Nigeria's leading fictional story blog. Oyo State and she to Niger State, an old friend who had moved to Awka, Fege where we grew up in Onitsha, Lagos, responsible for the pregnancy, Mercedes C class, Minna.
Maryjane could not give me any convincing answer as to where she had been the previous night. I called off our relationship pending the time she would tell me the truth. I was convinced she had spent the night with a man, but whom? I had no clue. We were almost always together, but somehow, Maryjane managed to have a boyfriend I didn’t know of. After a few weeks, I began to miss her. She sent me letters begging for forgiveness without telling me where she had been. I blindly forgave her knowing that all was not well. Shortly afterwards, a friend of hers starting telling me jokingly that some guy visited Maryjane regularly in a Mercedes C class when I was not around. It was a joke I should have paid attention to.
One evening, Maryjane returned to campus from Onitsha. She had been home to see her parents and siblings. When she arrived on campus, she called to tell me that she was back, but she was too tired to see me.
“I need some rest honey,” she said to me in her addictive voice that I could hardly resist.
“It is okay my darling. Get some rest, I will see you tomorrow,” I concurred blindly.
By the time I was with her the next day, the Mercedes C class guy arrived. He was a common friend; someone Maryjane and I met through another friend. So, how did he find out that Maryjane was back in town? I wondered. The same girl who had been jokingly telling me of the Mercedes C class guy hinted to me that the previous evening, when Maryjane had told me she was too tired, she had gone over to sleep at the Mercedes guy’s apartment. When I confronted her with that, she denied it point blank. Like the fool I was, I let it slide. I was dumb…I should have followed that up.
Additionally, I began to notice some other guy who visited Maryjane every now and again. She claimed he was an old friend who had moved to Awka. Then, I realized she never really introduced me as her boyfriend, so one day I confronted the guy and told him I was Maryjane’s boyfriend. I literally told him to back off, and he did. From that point on, I was fending off guy after guy in Maryjane’s life. That was when God was giving me the signal to walk away, but I turned a deaf ear and a blind eye to all the warning signs.
Then, Youth Service came around. I was posted to Oyo State and she to Niger State. Camp was hell for me. I missed the love of my life beyond measure. I sent her postcards from camp to which I received no replies whatsoever. After camp, I was on my way to Minna. When I got there, it was as if I had walked into crocodile-infested waters. A classmate of mine who served in the area mentioned to me that he did not know what Maryjane was doing with all the boys around, all the way from camp.
“They are just friends,” she claimed when I confronted her. Each day I was there, there was a different guy knocking on the door at an ungodly hour looking for Maryjane. I chose to remain blind…I say that because the sign was boldly written on the wall. By the end of youth service, Maryjane and I returned to the streets of Fege where we grew up in Onitsha. Just weeks into life in Onitsha as we began the arduous task of job-hunting; Maryjane announced that she was pregnant. My life took a turn for the worse. I did all kinds of odd jobs to make ends meet. I sent out applications like a madman while working as a bus conductor at times and as bricklayer at other times because I wanted to be there for her. I never stopped loving her.
I did odd jobs, saved up and married Maryjane. It was not my dream wedding, but to me, it was with my dream wife, and that meant the world to me. I was willing to work my socks off to find a way to provide for her and our coming child. It was a baby girl. The day she was born, I went wild with joy. I struggled finding a decent job, so I turned to commercial bus driving. I had a family to cater for. My parents and siblings were disappointed. After training me in school, I never really gave much back to them. I went straight into catering for my own family. There was a level of guilt that plagued me over that, but I kept going, doing what I could to keep life on track.
One morning, I was home because my bus was down. While I waited for the mechanic to fix it, I listened to the radio at home. Maryjane had gone to the market with Chinecherem, our daughter. I found that Maryjane’s box was open and a piece of paper was sticking out. I took it, flipped it open casually and began to read.
I hope you are doing well. Life has been busy since I returned to Lagos. I really miss you. We had such great times in Minna. I wish you could come to Lagos to visit. I guess the pregnancy will make it difficult for you. So, did you boyfriend buy your story? I wish I could see you now. I really crave your touch. I doubt that I would ever meet another girl who would drive me crazy in bed like you!
My world came crashing down. The letter was written some months after youth service. I looked further in the bag and there were more letters from Deji, Okon and Obinna. Any one of them could have been responsible for the pregnancy. Just like she lied to me the night she had vanished without a trace, Maryjane denied having anything to do with the guys who wrote those letters to her.
“They are not real,” she claimed. “They were just kidding. I refused to date or sleep with any of them, so they sent those letters to tease me.”
“So you gave them your address after youth service so they could send you those ‘fake’ letters?” I asked her.
“I never knew they’d send those. We were just friends during youth service,” she stressed, lying through her teeth.
I had to do something this time. This was too big for me to overlook. I dragged our daughter to Abuja and had a DNA test conducted on her. Indeed, I was not her father. I wish I could find words to describe the pain that gored me on that day like rams doing battle for the right to mate a female. I had lost years simply because I loved blindly even when I saw the warning signs. Why did she not just walk away? Why did she cheat and still stayed with me? Why did she even tell these guys that she was pregnant knowing that they might have been responsible, yet she pinned the pregnancy on me? I wish I could find out the truth. As usual, she clung to her story. She has never admitted anything. Well, she cannot dispute a DNA test that has been repeated three times with the same result.
My teenage love had turned into a nightmare. Well, I managed to end the marriage and carry on with my life in an effort to pick up the pieces. I still pray that Chinecherem gets to know who her real father is someday. I have to admit that I grew really attached to her. I still send her gifts on her birthday. Somehow, I went back to school for a master’s degree after saving up. I have a real job now and I am finally able to look after my parents and help my siblings. I have not fully given up on love yet, but I am walking about with a basin of water, soap and detergent. I will wash my eyes and mind thoroughly for clarity the next time I decide to love…I won’t be falling into love, I can tell you that. I will walk into it with bright shiny eyes that sparkle like stars in the sky, ready to see through the girl I am going to date next…peering firmly and squarely into their heart and mind!
The above story was sent in by Ikemefuna Obiora (actual name withheld) and was edited by moofyme.com editorial team. Ikemefuna Obiora is a staunch fan of moofyme.com. He spends his spare time writing short stories about trends and his personal experiences.
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