Fiction

Bastards

PART 1

This series is dedicated to the lives taken from us and the entire #BlackLivesMatter Movement. You matter to me.

There was a crisp tinge to the air that summer afternoon.
The Ibadan heat felt like a stranglehold. The only breeze that day was the ceremony.
We had gotten to the priest earlier in the week to make sure things moved quickly and efficiently.
The whole week was a shit show.
Family had flown in from all over the world on a whim. But the events of that day and the following weeks would leave a lasting impression.
Money talks, but greed uses a megaphone.

It had been exactly 72 days since my father passed away in his sleep while vacationing with his friends in Kenya. He was 65 years old and for the last twenty-five or so years, our family had a routine – we travelled the world for two weeks as a family and Daddy went to link up with his boys.
Friends from their high school days at Wesley College, Ibadan, the six of them would manage to do well for themselves in varying fields – from politicians to lawyers, doctors and businessmen.
My father was a medical doctor in England for two decades before moving back to Nigeria; he would then teach at the University of Ife, go into politics and then fully into business, supplying medical equipment to the government.
A great family man but clearly a man not without his flaws and demons, as you will soon find out.

This year, we swapped the order of our vacation because one of our cousins was due to get married three weeks after this vacation to Kenya.
We decided as a family to start our vacation after Daddy got back from his boys’ trip and end it in Venice, where the wedding was going to be held.
At least that was the plan.

I was surprised when I got a call from his lawyer and confidant that he had passed. I was even more surprised at how well my older sister was giving this eulogy.

“…a dad is someone to look up to, someone to follow, someone to admire, someone to be proud of and someone to brag about, someone to hold and someone to cry with, someone to learn from and someone to respect, someone to listen to and someone to talk to, someone to try and impress – sometimes rebel against – and, someone, most of all, with whom to share everything this wonderful life has to offer.
I am so incredibly grateful and happy that I can stand here today and tell you that I have had all this and much, much more with my dad Chief Ayodele. I am blessed to have had Fehintola as my dad.
To say I loved my dad would be an understatement – and to say I’m going to miss him would be an even greater understatement.

My dad was one of a kind to me, my siblings, my mom, extended family, his friends and the entire community.
Thank you for loving us so deeply daddy – we will never forget you.”

She stepped away and came to stand next to me. She flanked me on my left while my twin younger sisters stood to my right.
My brother stood at the end of the line, next to one of the twins.
My sisters and I were close – very close actually – but my brother, well he was an acquired taste.
Smart and super funny, but dealing with demons that dwarfed even that of my dad.
It quickly put members of the family off.

As the casket was lowered, my mom, who had been crying for most of the service, began wailing even more.

“Ah Fehintola, afi gba to se mi pa. Se eleyi to se yi da?
Ah Fehintola, until you ruined me. Is what you have done fair?”

They restrained her as dirt was poured on the coffin and we began heading to the celebration of life.
It was a big party because of how popular my father was but at 65, it just felt like there was more to his life and it got cut short.

We danced in the streets as traditional drummers played our family oriki. We arrived to a packed stadium and the ceremony began. My mother would eventually join us about 30 minutes later, presumably after she got her makeup retouched.

I don’t really remember the celebration if I am being completely honest. It felt like a bunch of formalities and a lot of ass kissing from those my father gave money to and those that hoped my mother would give to them.
Different organizations with the same story of how my father blessed them with his resources and his kindness.
Blah, blah, blah.

When we got to the house later that afternoon, it was more of the same. Governors and dignitaries from Nigerian states, international guests, business partners, and so on.
A lot of hand shaking and more ass kissing. Some only came to make sure their stream of benefits continued, some came to make sure their business deals were intact. Only a handful really came out of care and concern for my family.
Around 8pm, I had shaken enough hands and I was ready to leave.
My mother was staying in the main house and all the kids had our own homes in the estate. These were gifts my father gave each of us upon graduating college.
I would alternate between my house and the family house where my parents stayed depending on the occasion or the number of people in the 9 bedroom house.
Like the Christmas Taiwo was telling my dad that she was dropping out of medical school, I stayed in my own house because I knew it was going to be a madness.
Shoes and insults were thrown that night.
There was a very different type of tension in the air tonight. I said my goodbyes and got in my car.
I FaceTimed my fiancé Ivie on my way home. She couldn’t make it to the funeral because of a missed connection at Heathrow.
In many ways, I was glad that she didn’t come, nobody needed the extra family drama.
Let’s just say getting ready to marry an Edo woman was already proving difficult with the family.
Who knew what type of wailing my mother would have put on if she saw her.


Sunday morning was low-key. We went to church and sat together like they do in my parent’s Anglican Church.
The Vicar prayed for our family towards the end of the service. More condolences, hugs, and handshakes.
Some of our family members went back to Lagos and other places.
I spent most of the day at the family house, cleaning out my father’s room and organizing his study.
My father and I shared a love for shoes. We would travel to cities and have them custom made or hit the shops to pick out pairs we wanted to use to tension people back in Nigeria.

I remember truly realizing that he was gone as I turned off his TV screen that broadcasted the global stock markets.
He watched them every morning after family prayers and as he took his tea.
The man was gone.
I cried as I drove home that evening.
If I felt like my father was gone, nothing prepared me for what Monday would bring.

When we arrived for the reading of the will, I expected it to be a formality.
Over the years, my father made it clear that things were aligned and clearly shared. The only things we were not clear on were cash and splits.
Stocks in his companies and his portfolios had been given to us and we had account managers handling those for us. Each person had their house and undeveloped land in Ibadan, Lagos and along the Lagos – Ibadan Expressway.
The properties in New York and Los Angeles were to stay with my mom.
I was already running my father’s business with my brother as co-executives. My older sister lived in San Diego and was a software engineer and had her own family.
Taiwo worked in media for a top soccer team in England and Kehinde was a practicing lawyer in Washington DC.
Basically, we were good.
We grew up rich and comfortable thanks to our parents so we did not expect any issues with sharing things

The will reading had the following parties:

My mother
My siblings and I
Three lawyers
Two representatives for the company’s board of directors
And my older sister’s husband

The lead lawyer opened a sealed envelope and began reading the will.
Money was split, the home went to my mom along with most of the physical properties around the world.
Nobody really cared for the things like the cars and his boat in Lagos.
I got a 40% stake in the company while my brother got 15%; all my sisters got 5% each, bringing the total family ownership to 70%. My sisters also got a higher split on the cash in hand which ran deep into the millions of dollars.
I actually appreciated his rationale around this company ownership. I had worked for him since I was in college and my brother joined the company about 6 years later. So at his time of death, I had invested 10 years of my life into the company.
The bombshell was not even that all of what was split would not go into effect or get to us for 6 months.

As the lawyer wrapped up, he picked up his suitcase and pulled out another sealed envelope.
The moment he pulled it out,
my mother became very uneasy.
He held it in his hands while he said

“Chief Ayodele wanted this to be read after all the assets have been distributed.”

I sat up straight and anticipated the news. He pulled out a paper and began reading,

“I, Fehintola Ayodele, swear that this document is being drafted while I am able bodied and of sound mind. No part of this document is drafted under duress.
Over my life, I have had the privilege of doing some amazing things and building greatness. Without a shadow of doubt, my greatest achievement in my life is being your father.
If this is being read to you then it means that life got to me before I got the chance to tell you this by myself.
It has eaten at me for years and while I know you may be disappointed, I hope that you eventually understand that I did it for your own good.

So here it goes, I am not your biological father. None of you are biologically mine.
A few months after your mother and I got married, I had a terrible accident that completely ruptured my testicles. After many rounds of corrective surgery, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. It ballooned fast and may have been what took me away from you.
Your mother and I had an agreement, we chose someone to reproduce with and I would take full ownership as your father.
I have loved you all as my own and I truly hope that it came out in every interaction we had. You bear my name, you are filled with my love and you are the best gift that God ever gave to me.
I know you will have questions, I expect tons of them especially from those last two. Your mom is the strongest and most loving woman I know. Please give her time and she will answer all your questions as we discussed.
I love you all always.
This family has made my life worth living”

The whole room was stunned to silence.
Dead silence.

My mother was sobbing but ever so quietly.
There weren’t many other reactions beyond shock. Disbelief maybe, but mostly shock.
“What The Heck Man” was all I could think of.

————————
Are you enjoying this series so far? You pictured the funeral, imagined the home? If you are liking what you are reading, welcome to the WhatTheHeckMan family.
In case you missed my most recent series “Scar Tissue”, please read them at the links below.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.
Don’t forget to leave me a comment at the end and answer the poll + please re-share this to your social media platforms. Let’s continue growing the family! Thank you!

Sanmi
————————

I was sitting in my car in the driveway.
My legs had no power to walk. I am not even sure how I drove home with tears in my eyes.
Everything in my life felt rocked. Everything felt like a lie.

My head was resting on the steering wheel when I heard a knock on the window.
I turned to my left and it was my childhood friend Adesuwa.
She was the daughter of one of my father’s closest friends and former business partner.

I wound down the window and said,

“Suwa, what are you doing here?”

