Monday, March 23, 2015

Who Am I Without You?- Prologue

My name is Damilola Balogun. No, scratch that. Let's start over. My name is Damilola Oluwagbesan. I have almost forgotten how my father’s name sounds along with my name. Three months ago, my divorce from my husband or should I say Ex-husband was finalized. Right now, I am single but not searching. I have learnt my lesson but it had to be in the hard way.

It all started twelve years ago when I met this fine, young, Yoruba boy. Our high school days were simple the best. I fell for not just his looks, but his intelligence; we were in love. Two years later on the night of our high school graduation he asked me to marry him. We were both eighteen years old and thought what the hell? Let’s do it! We had to do it; I was already two months pregnant. Bolu was go good to me. He was everything  I ever wanted. I couldn't see myself with another. He promised he would take care of us. Which girl wouldn't want that? So I said yes.

The wedding happened so fast. Before we could even finish our honeymoon, Bolu went off to the university. He was gone and I was at home taking care of myself and our baby. Bolu would call every now and then. He would ask after his child and then me. I wondered sometimes how much fun he was having over there in the university. People told me to just forget about him. They said he was not going to come back and since I was still young, I needed to move on with my life. But how could I? I loved my husband. We had a child together. You don't just pack up one morning and give up. Who was going to take care of me and a baby?

Five years later, Bolu graduated. He got himself a fine paying job at an oil company, and our life was well set off. I always knew he would make it big in life. My waiting paid off because at the age of twenty-six, I was already driving one of the best cars in the roads of Lagos, not to mention my bank account which was overflowing. I lived in a house that was as big as all the worries I knew nothing about. When we walked into a room, people saw us as the power couple, like the kinds of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pit, minus all the kids, and something else I did not know was missing.

One night, we had a petty argument about the rumors going around. The rumors were soon driving me crazy so I had to ask my husband about it. He denied having anything to do with her. I didn't push on the issue because if there was anything I did best in my entire life, it was to in his words. As I gathered our dinner plates to the washing sink, my mother called. She was in so much pain. My father had just had another heart-attack and the doctors were not sure he would make it this time. I kissed my husband goodbye as I rushed out of the house. When I got to the hospital, my dad’s condition was not improving at all. The next morning, he gave up and left us. I ran home with a heavy heart that faithful morning.

When I got home, Bolu was no where to be found. I called him but he wouldn't pick up. I left him several voice messages and later at night, he finally picked up my call. The first thing I did was yell at him. I had just lost my father and the one person I needed the most was my husband but where were you? He said to me, “Baby, I'm sorry but I’m not coming back.” 

The next morning, I thought this was all a dream. I made breakfast as usual and got our son ready for school. Everything was fine to me until my mother called. She was making funeral arrangements for my dad. So if my father was truly gone then this was not a dream? My husband just left me!

At first, the shock of both news almost drove me mad. I heard my mom still talking on the phone in her tiny voice that had gone hoarse from crying. “Hope you and your husband will be coming soon? We need you both.” I wanted to tell her what was happening to my home at the moment, but I was not about to add to the woman’s burden. I held it all in for another day and then the next, and the next, but my husband never came.



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    1. Don't you ever drop such miserable comment on my blog alright? Thank you.


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