FOR TWO DAYS ADAOBI HAD been apprehensive. Since such opportunities don’t present themselves often, she had been tensed up, uncertainty caged inside her, within the lonely house.
When the door swung open, she hurried into the spacious living room. That afternoon, between five and five-thirty, she sat in an armchair, broodingly confined to it, waiting for him. Despite the aromatic lavender scent, the air remained cool. She sat in a fresh congregation of apprehension, her thoughts racing. The man would be in soon.
There was no noise except the distant sound of barking dogs and something that might pass for the man’s footsteps.
Within minutes, he crossed the room calmly. Emeka, the homeowner, was a thin, working-class male. He chose a plush armchair near a grand piano, its dark wood surface reflecting the fading light of the afternoon. With a relaxed gesture, he loosened his tie as if shedding the constraints of the day.
Five minutes passed with neither of them speaking. Ten feet away, Adaobi felt trapped in her chair, unable to find words to break the silence. Desperate to hear him say something, she turned her gaze towards him but quickly averted her eyes, unsure what to say. With shorter intervals, she flicked her eyes toward the letter resting on the coffee table, then back to him. Though she understood all he had told her, she’d lost interest in his assurances. She hoped he would understand her current state of mind. There was a deep restlessness inside her, a desperation she’d never felt.
After what felt like an eternity, a minute slipped by in silence before Adaobi finally broke it. Her eyes met his, filled with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.
With a gentle tone, she said, “You promised you’d read the letter once we get home.”
He stared at her from under an aligned hedge of eyebrows. A warm smile remained on his face, the kind she’d not seen for a long time. “Yes. I’ll read it.”
She breathed down and rested her back on the backrest.
As he walked across the room toward the table, his gaze was fixed on her. He slouched beneath the warm light of the chandelier, absorbing the letter as if its meaning required further explanation. After a few minutes of contemplation, he said, “It clearly states that you resume work by 7 a.m. and close by 7 p.m. This must be a tedious job for the pay they are offering you.”
“I have suffered all these years looking for a job. Not to talk about the boredom of staying at home.”
“My dear wife, I understand. I want you to realize that I want the best for you.”
She said, “I have loved you as a wife should love her husband. In submission, I have submitted to you in all that you say. But do you suppose I’ll be happy staying at home all the days of our married life without finding a paid job?”
When Emeka tossed the letter back on the table, Adaobi said, “I want you to put yourself in my position.”
“Calm down. Don’t get upset. You can count on me to continue caring for you. I can provide for you,” he said.
He started toward her. He was halfway when he said, “See, I have built a big, beautiful house to put a roof over our head—a shelter to shelter you from the claws of ravenous wolves masquerading as employers. Don’t worry about any of those things. There is fulfilment in a man providing for his family.”
“I am troubled in my heart,” she said.
“Why? The evening is fast approaching and I want you to have a good night’s rest.”
During these seventeen years, Emeka had engaged in this old-fashioned talk of providing for his family. He knew how weak she was in deciding on this matter. Adaobi had a strong aversion to facing challenges. Instead of confronting difficulties head-on she preferred to avoid them, hoping they will resolve on their own. He was taking advantage of her wavering determination to stick with a decision.
He stood in front of her and reached for her shoulder.
Although in her late thirties, despair had aged her, making her appear much older than her years. She looked at the wall clock ticking in the surrounding stillness. The hands of the clock seemed to move with agonizing slowness, each tick a relentless reminder that time was slipping away without a sign of change in her predicament. It was now six, the soft chime of the hour just fading into the background. Taking a deep breath, she finally spoke, her voice steady. “Please, sit down. I want us to talk this over,” she said.
“Why do you squeeze your face?”
She gestured him over to the armchair. “Please, sit down. I have something to say.”
He made for the chair, saying, “I don’t understand you again. What’s this sitting down about?”
“I know you don’t understand me, and I have taken time to know you. I want us to look at things objectively.”
“Objectively. How?”
“Has it occurred to you that for all the years we have been married you have had your way in almost everything regarding my affairs?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Do you realize that I desire some things that make me happy?”