She smiled and replied,

“I came to check on you. I just heard what happened. Was on my way back to Lagos and I had to stop by and check on you. Are you okay?”

I wasn’t even sure if I was okay.
I nodded.
She said,

“Are you sure?”

“I mean, I guess. I just have so many questions and I am not even sure where to begin getting answers or if I really want those answers.”

She nodded and said,

“I can only imagine”

“Yeah.”

I replied.
She then said,

“Come inside, let me make you something to eat and we can talk and take your mind off this.”

We headed inside and I was sitting on the couch while she was in the kitchen.
I actually dozed off while she was in the kitchen.
There wasn’t much talking that actually happened.
When she came out, she had made some rice and stew with plantains. We sat and ate together.

As we ate and watched TV, she went to the wine cabinet and picked out a Red that we opened.
About 35 minutes after we were done eating, I opened another bottle.
Adesuwa and I were always close.
We actually lost our virginity to each other way back in SS2, way before our parents knew anything of us.
Then we dated briefly when I first returned to Nigerian from getting my Masters in Chicago.
We stopped being as close when I started dating Ivie.
Just to avoid drama and issues.
But that night, something in me wanted to be reckless. It wasn’t the alcohol, that’s cowardly.
It was me.

As we started talking, I said to her,

“Come here.”

She smiled sheepishly and said,

“Where?”

I tapped my lap and motioned to her.
She came over, placed her glass on the coffee table and turned to me with a smile on her face.
I immediately kissed her.
Passionately.
Kissing my way down her body, I laid her on the couch as I slid up her dress.
Finding my way to her pink, her wet immediately covered my lips.
She let out a gasp of relief.
It was like our lips were meeting for the first time.
They tasted like a homemade white chocolate candy. Super sweet.
I delved deeper.
My tongue parted ways as I searched her inner walls.
As she dripped down my lips and on to my beard, my tongue flipped into overdrive as I tried to get it all.
Nothing was to be wasted.
As I slurped and my tongue went from left to right at uncontrollable speed, she clutched the pillows.
She placed her legs on my shoulders and gripped them around my neck, it only sent me further into pleasure.
I dug deeper.
Licking faster; nibbling on her clit.
Then she went silent as I vibrated on her clit; I knew what was coming.
So, faster my tongue went.
And then faster, covering every inch of her pulsing pink.
I was working like I was auditioning for a position.
I missed her. I missed sex. It was completely non existent in my relationship.
She squeezed her legs tighter around my neck and let out her squeal!
Her sharp moan kissed my ears like a nip on your bottom lip.
She came.
I rose to take off my pants and released my throbbing member.

As we walked into the room, she asked me to lay down.
Flat on my back I lay, as she climbed on top of me.
The heat and warmth was insane. Her wet dripped down my throbbing shaft.
She placed both hands on my nipples and stroked them as she rolled her hips on me.
No words, just eye contact.
She was driving me insane. I closed my eyes and I knew.

I quickly turned her over.
Her face went straight into the bed and her ass perfectly served up to me.
I slid in behind her and thrust in slowly.
Quickly, the pace picked up. Her cheeks bounced as I slid in and out of her.
I could feel the base of my balls slamming into her wet clit and splattering all over me.
She reached under and tickled my balls as I thrust into her.
I grabbed a handful of her braids as I exploded and pumped her full.

We slumped next to each other stark naked with most of her clothes downstairs and mine too.
After a few minutes, she got up and went to get her clothes. As she walked out of the room, she said,

“Can I get a shirt to sleep in please?”

I ruffled through the closet and found one.
Tossing it on the bed, I headed into the bathroom to wash up.
About 5 minutes later, I returned while she was putting on the shirt and tucking her things into the corner of the room.
As she hopped into the bed with me, she said,

“So Plan B tomorrow?”

I smiled and said,

“You know the drill.”

She replied,

“Jk, I’m on birth control”

I laughed and replied,

“Even better.”

I think we chatted for a few more minutes but I remember the very last thing was that she leaned over and kissed me on my forehead.

It must have been 4am in the morning when I heard my name out of my sleep.

“Tomiwa, wake the fuck up.”

As I opened my eyes, I noticed Adesuwa was pointing a gun at me.
Not sure what was going on, I put my hands up and asked,

“Adesuwa, what is going on?”

She said,

“Please don’t talk. Just don’t say anything.”

Still confused and half naked, I asked again,

“Suwa, did I do something? IS this a joke?
What is going on?”

She said

“I am sorry.”

“Sorry about what?”

I chimed back.
She said,

“Close your eyes.”

I was taking too long. So she yelled again,

“Close your eyes Tomiwa!”

I closed my eyes and that was when it happened.
I heard the shots.

Bang bang!
My body went limp.

End of Part 1. Please like this story, leave a comment below, and share social media!
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© 2020 #WhatTheHeckMan

Fiction

Scar Tissue 3

PART 3.

Leila and Denzel explore truths and depths, who knows what they might find…


TRAINWRECK.

The nurse read the awkwardness in the room. She slowly left the room and shut the door behind her.
I could see through the blinds that the nurses in the hallway were eavesdropping. I’ve had pretty decent relationships with my care team during my time here; but at that moment, I wished they were all gone.

I slowly began to sit up and I looked at Denzel. He looked uneasy, sad.

“What do you mean that you don’t want to have kids Denzel?”

I asked first.
It was as if my question brought relief to him and then anger, he quickly replied and said,

“That’s what you’re more concerned about?”

It took me aback for a second. I repositioned and said,

“Well, no. But I guess it was so unexpected that I wondered how to even proceed. Sorry if that seemed insensitive. I just wondered if that’s something I should have known”

He seemed even more annoyed as he said,

“Leila, we have known each other for less than two months. The current state you are in spiraled from literally our first date. I am not sure when you expected me to slide in the fact that I don’t see children in my near future”

It was a sound point. Heck, I was the one who chose to nearly die on the night of probably my best date in half a decade.
I desperately wanted to understand him but also not be insensitive or rude. I was processing his words as he came up to me, pulled his chair close and sat down.
He took my left hand and said,

“Look Leila, I really like you. I understand feeling blindsided by this, but think about it; we are sitting here under circumstances that neither of us expected to be in.
I am more than willing to talk through anything. I am a pretty open book.”

“Why don’t you want to have kids?”

I asked immediately.
He smiled and then got serious again,

“For years, I stumbled through school tagged as the kid with behavioral problems. My family members said I had an evil spirit inside of me. I saw priests, imams, and even an online voodoo doctor.
It wasn’t until I wanted to join the army out of high school that I got a psych eval and found out that I had a bipolar disorder.
For a long time I hated myself, and I truly do not want to pass that on to my kids – genetics and such. The world is cruel and I guess the best chance I can give them is to not have them experience it at all.”

I froze.
His eyes were watery. He was holding back the tears.
I got it. It made sense.
So why did I still want to say more? Ask more?
I wouldn’t need to, as he spoke again,

“I always considered adopting but I just felt that most women would want their own.
However, I decided that in the meantime, I would try to make sure the lives around me felt love and support. That is why I convinced my firm to partner with me and give hope to veterans and other people dealing with mental health issues.”

“So, you would like to adopt?”

I asked.
He nodded and said,

“With the right woman.
Yes”

I squeezed his hand tighter and said,

“Kiss me”

He stood up and planted the longest kiss we had ever shared on my lips.
A tear streamed down the right side of his face. I wiped it off and said,

“You chose to be here for me when you didn’t have to. I gotchu.”

———————————

Two days later, I was getting discharged.
My father came with Denzel to take me home.
Denzel drove and my dad was in the passenger seat. As we headed to my apartment, I couldn’t help but be thankful for life and the opportunity to live.
The surgery being abandoned still weighed on me. I kept feeling like there was a plot twist and something else would go wrong.
I guess that’s what happens when you reach the brink of life and get pulled back in.

When we got to my apartment, the place was clean.
Spotless.
It smelled so nice. Remember that I hadn’t seen the insides of my place since I stepped out for that date.
It was beautiful.
I was in love with the place. There was a bouquet of flowers on the kitchen island from my father’s wife with a “Get Well” card signed by Denzel and most of my friends.
My heart was so warm.

The first thing I did when I walked in was walk to the window. I looked outside, and there was a line outside the Denny’s.
Sunday brunch time.
Somehow, that sight truly warmed my heart.
I loved the way people just kept living their lives.
In a very weird way, it made me realize that I needed to keep living mine.
If I had died, beyond my clients and family, the world would have kept on moving for everybody.

Walking back towards the kitchen, Denzel had already put some food on fire.
Rice and stew with goat meat. My mouth was watering. I came up behind him and brushed his shoulder.
He laughed, and continued cheffing it up.
My dad had poured himself a glass of wine from my rack and was watching the Utah Jazz vs. Miami Heat game.
I opened up my fridge and it was perfectly arranged with water, gatorade and food. Lots of it.
I turned to Denzel and said,

“Did you cook all this?”

