“Tell me, how did you guys meet?”
Olive cleared her throat just as Bankole did. They looked at each other briefly and looked back at the therapist seated in front of them. She smiled gently at them and pointed at Bankole. “You can start.”
“Okay,” he replied, straightening his back. “We met at Uni. Newcastle University. We were undergrads, new to England and the only Nigerians in the class. Although we were not the only Africans, we just always gave each other a courteous nod or some form of acknowledgement because we were the only Nigerians. So that’s how we met.”
“Sorry, Phebe, can I butt in?”, Olive said clearing her throat again
“Sure”, the therapist replied
“I don’t think I’ll describe that as the ‘how’ of our meeting. I think we actually met that day at the cafeteria. Do you remember?” She was slightly facing Bankole.
“The day with the spoiled asparagus?”
“Exactly”, Olive smiled, but quickly stopped smiling and turned back to the therapist.
Phebe watched both of them in the silence and then said to Olive, “Olive, can you tell me about the spoiled asparagus?”
“Wait, don’t tell me. Let me guess: you hate the asparagus.”
Olive turned sharply to see the person with the Nigerian accent. Bankole slid his tray of lunch across her table and sat across her. Stretching his hand, he said, “Hello. My name is Bankole. Yours?”
Taking his hand, Olive smiled and replied, “Olive. Olive Onitiri.”
Bankole let out a deep sigh. “Thank God! I was scared that you were not a JJC like me. But your accent tells me otherwise.”
“JJC?” Olive said amused
“So you’re not a JJC after all.” He rolled his eyes. “Did you do secondary here?”
“No…”
“And you don’t know what ‘JJC’ means?”
“Am I supposed to?” Olive said, chuckling.
“What secondary school did you attend?”
“BIS”
“No wonder! So you were in Nigeria but not of Nigeria.”
They both chuckled.
“So what does JJC mean?”
“Johnny Just Come. It basically means ‘newcomer’”
“Interesting,” Olive replied. “I’m a JJC then.”
Bankole chuckled, “Well, I came over to start a ranting party about this food. Is it just me, or is the asparagus spoiled?”
“I haven’t had a taste. Let me take a bite.” Olive took a bite and immediately grabbed her serviette and spat out the food. “What was that??” she asked, her eyes bulging
“Well, that, JJC, was the bad food they didn’t tell us about at the offer holders’ orientation.”
They both chuckled and talked about the culture shock they had experienced. Olive had to leave earlier because she had a group discussion, but they promised each other to keep ‘JJC’ as their ‘secret name’ and to say hi whenever they passed by each other in class.
“Do you remember that experience often?” Phebe asked Olive
“No, actually. We still call… well, we used to call each other JJC. I think the last time we actually called each other ‘JJC’ was 4 months ago, just before… you know. Anyway, I personally don’t remember the experience often, even when I call him JJC”
“And you, Bankole. Do you remember that experience often?”
“Funny you’d ask that. I thought about it earlier this week. I was at the office and had ordered some food from the cafeteria. Salad. Turned out one of the vegetables was going bad. Made me remember the spoiled asparagus event.” Bankole smiled slightly.
“And when you remembered it, how did it make you feel? What action did it make you want to take?”
“Well, to be honest, I picked up my phone almost without thinking. Olive and I used to have a rule in our marriage. It said, ‘whenever you remember a fond memory about me, create another fond memory with me’. And that usually involved us calling each other, sending gifts, planning for an impromptu date night or just doing something nice. So when I remembered, I instinctively wanted to pick up my phone and call her. Maybe tell her how glad I was that the asparagus was bad because it gave us an opportunity to share a joke; to have a conversation. And it was the beginning of something amazing. But then as I picked up the phone, something felt off about it and it was then I remembered that we were not on talking terms. That we had not been talking for 4 months, 3 days and 7 hours.”
Olive shifted in her seat.
“And how did that realisation make you feel?”
“Well”, Bankole stretched out his legs “It felt shitty, to say the least. It felt foreign even though it had gone on for long. It felt odd; felt like we were losing control over our lives. I personally felt like I was wasting my time – working hard at the office for what? Money? When the centre of my life was falling apart.”
A sniffle escaped from Olive.
Phebe smiled sadly. “That was quite expressive, Bankole. Well done. Olive, how did what he just said make you feel?”
Olive was silent for a while. Phebe scribbled in her notepad and then looked back up. As she was about to nudge Olive to share again, Bankole cut in, “I think she might need a breather. Sometimes, she gets really overwhelmed with a moment, and she typically can’t express herself.”
