stepped down from the altar and came up to me.
Placing her hand on my shoulder she said into the microphone

“An example of forgetting home and God’s blessings is my son here.
God has given him so much that he has forgotten God to the point that he is now engaging in sinful acts that made God burn down Sodom and Gomorrah.
My son has been participating in a homosexual relationship”

The entire church gasped.
I swear I thought I had died for a second.
It was like I was hearing a cassette tape played backwards. Everything in my head was scrambled. I was stunned.
My eyes quickly welled up and I couldn’t understand.

“How could she do this to me?”

I thought to myself.
I turned and people in the congregation had their hands covering their mouths in shock.
Something in me wanted to run but I couldn’t.
My mom continued and said

“It is important that when people are trying to lead you back to Christ, you take note because you can be lost in the world”

As she finished, someone got up in the second row and said

“Abeg what is all this nonsense?
Is this what we came to church for?”

My mother, microphone to her lips, said

“Excuse you?”

And the man continued and said

“Yes, is this why we came to church. So you can air your personal drama?
We come for the word, not this theatrics.
Besides, this is not news at least not to your family. Your husband always knew and he has known for a while now, so why are you here lying to us.
Please let us hear word”

My mother, surprised, turned around and looked at my father.
He rose up with his head hung low.
He took two steps forward and then he slumped. My father died that morning.

What happens next?
Come back for Part 3 next Saturday!
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The End.

Part Three next Saturday and ready to drop! @adewus4real

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