He turned and said with a smile,

“Most of it. Your dad got the water”

We both laughed and I just felt so grateful.
I walked into my room, closed the door behind me, and did a happy dance.
I knew he was a great man but seeing him in my home – felt A M A Z I N G!
The man just had a way!
It was a beautiful way and how naturally my dad took to him was a huge selling point.
And let’s not forget his cooking skills.
That alone had me considering feeding him. If you know what I mean!

I changed and took a shower.
The shower was everything. It felt so good to be home.
My water, perfect temperature, my own soap, and just my own everything. I hopped out of the shower and changed into an oversized shirt that my dad had given me and some comfortable silk shorts.
I wanted to show off my legs but I realized that I hadn’t shaved in a bit.
Too lazy to run back, I braved the living room.
I could hear my dad and Denzel going at it.
They were arguing and laughing about the game.
The previous game had ended. The 76ers and Bucks were playing now.
Denzel looked at me and asked,

“Would you like me to dish your food now?”

I nodded and said,

“Yes, please.”

He got up and kept talking to my dad,

“Mark my words, Giannis is going to be a multiple season MVP winner – before Embid wins anything. He has no heart”

My dad wanted to clap back but he got distracted by my shirt.
He said,

“You still have this???
How many years has it been?”

I laughed shyly and said,

“7 years.”

He scoffed and said,

“Well, you know I always told you my style was timeless.”

We both laughed as I sat on the couch. He was sitting on the single recliner to my right and backing the window.
Denzel brought our plates to us with drinks and water.
Rice, goat meat stew and plantains. After weeks of hospital food, this felt like heaven.
Denzel sat next to me while we ate and watched the game.
I don’t remember falling asleep, but all I heard was my dad laughing and teasing Denzel.
The 76ers won.

Giannis had a great game but it appeared my dad was vindicated.
He got up and took all our plates to the kitchen.
He placed them in the sink and began putting on his coat. Denzel said,

“Sir, you’re leaving? I can drop you off.”

My dad said,

“No, don’t worry about it. I’ll Uber.
Let me leave you two; keep her company while she rests. It’s good for her.”

He reluctantly agreed. My dad came over to the couch, kissed my forehead and shook Denzel’s hand.
The door shut behind him a few moments later.

I looked over to him and said,

“Thank you for today and thank you for everything – this was really nice, and the food was so good!
You need to give me all your recipes.”

He laughed and said,

“Nope! I need to have something that makes you keep coming back to me.”

Laughing I said,

“Oh wow, so you are trying to trap me with food?”

“Is it working?”

He asked.
I smiled and replied,

“Let’s just say you keep going like this and I’m the one that will be proposing to you.”

We both laughed.
I was laying next to him on the other side of the couch.
He picked my feet up and began to massage them.
Gently caressing and loving on them, I was drifting away.
He did that for a little while before he stopped.
He poured himself some more wine and we picked a movie – The Highwaymen on Netflix.

I got up and snuggled on him.
My head was on his lap as we watched the movie. He stroked my hair and minutes later, I was sleeping again.
Frankly, I think it was the medication I was on.
There was a shooting scene in the movie that woke me up. I looked up at Denzel.
He was wide awake and thoroughly enjoying the movie.
He looked down at me and said,

“What?”

I replied,

“Nothing.”

He reached for the remote control, paused the movie and said,

“Can I ask you something?”

I wasn’t sure where this was going but I said,

“Yes, of course.”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

The words sounded like they came from a megaphone.
I don’t think I have heard anything louder. Not even Jesus.
I sat up straight and looked at him.

“Are you serious?”

I asked.
He smiled and replied,

“Yes.”

I was blushing but I forced the words out and said,

“I would love to.”

He smiled and said,

“Whew! I’m glad you said yes ‘cos I wasn’t sure how I would follow up if you didn’t.”

We both laughed and I said,

“Technically, you knew I was going to say yes.
I mean you fried me plantain and gave me a foot massage. I stand by the fact that you set me up.”

He unpaused the movie and it continued playing.
I didn’t lay back down. I just stared at him.
The room was dark but also perfectly lit with the Denny’s sign across the street and the television.
I did not wait for him to turn.
I grabbed his face and kissed him hard.
I hadn’t felt butterflies like these in forever.
My soul cherished it, my heart liked it, my pussy loved it.

As we broke away, he looked at me.
He was searching for confirmation but I could sense his hesitation.
I pulled him and said,

“It’s okay.”

He leaned in and kissed me.
And then kissed me again. Our lips locked as our tongues communicated what our hearts felt.
The he abruptly stopped and said,

“Wait, are you sure about this? You are still healing.”

I said to him,

“I feel fine.
Just be gentle.”

Minutes later, my shorts were on the floor and I was trying to take his off.
He helped me pull them down and I leaned back onto the couch.
He kissed on me a bit more but my body yearned for him to fill me up.
I could feel my wet dripping down my thigh and towards my ass, and then he slid in.
I gasped.
My eyes closed as I felt every vein on his hard member as he filled my walls.
His thrusts were shallow but intentional. I knew what he was doing and I loved how gentle he was being.

Our eyes opened and he looked me dead in mine.
In and out, slow and controlled without missing a beat.
We were like dance partners at the Rodeo. It was as if our bodies had done this before.
There wasn’t much noise.
It wasn’t like a porn clip on Twitter. Nothing dramatic.
Just simple, sensual and sexy love making.
I think I orgasmed on the feels alone that night. He pulled out and spurted his seed on my inner right thigh.
We both giggled as he wiped me clean with the paper towel I didn’t use from dinner.
He slumped next to me and we slept.
I would get up later in the middle of the night to pee and that was when I put my shorts back on and pulled him to the bedroom.
He held onto me like a prize.
But I was the one who felt like the winner.

——————————————

PSA:
THANK YOU for your comments, engagement and support so far. If you enjoy my writing, please share it with your friends and family. Let’s grow the WhatTheHeckMan family together!
Post it on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook and tag @adewus4real & @sanmisaturdays. I appreciate YOU!

Love,

Sanmi

…now back to this masterpiece. Please comment when done and VOTE!

——————————————

I woke up early.
A little before my beside alarm that never failed to go off at the unforgiving 6:30am.
As we lay there with his hands across my chest as he quietly snored, my heart was racing.
I woke up that morning with an incredible conviction – tell him.

I knew exactly why. I may never had gotten to that point in the natural progression of things but frankly, there we were.
As he woke up some twelve to fifteen minutes later, he said,

“Good morning beautiful.”

With my head turned away from his face, I smiled and said,

“Good morning handsome.”

He was not getting a whiff of this morning breath so early in our relationship.
Relationship.
There it was. Eating at me.
I had always been the blunt type and with my performance at the hospital, it was only right.
I said,

“Denzel, I have something to tell you.”

He immediately moved back and sat straight.
Before I could speak, he said,

“If it was because of last night, I am sorry. I wanted to take it slow, I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

I smiled and said,

“Sshhhh. No Denzel, yesterday was perfect. You are perfect. This feels perfect and that’s why I have to tell you this.”

There was a pensive look across his face as I said,

“You trusted me with so much over the last few days, and your dedication to standing by me, a woman you hardly knew is a true reflection of the man you are. So, I have something to tell you.”

I paused and then said,

“A few years back, about 4 years ago to be exact, I had an abortion.”

His eyes grew big – he jumped in his skin.
I continued,

“I was dating a man, an older man. He lived in Houston. We were together for over a year and he promised to marry me.
I got pregnant and told him; he asked me to keep it and he was hoping we would have a boy.
A few weeks after I found out I was pregnant, I was contacted by a woman who said she was his wife of 3years.
She told me he had a habit of leading women on and since they have three girls already, he was basically out searching for a boy.
I couldn’t believe it and I was so heartbroken, so I told my dad and we decided not to keep the pregnancy.
I was not going to raise a child by myself, yet alone a child born out of lies and deceit.
I know it is a lot but I felt you should know.”

He froze.
Minutes that felt like forever passed, and then he said,

“I am going to leave if that’s okay.”

I replied,

“What?
You’re leaving? Just like that?”

He said,

“Just like that? Did you hear all you dumped on me?
It’s a lot. I need to process things.”

“Dumped on you?”

I snarled back, then said,

“I just felt you should know”

He replied,

“…and I appreciate that but it’s just a lot. A lot has happened so fast.
I need to think and breathe.”

It was as if my insecurities kicked in as the next set of words left my mouth; I would regret and still regret till this day.

“So you’re just going to leave?
Is that what you do when you have problems? You run???”

I could tell he felt disrespected. I could see the anger in his eyes.
He said,

“RUN?
I have stayed with you through so much, what many would have run from.
Literally most people would have just dropped you at the ER and dipped.
How dare you say that to me?
Man, fuck this.”

“Denzel, why are you yelling at me?”

I chimed back.
He snarled back,

“Because I am upset. Okay?!
I am allowed to be fucking upset! What the fuck?”

And then I said it, I don’t know why but I did,

“You sound really angry. Maybe you should take some time, take your meds and think.”

He stopped.
Flat.
His face dropped.
All the rage disappeared and seemed to be replaced with regret.
He didn’t say a single word.
He turned and headed out of the room and I heard the front door slam.
Just like that, he was gone.