“My wife. I have always worked hard to make you happy.”
She shook her head. “I now see that you don’t understand the woman you married, and it brings me a great deal of unhappiness.”
“I didn’t hear you well. What did you just say?”
“You get everything you feel I would like without first asking me. Your taste for things automatically becomes my taste. I am not quite sure how you’ll feel if I tell you I don’t like the things you buy for me. I feel like a miserable housewife who has not contributed anything to this house.”
Emeka resembled the doll Andy in the Toy Story cartoon. His face was smooth and free of blemishes, with fresh, chubby skin and perfectly manicured hands, typical of the wealthy. He retorted, “That’s not true.”
“Yes. I thought you loved me, but it was not true love.”
“What!” With a smile that quickly turned into a frown, he felt offended. “Who has been feeding you with all this nonsense?”
“I now realize that this marriage has favored only you.”
He said, “Let me tell you what this is all about—”
“Don’t lecture me again.”
He sprang to his feet. “Adaobi!”
“Yes, you were right. I have not taken good care of the home as you expected. Now, I should focus on caring for myself and understanding my needs. I don’t want to learn this from you; I will figure it out myself, outside this house.”
A surprised laugh issued from him. “What did you say?”
For a moment she was overwhelmed by the revelation she was about to share. She paused for a few seconds, glancing between the letter and Emeka. Tears welled up in her eyes. She spoke with a shaking voice and said, “I am leaving you.”
He was speechless. His eyes widened. After a brief moment, he spoke. “What madness has come upon you?”
“I’ll be free to find something to do—earn a living outside this place.”
“You see how you lack sense in the affairs of life.”
“That is just what I seek to gain.”
“I hope you have considered what your family will think about you.”
“What is important to me is what I think about myself.”
“Maybe you have forgotten that you are a married woman and a mother.”
“I have not forgotten that I am a conscious human being, with dreams and must think of ways to accomplish them.”
“You baffle me with this inconsiderate attitude. You have no idea how the society treats rebellious wives.”
“No, I have no idea. But I’m going to figure it out.”
As the dull rays of the tired daylight pouring through the tall windows gave way to tin evening light, he gazed into the space animated with expensive interior décor, then back at Adaobi. “I think you’re out of your mind.”
Adaobi kept her eyes closed, her head tilted toward the ceiling. She didn’t respond; instead, she slipped into profound sadness, realizing he had taken her submission for granted. Returning to an outlook of soothing optimism, she dried her eyes with the back of her palm. At that moment, she felt a newfound clarity in her thoughts. This encouraged her to believe she was ready for what lay ahead of her, no matter how hard it might be. “Today, my reasoning power has never been clearer,” she said with open eyes.
Emeka said, “I now understand that all these years, you have never loved me.”
“You have always provided for me. I cannot take that away from you, but loving a man who does not want me to grow is not what I can do.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I cannot stay here anymore because of that.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“I have waited patiently for your encouragement and support in getting a job, to earn a living instead of asking you for money all the time. I toil day and night for you—lost my identity for your sake. And you want me to sacrifice the only thing I have always wanted before marrying you.”
“Many women make sacrifices for their families.”
She rose from her seat, her eyes fixed on him. “For sure, I have sacrificed my blood to keep you alive when you almost died in an accident. But you don’t talk like a man I want to share my life with. I realize now that I’ve been a fool, placing my trust in you without thinking about myself. You have taken advantage of my blind faith, and it pains me. I feel like killing myself.”
He looked sober. Anyway, he was never sober. “Genuine as your case may be,” Emeka said, “Suicide is not a good thing.”
“As it stands, I cannot stay in a house belonging to a stranger.”
He gazed at her, a frown on his face. He spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “Please calm down and take a seat,” he said, gesturing toward the chair across from him.
Adaobi walked to the coffee table and took off her wedding ring. She casually tossed it onto the table before making her way upstairs. Without looking back, she uttered coldly, “There’s your ring.”
“You know this won’t last. You are my wife and so it shall remain.”