Perelayefa Brisibe clenched and
unclenched his fists in anger. Adesua was making him mad.
“Oh please, Pere! Get over yourself! The world does not revolve around you.”
Adesua hissed at her husband of five years. “I can damn well go wherever I please!”
Pere squinted and turned to look at her. “Are you moving mad?” His voice rose
by an octave as anger overtook his senses.
“I’m not but you’ve lost the right to tell me where to go and where not to go.”
She clapped her hands and sneered. “A man that cannot provide for his family.
Is that one a man? You call yourself an entrepreneur! Entrepreneur my
foot! Entrepreneur that cannot fend for his family! Is that one even a
man?”
When the back of his hand suddenly contacted her face, Pere realized what he had
done.
He had never beaten Adesua. He had never laid his hands on her. What was he
becoming? He moved to touch her. “I’m sorry.” He muttered again and again.
“Don’t touch me.” She hissed. “You think you are a man ehn? If you like,
beat me from today till tomorrow. That will still not make you a man!”
Pere tightened his fist and restrained himself from punching her in the mouth.
Adesua was always one for snide remarks. Unfortunately, he had become the
recipient of all that lately. He wasn’t a wife beater. He never laid his hands
on women. He felt terrible.
He picked his car keys up. It was better he left the house before he became
responsible for what he would not be able to handle.
Adesua had always been high maintenance. Only the best of fashion designers in
Lagos made her clothes. She wore the most expensive wigs and weaves one
could find. Summer vacations were never to be missed. Oh, but she was
everything he had wanted in a woman.
They had met at his godfather’s party. She was the daughter of the then
political aspirant, Efosa Alohan who was a highly connected person. He knew
he’d benefit largely from a union with his daughter, and he had.
He knew that she was a materialistic person. Spoiled too. His business was
thriving, and he had investments here and there. He could fund her expensive
lifestyle.
Alas! One scam had been all it took to cause his well-baked cookie to crumble.
He was back to ground zero. Starting from scratch right where he had started.
He had hoped that Adesua would be reasonable and try to adjust given the
situation but that was not to be. She wanted all the luxuries she was used to
and his inability to provide them rendered him useless in her books.
He walked out of the house. A long drive was what he needed to put his thoughts
together and get some fresh air away from her and her drama.
“Agnes!” He heard Adesua yelling their house help’s name. “Get me a pack of ice
from the freezer!”
“Yes, ma.” Agnes answered and hurried along.
“Dad!” Their only son, Tonye called on his way to the car.
“Yes, son.” He replied.
“Are you going out? Can I go with you?”
“No….” He answered firmly and saw the look of disappointment on his son’s face.
It was a Friday evening, and he didn’t know what time he would be back.
“Sorry, buddy. I’ll take you out tomorrow.”
The smile on his son’s face warmed his heart.
“Okay, dad. Don’t stay out too late so mummy doesn’t get angry.”
“Yeah.” He said.
“Pere!” One of his neighbors stopped to greet him. Back in the days, people
used to call him 'Kpere' like it was a Yoruba word. He’d had to correct them
time and time again. "It's Pere like Perez without the 'Z'.”
When he was in Primary school, his classmates found delight in calling him
‘Kpere’. They liked seeing him upset. In the end, he gave up and allowed them
to call him whatever.
All that changed when he got to the University. People were mature and
respected his wish for them to call his name properly.
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