———————————————

I cried so much for weeks.
Every single time I remembered him. I would feel a sinking pain in my belly.
I fucked up.

I left so many voicemails, called so many times.
I had never been to his place, so I couldn’t show up even though I wanted to. So badly.

Three weeks went by, not a single word.
It was Saturday morning and I was in my living room. The first time since the night before I saw him last.
I was playing Snoh Alegra’s album and working out on my yoga mat with the windows open when I heard a knock.
I wasn’t sure I heard it right at first, so I turned off the music and walked to the door.
Looking through the peephole, I couldn’t see anyone.
I twisted open the door lock and swung the door open.

At the foot of the door was a bouquet of flowers.
I bent down and picked up the flowers with the base. I looked down the hallways to see if anyone was there.
No one, so I turned back in and placed them on the kitchen counter.
I searched inside for a note. It was tucked in the corner.
I pulled it out and opened it up. It said,

“I hope you are feeling better. Thinking of you.”

No name.
No signature.
A part of me thought it was Denzel.
I really wanted it to be Denzel. I walked over to the coffee table and picked up my phone.
I went to his name and began the call.

It didn’t even ring.
It went straight to voicemail. I was blocked.
Fuck.
WhatTheHeckMan!

~We almost made it to 20 comments last week, let’s see if we can do that this week and drop Part 4 early!~

End of Part 3. Please leave a comment below or on social media!

 

Follow @adewus4real on Twitter and Instagram!

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

#SanmiSaturdays

#WhatTheHeckMan · African Fiction · African Stories · Fiction · Stories · TheRantsShow

Scar Tissue 2

Sometimes, earthquakes realign things.

PART 2

I remember when I was eight years old; my friend Ezi and I found a puppy on our way back from school.
We picked him up and spent the remainder of our walk home trying to decide if we should keep him or not.
Ezi and I lived in the same cul-de-sac, so as we stood between our homes, she tried to convince me to let her take him home.
I was in love with him already. I even came up with the name we gave him – Rex.
Ezi’s family is super religious and at the time, her Gambian mom would have seen a stray pup as an evil spirit being brought into the house.
I finally convinced her to let me keep him and we would alternate every two days.
She came over with me as we converted the old empty microwave box in my garage into a dog bed. Our grand plan was to keep Rex in my room during the day and then move him to the garage at night.

Things worked well for Thursday and Friday but on Saturday when I followed my mother to the women’s fellowship at church, I couldn’t wait to get home.
I was incredibly annoyed by the fact that she wouldn’t just leave and take me home. I know many of you can relate to our parents lingering back in church for hours.
Rex needed to eat!

By the time we got home, my father was in the living room watching TV and drinking a beer.
My older brothers had not returned from their soccer games with my uncle who coached them.
As the door opened, I thought I was going to die. Right next to my dad was Rex’s cage.
I almost choked.
My dad barely even looked up as he greeted my mom. His eyes never left the game he was watching.
I wasn’t sure what to do or say about the obvious dog sitting next to my dad. I was trying to figure out what to say but before I could jump in, my mom jumped in and said

“Where did you get a dog?”

My dad glanced down at Rex who was cutely trying to get out of the box. Without even looking at my mom, he said

“I got it from a coworker moving out of town.”

“Oh, who is moving? Jim or Dorian?”

My mom followed up.
He didn’t even flinch. He said

“Not them. You don’t know Chris.”

It almost seemed as if my mom did not want to get into it with my dad.
Most of his projects ended up with her cleaning up after him or him abandoning it halfway.
I am confident that she believed he would get rid of Rex within weeks. My brothers would also fall in love with Rex instantly once they got back home.
That afternoon though, as my mother left the room, my father turned to me sitting on the couch nervously next to him, looked me dead in the eye and said

“Never hide anything from me ever again.”

I nodded as he let me play with Rex. He must have gone into my room and noticed Rex or maybe he had heard him moan.
It was the first time I ever saw my dad lie. That incident made us so close, he became my best friend and my hero.
A lie brought us close and allowed me to always live my truth with him.
Years later, I would see him lie for the second time in my life – the day they told us about my mom’s lung cancer.

Rex would be in our family for 11 years till he and my mother would pass away within a month of each other. I used to always think that Rex kept her alive.
One month after she passed, he left us too.
I remember the day being cold, really cold.
Somewhat like today.

My surgery was a few hours away and I was nervous. The only time I cried as much as I had in the last two days was that month I just described. Between Rex and my mom, I couldn’t breathe.
In many ways, I felt like both deaths were telegraphed. I knew they would happen but I did not plan for the pain I would feel after.
My dad initially hid my mom’s diagnosis from us until he couldn’t anymore and frankly, it was easier for him because they had been divorced for a bit.
Well, and my mom had been cheating on him.
It was as if she knew her time was up, so she decided to go back to her high-school/college sweetheart. They would live out the rest of her time together.
I cried more when she moved out of the house than when she died. And when Rex was put down, I lost it.

The surgery weighed heavy on me.
I was scared. All I could think of was my mother for some weird reason.
I felt like it was a curse. How medical conditions would come in and snatch happiness, hope and potential away from unassuming people.
I couldn’t stop crying.
Denzel was right there with me.
When I would stop crying and knock out, I would hear him whip out his laptop and try to catch up on work.
The man was trying.

I was two hours away from surgery when my father walked into my hotel room with his new wife.
Okay newish wife.
He tried to marry this Ghanaian lady a few years after my mom passed and that was a bust.
After my siblings and I moved out, he just stuck to teaching around the world and frankly, racking up international partners.
A few years ago, he decided to settle down with Estelle and she is an angel.
She rushed to my side and gave me a big hug, tears welled up in her eyes.

“Baby geh, are you okay?”

she said. You gotta say it in a Liberian accent to get the full effect.
I chuckled a bit as my face lit up.
Before I could respond, my dad and best friend spoke

“We got the first available flight down.”

I smiled like a kid and said

“Where are you coming from now?”

He fixed his coat as he came to give me a kiss on my forehead and said

“Kuwait… I’ve been co-directing a US exchange program there.”

I was so proud.
He channeled everything into work after mom and he really took his career to the next level.
He continued and said

“So, who can fill me in here, what’s the status and who is this gentleman?”

as he made his way towards Denzel, hand outstretched.

Denzel responded and said

“Hello sir, I’m Denzel, a friend of Leila”

My dad firmly shook his hand and looked over to me.
It was as if his eyes said

“Is this him?”

A few seconds later, my dad said

“This him?”

I nodded. Denzel kept smiling, clearly embarrassed but confused about what was happening.
My dad added

“I’ve heard a lot about you Denzel. Don’t worry, just enough, not too much.”

Everyone laughed.
With Denzel’s help, we quickly brought my father up to speed.
We were only a few minutes away when he asked if he could have the room.
Everyone left us.
He pulled out the chair close to me, sat down and held my hand to pray with me.
Once he finished praying, he just looked me dead in the eye and said

“I’ll be right here when you get out and we’ll figure this out together.”

———————————————————————

There are moments that define you and moments you choose to define.
They are not the same but operate with the general concept.
You deciding what you are willing to take and what you let take you.
I don’t really know what I expected to be the case post surgery but I just prayed that I woke up.

As I woke up, my mouth tasted bitter and it felt stiff. I wasn’t really plugged in.
I sort of opened my eyes and tried to find my bearings. Stumbling into consciousness, I felt a warm hand envelope my left hand.
Denzel.
He smiled at me and said

“Hey beautiful, welcome back.”

I rolled my eyes as I swallowed hard and replied

“I am pretty sure there is nothing beautiful about how I look right now”

He kept smiling and said

“You are always beautiful to me”

“Aren’t you so sweet?”

I gently replied.

I followed up by asking

“How long have I been out for?”

He paused as if he didn’t want to answer and then he said

“A week.”

“A week???”

I replied in shock. He nodded and said

“Yes, they had to keep you in an induced coma to make sure your body healed properly from the surgery”

I was still in shock and he said

“But you have been recovering really well though. They said your body is reacting very well to treatment and the meds.”

He continued…

“Your dad and Estelle just left about an hour ago to visit a friend.
I think someone just had a baby or something”

My mind flashed to my cousin Leah, we were born a few weeks apart. She was having her first child.
I was so caught up in everything happening that I completely forgot about it.
I asked

“Did they tell you what she had?”

“A boy”

He replied

“Finally”

I said as I smiled.

“We’ve been on a girl streak in our family for a long time. I hoped that I would break….”

I could not finish the sentence as I almost broke down.
It felt unfair to get stuck on the negatives when I was just glad that I made it out alive.

Denzel picked up on it and quickly jumped saying

“Soooooo now that you are awake? What do you want to eat?”

I held back the tears and I said

“Is it weird that I want okra with goat meat?”

He smiled and said

“Okay I gotchu. I’m gonna make you some.”

I fixed my head to the right and said

“Hold up, you can cook COOK?”

He nodded and said

“Uhhhh yeah. You thought I was joking when I told you I could cook?”

I smiled and said

“Wait a minuteeee. I didn’t think you were lying. I just thought you meant you could cook basic shit like noodles and the occasional pasta. Since we know how much you Nigerian men love adding that to your Chef kit.”

He burst out laughing and said

“Nah booboo. I cook cook and I do it well. I just don’t do it enough because I travel so much.
So I never want things to go bad.”

I was actually impressed because he clearly looked like he was telling the truth
He got up and said

“I’m gonna head back to mines and be back soon. Luckily okra doesn’t take too long to make. I’ll make it, shower and be back before you know it.”

I quickly chimed in and said

“What’s gonna be in it? Cos I love my goat meat”

He smiled and said

“Don’t worry bout it sweetheart. Don’t worry bout it. That’s that spla, that’s that spla right there.”

He kissed my forehead and grabbed his things and walked out.
I took a deep sigh.
All the emotions were about to hit me. I was out of surgery, alive and somehow I had managed to keep this awesome man around. What in the world!
As I was sorting through the emotions, the door opened and my nurse walked in.
She checked my vitals, asked how much pain I was in and how I was feeling overall.
I asked her about the details of my surgery and she said

“Overall things went well. The doctor is going to be coming around a little later though to go over all the details with you.
In the meantime, do you need anything else?”

I shook my head and she began to leave. She got to the door, stopped, turned around and said

“It’s not really my business but I think you should know that man has not left your side since the first night you got here. He has slept in that chair every night.
He’s a keeper.”

I couldn’t believe it.
I started to cry.
She walked over to me and said

“Oh no baby, don’t cry. What’s wrong? Its a good thing.”

Amidst the sniffling and sobbing, I stopped and said

“It’s not that. It just sucks to know that I finally found a good man and I’m basically about to die and he has to see me like this.”

She leaned in and gave me a hug.
As she pulled away she said

“I hear you sweetie but look at the bright side. He’s still here.
He is not obligated to and he could have run but he’s here. Focus on that.”

She was right. But all my mind could think of was, how much longer till he wouldn’t show up anymore.

————————————————
Enjoying Part 2? Great! Please leave a comment when you are done. It keeps me going. Thanks!
————————————————

“You made this?”

He nodded

“Denzel, you actually made this???”

He nodded again and said

“I told you to stop doubting meeeee”

I was shocked. Y’all won’t believe me when I say this but it was fire.
Like even better than mine.

He cooked it perfectly. The seasoning, the sliminess and the meat was soooo tender.
I was truly impressed.
He admitted buying the poundo yam from the Nigerian restaurant downtown, I wasn’t mad at it.
I had just washed my hand off when the doctor walked into the room.

Frankly, I appreciated the fact that he wasn’t trying to make small talk because I did not even want it.
He asked how I was and if the nurses had come to check on me which I told him they had.

Denzel went to sit down as the doctor began talking.
He said

“So Leila as the surgery progressed, we noticed that it would have been more damaging to make the cut that we had initially discussed. So based on the recommendation of the chief of surgery, we aborted the surgery and took some tissue graft and sewed your uterus. There is no guarantee how durable it will be in the long run but I wanted to let you know that with the right diet and medication, you should be fine.”

Have you ever really had a moment where your head was spinning and all you could hear was a ringing sound?
Like the sound was distant but also right there?
That was where I went. I left the room.
It wasn’t until I heard.

“Leila, Leila, can you hear me?”

I slowly came back into reality. My first words were

“So does that mean I can have children?”

The doctor straightened himself, glad he finally got through to me and said

“The possibility is there; although, I would advise against it because it could potentially be dangerous for you and or the child. Let’s start with getting you back to full health and then the journey of the rest of your life will continue.”

The doctor excused himself.
Denzel just sat down. I think he was trying to give me space.
He asked from his seat

“Are you okay?”

I quietly mumbled

“Uhm”

He said

“Don’t worry we’ll figure this out.”

I am not sure why but I snapped

“Figure this out? I am 28 years old.
Single. Unmarried and now I may not be able to have children and everyone keeps telling me it will be okay?
How is it going to be okay Denzel?
How?!
I want to have a family. A home.
With kids running all around it.”

My voice peaked higher as I yelled to hold back the tears

“I want to be a better mother than my mom was!
I want my own kids. I want mine!
Don’t you want kids?”

At the exact moment he stood up to answer, the door opened, it was one of the nurses coming to check on what was going on.
Denzel stood up and from his coat, a pill bottle fell and perfectly rolled towards the door.
The nurse noticed it and stopped it with her foot while bending down to pick it up.
Denzel’s words sailed into the room. He said

“No Leila. No I don’t want to have kids.”

I froze.
My eyes turned to Denzel. Denzel was looking at the nurse.
The nurse held up the pill bottle and read it.
Then said out loud

“Are you giving these to her?”

Denzel shook his head. Walked up to her with his hand outstretched to collect his pills.
I asked

“What pills are those Denzel?”

He turned around and said

“Don’t worry about them. You don’t need the stress.”

I persisted as the nurse stood glued in place.

“Tell me Denzel”

He looked at me with sadness in his eyes and said

“I struggle with bipolar disorder and anxiety. These are my pills that I take everyday.”

The nurse’s face said it all.
What The Heck Man!

~We didn’t quite get 20 comments last week, let’s see if we can do that this week and drop Part 3 early!~

End of Part 2. Please leave a comment below or on social media!

 

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

#SanmiSaturdays

#WordsofWednesday · Art · Fiction · Poetry · TheRantsShow

Content

“Contentment”

Growing up, my mother always made a point to teach us about contentment.
We were raised to appreciate what we had – however little it was.

It became a guiding principle.
When I graduated college and went into nonprofit work, some of my friends with engineering degrees went into $60,000+ jobs while I made a measly $28,000 per year.
I never saw them as better or myself as less than.
I have always been financially sound and economical. We took the same vacations and ate at the same places. I was able to contribute always.
I was always content with what I had.

This piece has been on my mind for a few weeks now because I have been thinking about contentment from a place of having more than enough.
Over the last few years, there has been very little in my life that I have not been able to have.
One area of my life that has been easier than others is attraction from women.
Sometimes without even trying, I get people that express themselves or want to be with me.
It is scary and unnerving.

I can look at a person in my life and say “if I really wanted them, I could have them”
It’s been that “easy”.
But how does one stay content in abundance?
Those weren’t lessons that we were taught as kids or even young adults.
So I’ve been having that dialogue with myself internally about what maturity looks like.
It’s not always being able to be okay with not having, it’s being okay with having enough.

What is enough you ask?
We chase after money, status, growth, promotion, and in many cases, we do it relentlessly.
We are encouraged to go beyond what we currently have.
Enough is when that internal clock tells you that you shouldn’t be going for that extra.
Usually when you are eating, there is something called a satisfaction point.
It’s the point before your stomach starts to stretch itself to accommodate that extra spoon of rice.
Where eating is no longer for pleasure but out of greed or survival.

Update added on 3/11/2020: Most of this piece was done more than 3weeks ago but something happened last night.
I got texts from two people in both situations, there was enough said to make me turn my head.
Reconsider.
Re-explore.
Be discontent.
But I am thankful for the thoughts that reminded me to focus on me. What I have and I am building.
Staying where I am chosen and not seeking more, the more may seem glamorous but isn’t always so.
Contentment is being okay in the unknown but having faith and discernment to hold firm.

Abundance comes with responsibility.
Ease of access comes with self-control – in any walk of life.
As I grow and morph into better versions of myself, I hope I retain the ability to say no when I don’t even have to ask the thing in question.

Till next time, stay up!

Please Leave a Comment Below!

Thank you for reading!

Please comment, retweet and share. Thank you for your continued support.
You are highly appreciated.

#WordsOfWednesday
© 2020 #WhatTheHeckMan

Fiction

I Choose You: To the Man, I Want to Be

Eniiwaju. Adewus. The Wordsmith. Legend.

Eniiwaju,

Thank you for persevering, for evolving and believing in yourself even when the chips are down.
You are gifted, talented and a kind person.
Some may read those and think I’m arrogant but after spending much of my adult life doubting and being afraid of my genius, I am reclaiming my slay.

The concept of the man I want to be has been sitting with me lately. People make the jokes about turning 30 soon and getting old or achieving this or that but the truth it, I just want to be a good man.
I want to be a man that my friends are proud of, that my parents and family rely on and that God is delighted in.

Earlier this week, I was faced with having an uncomfortable conversation with a friend. Tell the truth and hurt their feelings or be silent and it would blow over. I spoke up.
It was still hard but it’s more of the man I want to be.
A man of his word even in the most difficult.
29 is about challenging myself to be my best. I will be the man I am proud.
Thank you for watching me grow over the last 6-7years.
More creativity coming and more of Adewus, The Wordsmith that you will be proud to call your own.

Let’s get it! But before that, let’s review 2019 and project aspects of 2020.

Happy Birthday to Me!

This is me all through 29.

Faith: I started reading my bible again and truly taking my service in his vineyard more serious. We are on the path to redemption and taking my place in my home.

2019 Final Score – C+
2020 Expected Score – B+

Fitness: I’m back in physical therapy. It will go a long way towards me being whole again. I am also back in therapy, so mind and body will be touched this year.
I completed the 75Hard Challenge which was 75 days on a strict regimen. If for that alone, I killed 2019. More to come!

2019 Final Score – B+
2020 Expected Score – A

Creativity: I need an editor. I have so much written already. To my old editor, I know you will read this. You working with me on this forged a huge part of our friendship as well, let’s actually start our journey back?Y’all should beg my editor to come back o. If you want good and consistent content, they need to come back to full-time work. Seriously.

2019 Final Score – C-
2020 Expected Score – A

Finances: Around this time last year, God blessed me with a nice promotion to kick off the year. It was unexpected.
When I was laid-off in June and finished working in June, I was shook and depressed. I had goals! I had things to pay off. So much I wanted to do.
It derailed me a bit and that is why the score I have given myself is lower than I expected/projected but I think the thing it most emphasized is the fact that I need to save more and be extra diligent with my planning.
God almost doubled my financial blessings last year and I am so grateful. It has already positioned me to be able to do more.
I am going to be really aggressive this year.
So….

2019 Final Score – C+
2020 Expected Score – A+

Relationships: I have already committed to doing love right this year. I want to do it without fear, caution or trepidation.
Last year hurt. Like my love life was the ghetto – ratatata. I was stressed and unhappy.
I am ready this year.
First step this year is self-love. I am back in therapy and I am going to take care of me first before opening the door to external love.
My biggest prayer is that I am ready for the woman ready to choose me without fear and love me unapologetically.

2019 Final Score – F
2020 Expected Score – B

I will be back to update you on 2020 in 2021 but till we get there, let’s enjoy so much content to blow your mind this year.
Remember, you are AMAZING and I will celebrate you and with you all year.
Happy Birthday to US!

Thanks for reading as always!

Thank you for commenting. Here is to a fun 2020!
You are highly appreciated.

WordsOfWednesday/Birthday!

© 2020 #WhatTheHeckMan

Fiction

Bang!

We come to the people that hurt us for healing or decide we won’t move or heal until they validate the hurt they caused us.

– Adewus

Today I had a conversation with an abuser.
It was simple.
The FaceTime call came in, I answered at the office and the person asked one question.

“How do you know this girl?”

Not “how was work?. How are you?”
A woman I had never met before.

The next hour would be spent talking through their feelings, assumptions and perfections of me.
Then I stopped.
I noticed that my mood had changed, I was upset.
Heavy hearted.
And then thankfully, I had the presence of mind to remind myself that this wasn’t about me.

Said person had made me doubt myself before, question my purest thoughts and even start to feel like I was unworthy of love.
It got me thinking, why do we allow ourselves to go blind to the dangerous things that burned us before?
There is a need to continue to litigate our hurt and pain. We want to fully understand, conceptualize, rationalize it and then play chess master in trying to run the game again to this time, avoid the same outcome.
It hardly ever works.

Recently, I was exploring a friendship that I have been nurturing in private for almost a year. I started to ask myself recently, why haven’t we argued or fought? What is going on?
A part of me was unable to understand why the relationship wasn’t like some of the toxic ones I have had in my past.
And then it dawned on me, you have to actively realize that you are deserving of healthy liberating and empowering friendship and love.

Most of my sense of style comes from my father and growing up, he was always very particular about how we treated our clothes.
Most especially our church clothes.
He would love his shit if he saw us running around in them or not being proper in our Sunday best.
He used to say “it is not about the clothes really but some people will stain your clothes; knowingly and unknowingly”
Some know that their hands are dirty.
Others are unaware but if you allow yourself to continue spending time in spaces that have mud, whether they meant it or not, you will get stained.
Leaving the door open to an abuser is a direct bath to misery. Not always because they intend to but because that all they bring to the table.

You don’t kick someone out, change the locks and then give them the new code to your house so they can see how beautiful it is inside.

-Adewus

I’ve been actively running from friendships that don’t bring me peace, ground me while lifting me up.
As someone who immensely feels things, “losing” friends can be extremely hard but as I get older and wiser, I am starting to understand the value of protecting my peace. My sanity. My peace of mind.
Those things are not “pretty”. They are not always pronounced or easily discoverable like confidence or the glow but they are incredibly important.

It is also important to understand the triggers and the ways we enable abuse in our own lives. We have to take responsibility for it.
Most importantly, we have to we have to keep all the negatives out.
You don’t kick someone out, change the locks and then give them the new code to your house so they can see how beautiful it is inside.
Nobody does that.
You are responsible for genuine happiness and growth this 2020.
So block her, don’t call him back, delete his album on your phone. Breathe.
You got this.
Take control of your peace. You will be better for it. Your world will be grateful for it.

Till next time,

Stay Up!

Please Leave a Comment Below!

Thank you for reading!

Please comment, retweet and share. Thank you for your continued support.
You are highly appreciated.

#WordsOfWednesday
© 2020 #WhatTheHeckMan

Fiction

Alarms

WordsOfWednesday

Alarms.

I remember the two times in my life that I slept through an alarm. The most recent was a couple of years ago after returning from Nigeria. I was so tired and sick but I had planned to go into work the day after I got back (bad idea).
I woke up around 3am and I couldn’t go back to sleep. Nothing was working.
So I decided to drink some NyQuil.
My thoughts were “at least it would knock me out for a few hours”

A few hours turned to waking up at 12pm. My manager in New York had called a few times looking for me and such, I was stunned when I woke up.
I stared at my phone and thought it was a mistake.
It wasn’t. I fixed the situation by thinking on my feet but damn it got me.

Alarms are annoying.
They are loud, obnoxious and necessary. Many times, anything that is a combination of all those things is not typically fancied.
They interrupt beautiful unearned but deserved sleep and cut short those dreams of you and Idris Elba or better yet, you and I.
Freaking alarms!
They however, are the focus of my piece today.

A few days ago, I began to think about how we use alarms in reference to our goals.
Many of us ignore the first alarm aka the first opportunity to take a leap at something.
Think about it, most of the ideas/goals/dreams/opportunities you have, come from various places but most fail to act the first time.
How many times have you thought about that business?
Or that trip? That job or that relationship?
And how many times have you hit snooze?

Alarms are similar to those goals.
We love to ignore the first sound of them, the first time the challenge comes or the first jolt into a new level.
We silence it.
And even for those that have decided to step up to the challenge, many still don’t.
You know how?
They set multiple alarms back to back. Basically using them as a safety net.
Eventually getting up but taking the long way and ignoring the calls to action.

Imagine not executing because you have placed multiple fail safes along the way. But what happens when you snooze too long and you “oversleep”?
Miss your opportunity to get ahead or set the tone? That you take your time and wait but someone else has now executed on your vision or gained more of the market share.
Many of us miss out on chances to be great because we ignore the first alarm. The first sound, call to action or simply, the first reminder.
Now I am not asking you to jump at everything immediately. There is value in being strategic.
But always know this, there is not fatigue felt on the day of victory.
I am not like Steve Harvey telling you not to sleep, please enjoy your sleep but remember you are working towards a life where alarms are not annoying but simple reminders of new opportunities for greatness.

Next time you hear the first sound at being great, jump at it.
You’ll be better for it and so will the rest of your world.
Till next time, stay up.

Stay Up!

Thank you for reading!

Please comment, retweet and share. Thank you for your continued support.
You are highly appreciated.

#WordsOfWednesday
© 2019 #WhatTheHeckMan

Fiction

The August Visitor

4 Prayer Points at August Holy Ghost Service

  • The perfect job for me by Monday night and (redacted). The offer came on a Monday afternoon.
  • (redacted)
  • Perfect healing for me, mummy and everyone in my family.
  • Divine happiness this year and explosive miracles.

On June 28th, I walked into my office in San Francisco. It was a regular Friday – nothing special.
Well, except my boss was going on vacation for 3weeks.
I was kinda stoked. Not because he was annoying or overbearing but I was planning a vacation as well.

My boss had scheduled a meeting for that afternoon. It was unusual because we typically met on Wednesdays and Thursdays if needed.
I totally saw nothing of it.
I walked in and I was told that the business had decided to cut my vertical and essentially put jobs of almost 350 people in limbo.

That weekend, I battled through shock and depression to clean up my resume and start applying. July 4th holiday was the following week. I battled through this unexpected news to go out and hang out with friends.


It has been a rollercoaster ride.
From certainty to doubt and disbelief while sadness continued to show its ugly face.
In May, a lot had happened that caused me to tap into my savings and essentially drain it for family stuff.
So when this happened in June, I questioned God.
I would randomly burst into tears and begin to imagine how I would be able to take care of my family and my bills.
I was like God, you made me the head to now put me to shame?

One song that I always sang through it all was Freke Umoh’s “You Are My God”
We cannot call on your name
and end up in shame (no way)
We cannot kneel before Jesus
and kneel before a man (no way no)
I cannot bow before Yahweh
And bow to recession (no way no)
(No way, no way)
I cannot cry before the Lord
And cry to depression
(No way, no way)
You are my God
You are my God
You are my God
You are my God

I kept saying there is no way I could worship and serve you and you will let me be put to shame!
No way!
I would sing that song over and over! I could never finish singing it without crying.

Very quickly, a company reached out to me and I was sure they were the one. Their office was in Oakland and so close to the house. I was so happy that I would not need to drive far and I would have a job really quickly after leaving the other one.
Welp.
The interview went well and I got some useless rejection email.
God said “I have better for you”

I must say that through it all, EVERY ONE of the few people I told about my situation was incredibly confident that I would get something soon.
Confident to the point of arrogance that it somewhat annoyed me. Like I’m out here unemployed and you are here confident I’ll get another one. How???
I kept pushing.

More interviews rolled in after one powerful Holy Ghost Service at church – August 2nd.
We were told to write down 4 things we wanted by the end of the month. I wrote mine in this same note page that I’m writing this and I kept praying.
I am writing this mid-air on the way to Cancun for my friend’s bachelor party with 2 offers in hand and waiting on more.
I knew I was going to share this with you all once God did it. When I got my last job, I know how much it inspired many people that reached out to me. That same God did not put me to shame.

Imagine that leaving that job, I have been blessed with a 41% salary increase. It is unbelievable how this God moves!
Before I left my last job, I was annoyed that I was only given a 4% increase in a year that saw “exceptional growth and promotion” – their words.

I remember a few years ago when God had blessed me with a promotion and I was trying to record an IG video and I burst into tears, some people teased me and called me names for crying in public.
But believe me when I say this, this God is tooooooo good o! And I will never be shamed into hiding what he has done for me and my loved ones.

I was kinda tense about when the job would land in my hands. Let me tell you about the day it came – I was in the gym working out when I got the official offer letter.
When I saw the amount they were giving me and the perks – I literally laid down face flat, sweaty and broke into tears on the gym floor.
Nobody likes embarrassment but if that’s how he wants to keep blessing me and showing out, I am here for it 100%

A song that has been in my heart over this trying period is Mercy Chinwo’s Omekannaya.
There is a part of that song that says
“They may not understand
How far you’ve brought me
Man may not understand”

I cried o. Even as I was going through it, people were calling me and demanding or wanting things – me that I was deep in my valley. I remember tweeting something to that effect.

It literally humbles me and reminds me that this God that created the earth and the 7billion in it, knows me by name and treats me special.
For those of you going through a trying time and wondering why and if God is listening, he totally is and he is working a miracle for you.
Hold on and keep the faith. Never stop praying and believing. He is never late, he is always on time.
Ask that he allows you to let his will be done and that you are aligned with what he wants for you.

Let me tell you, that same job that I was crying about, that same company just fired 50% of its staff.
And the stock dropped billions of dollars and I am on a new team that respects and values me and my input.
A few weeks ago another song kept me going – Mercy Chinwo’s Incredible God.
Extraordinary strategist, impossibility specialist,
You made the earth your footstool, Incredible God.
You’re seated in heaven,

This God knew that ship would sink and he removed me from it, put me on dry land and kept me.
Life will throw curveballs at you but God is playing a completely different game on a totally different level.
Your life and story will be a testimony – I truly believe it.
Thanks for continuing to rock with me. I’ll be here to celebrate with you.

Till 2020,

Stay Up!

Thank you for reading!

Please comment, retweet and share. Thank you for your continued support. See you all in 2020!
You are highly appreciated.

#WordsOfWednesday
© 2019 #WhatTheHeckMan

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

The Fixer

The Fixer

“I am so tired.
I am tired. I don’t need any encouraging words or “it will get better”
I am tired.
For the last 10 days, I have been dealing with family stuff as someone has been unexpectedly and worryingly sick in my immediate family.
Putting on a strong face and trying to keep it all together but dying inside.
I am so stressed. I want to cry every day but I feel like I am too strong. I need to be strong to hold it all together.
Parking was a fucking shit show this morning because of stupid construction happening in the fucking high of the day!
Took me over an hour to park. I hate everyone and everything.
My parents lied!
They promised me, forced me to get stupid degrees and promised to pay my student loans.
I make enough but the costs never stop.

Like that was money I was still thinking I would use to buy the rest of the shit I need for Nigeria or even pay for lodging!
I just want to close my eyes and everything ends.
I am tired.

I don’t want to feel all this pain.
I don’t want to be strong.
Don’t fucking know why I am typing this to you but idk.
FUCK THIS SHIT!”

I hit send on the text message, placed my phone to the side of my bed and I closed my eyes.
Seconds later, my mind was racing. I was filled with remorse and regretting even opening up.
I wanted to pick up my phone but this was not WhatsApp, this message was not getting deleted or erased.

The sunlight beamed through the blinds as I woke up. I picked up my phone and looked at the notification panel.
1:38pm.
Fuck! How did I sleep for so long?

I sluggishly got up, weaving through my notifications and apps, I ignored my bible app reminder and went straight for my iMessage.
As I pulled it up, I noticed that my message from the night before had been read four hours prior but no reply.

Fucking Kamal.

……

“Tobi, where are you?”

I heard him chuckle over the phone and he replied

“Chill, I’m coming”

I growled and snapped back

“Tobi, you said you have been coming since morning. If you couldn’t come, you should have just told me and I would have found a way to come and get it.
Where are you now, so I can come and get it?”

I could tell my anger took him by surprise as he said

“I’m already on my way to you. I’m bringing it”

I replied

“How long?!”

“15minutes”

He snarled back.

Click. The call was over.

The next roughly 15minutes were sooo annoying!
One thing I hate more than anything else is being made to wait.
I needed that bag and what is more annoying is that I gladly would have gone to get it myself.
But here I was waiting on someone who didn’t see the urgency in what I needed.

When he pulled up, I opened the door and let him in.
His first words didn’t help because I was doing everything within my power to not snatch my purse from him.
He smiled and said

“Why are you so angry?”

I took a deep breath and said

“Tobi, give me my purse”

He started trying to play hookie with me by running around the coffee table in the center of my living room.
I was so angry and I charged at him.
He ducked and turned around the couch, he was now standing between the couch and my dining table.
I stopped to catch my breath and I said

“Tobi, please give me my purse. I am tired abeg”

He smiled and started walking towards me with his hands behind his back, both on my purse.
I walked towards him and we were soon standing within inches of each other.
He leaned in and tried to kiss me.
I weaved and moved my head as I said

“Tobi stop. Just please give me my purse. I’m really tired”

He smirked and said

“Not giving it to you until you give me a kiss”

I turned around to walk away. I was boiling inside.
He tried to grab my forearm as I turned away. In one swoop, I swung around and smacked his hand.
There was a look of pure shock on his face, he clearly didn’t think I was going to hit him that hard.
He pulled his hand out and stretched my purse towards me.

I collected it and sluggishly walked into the room.
I opened the bag and began shuffling in the purse for what I was looking for.
I couldn’t find it.
I couldn’t fucking find it!
My eyes were getting cloudy and my heart was racing. I turned the contents of the purse on to the bed.
A parking ticket I had been putting off was amongst the contents. I hissed as I rummaged through the bag still looking for the item.
No luck.

I could feel my breath leaving me.
I got up and went towards my bedside desk. Opening the drawer, I started looking for it there.
Nothing.
I walked back to the bed and sat down.
At this point, the tears were coming down my face.
I was afraid.
My mind went blank. The last time I saw it, I was putting it into my purse.
So where could it have gone?
I stood up to head into the living room. As I stood up, I felt my legs give way and I slumped with the back of my head catching the corner of my bed.
The last thing I heard was Tobi bursting into my room.
I saw his legs as he bent next to me and lifted my head into his arms.

He kept calling my name.
I was slowly forgetting mine.
My eyes shut.

…..

“Do you know when the last time she took her medication was?”

Those were the first words I heard as I was getting wheeled into the emergency room. There was no way Tobi could have known.

As they parked the bed, the doctors tried to ask me some questions. I roughly remember what I said.
Soon there was a drip going into my forearm and I felt myself drifting off again. The last thing I remember was motioning weakly to Tobi who was sitting next to me, he rode up and stood over me.
I sheepishly whispered

“Kamal.”

He looked confused. I whispered again

“Call Kamal”

When I woke up about 5hours later, Tobi and Kamal were sitting on opposite sides of the bed, flanking me.
I could feel the tension between them. It was like a cloud over the open bed space.
Tobi must have used my Face ID to get into my phone which was what I expected anyways and Kamal, while worried about me, must have not understood why Tobi was there.

I slowly sat up and said

“Have you two met?”

Tobi shook his head and said

“I just called him like you asked”

My lips were chapped and my throat was dry. I swallowed hard and said

“Thank you”

I looked over at Kamal and smiled before continuing

“I told you to call Kamal because he knew my medication and would have been able to tell the doctors”

Kamal jumped in and said

“Yes, I told them already and they gave you a drip and a refill, you should be good to leave here later tonight or tomorrow if you want”

I slid back into the bed.
I could tell that Tobi was dying inside, I could see it on his face. He didn’t know why I fainted and here I was asking another man to come and meet us at the hospital. But, I was not about to explain at that time. I was too weak.
He tried to hold it together for a bit and then he said

“Hey- So I have to go and take care of some work stuff.
Will you let me know when you get discharged?”

I nodded.
He leaned in gave me a hug and then that “man” nod to Kamal before walking out.

As he walked out, I turned to look at Kamal.
He smiled without saying anything. I asked

“What?”

He smiled and said

“Nothing o. You just know how to pick them”

Slightly embarrassed, I replied

“I didn’t even do anything”

He smiled even more and said

“Yeah right, you never do”

He continued and said

“How are you feeling? I was worried when I got the call”

I looked down on the bed and said

“I’m fine to be honest, I just didn’t take my meds because I couldn’t find them.
But I’m good honestly”

He said

“Are you sure?”

I nodded and said

“You know me, I’m good”

He said okay and then he asked

“Are we still on for this weekend, now that you have decided to put me in a death scare”

I replied

“Ori e” – translates to “Your head” before continuing to say

“Honestly, I should be good with a day of rest and icing my head. I think I hit it on the bed when I fell.
Hurts like a MF”

He replied and said

“Lmaooooo its because your head is so big”

If I could have punched him, I totally would have.

…..

As we pulled up to the venue, I noticed that he still had his drink in the door of the car.

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

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

His eyes kept wandering as he was amazed by the setup. There were video games everywhere.
We ordered our drinks and I saw him googling “Mario Kart games on PlayStation 4”. Such a big kid.
I asked the bartender to surprise me with my drink and I think he ordered a Red Bull.
We took our drinks and headed into the venue, the show was about to start.
As we approached the door, we got stopped and were told to get our tickets at the box office. So we walked all the way back to the front, got the tickets and then headed in.

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

The show was fun. Lots of laugh, improv nights are 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 his bones since I picked him up at the airport.
As we walked out, I noticed this white girl who had come up to me in the club.

She was sitting down on the floor with a cup of ice.
I asked

“What happened? You left me in there”

She was so drunk and even attempting to respond to me, she knocked over her cup of ice and she looked so distraught. I felt bad but I rushed out of there so quick!
We made it to the car and I couldn’t wait to get us home. He was playing music and we were having a great time in the car and then he asked

“How far away from the house are we?”

I nonchalantly replied

“About 5 minutes”

He smiled and once we hit a red light, he leaned over and kissed me.
Then he slid his left hand up my skirt. I couldn’t concentrate.
My legs started shaking and my breathing short. He slid my panties to the side and began rubbing my clit.
I was squirming while trying to keep the car steady.
What the fuck?
I could feel the chills rising up my back. I wanted to close my eyes and let go but we were almost home.
I remember veering out of my lane and my car beeping to alert me.
I was alert alright, my pussy was ready for a beating.
To cap it off, he removed his hand, looked at me and licked my juices off his 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 he reclined my seat.
He leaned in as if he was about to kiss me. I was wrong.
He reached up my skirt and pulled my panties down.
Kissed me on the forehead and hopped out of the car.
I was soooooooo angry!
Like wtf?!

I gathered myself, pulled my skirt down and hopped out of the car.
There he was standing in the middle of the parking lot, all 6’3 260lbs of him. His left hand was to his face.
As I got closer, I realized he was holding my panties to his nose.
We entered my apartment and he sat down on the couch, I made him a drink and pulled down his pants.
I was ready to go.

His moans were my favorite part. His hands running through my hair as he cursed and told me

“This is the best head ever”

My inner thot smiled.
I stroked and slurped down his shaft, soaking his balls and drinking on to my leather couch.
I wanted all of him deep in my throat and in my guts.
He tried to fight it but wasn’t very successful.
He went silent as I stroked his dick with my left hand and juggled his balls with my right hand.
He pushed me off and walked me back to the room.

He climbed on the bed and laid on his back.
I climbed on the bed and planted my pussy on his face before leaning forward and taking in his dick – 69.
It was wet on both ends of the coast as we feasted on each other.
He pushed me off as I came and was about to lean into me, there is a full length mirror at the foot of my bed, I caught a glimpse of myself.
As I laid down, I spread my legs wide. He lowered his member into me and started slow.
Cupping my head in his hand and protecting it from the head board, he thrust in and out.
The pace picked up and my profanity did as well.
He was hitting it right.
His grip on my thighs was as hot as the depths his dick was exploring.
I could see the hunger in his eyes.
He pounded me like candied yams. I was loving it.

When he flipped me over, I was ready.
I arched my back and tooted my ass towards him. He smiled and slide into me.
I could still feel how wet his balls were as they slammed into my clit.
He grabbed the shit out of my waist and he went to work. It was as if we hadn’t seen each other in 3 months.
He kept at it and so did I, throwing it back like a third draft of a senior thesis.

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

“Fill me up”

Boom.
He grunted.
Moaned and pumped me full of his warm seed.
I lay there for a few minutes as he curled up next to me panting for air.
I turned over and said

“Where are my panties?”

He smiled and said

“You’re never getting them back”

It was going to be a long weekend and I was going to enjoy every minute of it.
I rolled over in the bed as he got up and headed to the bathroom.

The lights went on and then he said

“The condom broke”

 

Welcome to my first series of 2019! Expect a lot more this year. That’s all I’m saying.
Oh also, please leave me a comment and share your thoughts. 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

© 2019 #WhatTheHeckMan

#WordsofWednesday · Fiction · Poetry

We Rise by Lifting Others

#WordsOfWednesday

Life Support

For weeks now, I have been trying to stop and write about this.
It’s been eating me for a while and over the course of this post, I will drop some familiar quotes that you may have heard.

As we get older, many of us are finding purpose in life, monetizing talents and honestly just trying to make our hustles come good for us.
As you become an “owner”, you start to find that support is weird. It’s something you know you’re not entitled to but you crave and demand in certain spaces.

“Not everyone is like you”

The aforementioned quote is important and I’ll speak to it shortly.
But, about not being entitled to support and still demanding it.
We all know that in life, nothing is promised.
Nothing is given and almost everything is earned.
By virtue of that quote, you cannot be entitled to someone’s support.
And let’s be clear, when I speak about support, I don’t mean support in being an abusive partner, I mean tangible support to greatness.

To me it should be simple, if I know you personally and I respect you, you almost automatically have my support.
That means if you are my friend and you start a business or start to chase your dreams, I will be with you.
Monetarily if I can and sometimes by just being another voice spreading the word about whatever you are doing.
Secondly, if you are someone I know in passing (Twitter, IG or in social space) and you have a sound product, I will support you as well.

I feel challenged to do good everyday, so in spaces that I find myself, I offer support.
That means buying from my friends and not expecting things for free. Or retweeting every damn thing they post and shouting them out when I can.
Look, it is not easy and honestly, I don’t think people that fail to support are evil people.
I just think as we get older, means of showing love and support should become more tangible.
It’s not enough to say you care about me but you haven’t listened to a single episode of my show all year or say you support your friend but you patronize big brands instead of their handmade or original stuff.

If you are a lazy friend, more than likely, you come off as an unsupportive friend.
It’s hard enough in a saturated social media space to carve a niche but you expect to rely on those you love to at least help you get off your feet.
Look, in the first few months of my show

“Subscribe here to my weekly radio show/podcast on iTunes. Rate us and leave us a comment if you will please”

I used to ping my friends before we went live.
Like hey,
“are you listening? We are live”
But as we go live this week, I don’t “need” my friends to have an impactful show.
But I also know how I got here, some of my friends listened every week, told others about what I do, shared my art and helped me grow.
And I owe that to everyone I care about and respect.

What sucks is when you have people who won’t actively support you.
I have a friend who is very popular in her field. Doesn’t actively support me, but supports similar brands. Now it could be because my shit sucks, which I doubt or she doesn’t care.
But recently she got nominated for an award and wanted to win badly.
Suddenly, it was “guys please log in here and vote for me”.
And I’m like sis what????
We all didn’t start at the same time but if you have been blessed with a following or a large platform, use it to be supportive.

“We rise by lifting others”

I love people that live for shouting out their friends.
It’s so beautiful to watch.

“Your support can be your currency”

Look sometimes you can’t actively support your friends.
My friend Eche, CEO of Afropolitan Group based in SF.
Has many events, sometimes weekly and I cannot attend all of them.
But I can retweet when he posts and encourage others to attend.
Or some who have friends that make expensive products that you cannot afford.
Your support can be your currency.
Spread the word and you never know who else will patronize them.

It’s also important to understand that like I said earlier, no one owes you shit.
And it is futile begging for the support of folks who are too lazy to care or don’t see value in your dream.
Keep pushing on and working hard.
One day, you’ll make it big and be bigger than you currently are.
Those same people will be the first to congratulate you and tweet/post that they knew you from earlier days.
Fuck ‘em.

Thank you!

~ The Wordsmith

 

 New Series is coming on Saturday!

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

#WordsOfWednesday
© 2018 #WhatTheHeckMan