“Not a problem. The 30-minute session is almost over anyway. So we can wrap up here. Just a quick assignment before our next meeting. A significant part of your meeting was over a meal. Somehow, you guys bonded over that. So, I want you to go on a date this weekend. Find a time that works for both of you. I know you both haven’t been speaking. But you are here now, so I’m guessing you want that to change. You are going to have to speak on this date. Let it be a well-thought-out date. Bankole, I want you to take the lead on this.” Bankole nodded, and Phebe continued, “But what happens on the date is more important than where the date is held. I want you guys to talk to each other. Mainly about what you love about each other. Please try not to talk about the issue at hand. I’ll email you guys a series of questions, but feel free to simply use them as primers. Allow the conversation to flow freely. It can ebb away from the listed questions, but make sure it stays within the confines of expressing love for each other. Even if you feel like you don’t love each other anymore, at least you once did. So you can talk about the love you had. Clear?”
They both nodded. Bankole waited for Olive to stand up, and then he followed behind.
“Bye, Phebe”, they both said as they walked out the door.
Bankole sat on the edge of the bed as he put on his shoes. They were his favourite; Olive had bought them for him for his 30th birthday. He could hear her from the adjoining room taking a bath. Olive, always behind schedule. Their date was for 6:00 pm, and this was already 5:50 pm. She was only just taking her bath.
He lay back in bed and closed his eyes. Imagining her in the bathroom. He could see her, his wife of 5 years. Starting with her facial routine then brushing her teeth with her pink and white toothbrush. He could smell her soap; it’s the same soap she’s used since they met. She was a creature of habit; the only adventurous things she did were because she loved him. The bungee jumping on their honeymoon. The daringly huge investment in a now-unicorn tech startup. Even the IVF tries. All his ideas.
She had come out of the shower now. He knew because he heard the Air Conditioner come on. 6 months after they got married, he had walked into their room and seen her crying one Sunday morning as they were preparing to go to church. When he asked her what was wrong, she broke down and just continued crying. When she was finally okay to speak, she said, “I’m going to sound like a complete spoiled brat when I tell you what it is, but just know that I’m still that JJC you met at Tyne.”
He rubbed her back and said, “Go on, love”
“Before we got married, I had never gotten dressed without Air Conditioning. I don’t know how to do it. But since we got married, we’ve had moments without electricity, and I told myself, “O, you can do this. You’re no longer in your father’s house. This is your home now. Work with what you can afford. You’re not spoiled”. But I’m so frustrated. I’m sweating and trying to use all my products at the same time. It’s not working. And I think today, because we’re already late for church, I’m under a lot more tension. I’m rushing, trying to use all my products and sweating extra.” She burst into tears again. “I’m so sorry, babe. I don’t mean to put any pressure on you. Heck, I’m also as responsible for this house”
He had hugged tightly and stayed that way for a while. Then he said in the firmest and yet most gentle voice, “O, I swore to take care of you; before God and in the presence of our friends and family. I’m responsible for your well-being, and I plan not to slack at all. Remember that part of my wedding vows? I am your…”
“…sponsor and sugar daddy. Bill me!” they both echoed and laughed.
“Exactly. The only reason you don’t have AC when you dress up is because I didn’t know it was a thing for you. Please, tell me more of these things. Remember, even though we’ve been friends since forever, we’re now married and we are getting to know each other. So let me know these things. Okay?”
That was 5 years ago. How did they get here? As he sank deeper in thought, he heard Olive knock softly on his room door.
He got up and looked in the mirror. Shaking his head and picking up his wallet, he called out, “I’m coming, love”
It was the first time they had addressed each other directly in 4 months.
“Hi.” Bankole whispered, leaning forward and staring softly at Olive across the table. The dark backdrop afforded by the night, coupled with the ambient glow from the artificial table lantern, made her the quiet yet striking focus. Bankole felt a light shiver up his arms, but he knew it was not the evening breeze. He had become familiar with that same shiver ever since he met Olive; it was just his body’s acknowledgement of her consuming beauty. The waiter had just taken their order, and they were left to themselves.
“Hi”, Olive replied, holding his gaze.
“You look beautiful. As always”
She suppressed a smile and looked down, faltering, “Thank you. So do you.”
“Beautiful?”
“You know what I mean…”
Silence.
“I was trying to lighten the atmosphere, O”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I’m trying, O. I really want us to be fine again. I hope you know that I mean it everytime I say that I’m sorry for -“
“Phebe said we shouldn’t talk about the past. Do you have the questions she sent?”
“Sure.” Bankole brought out his phone and scrolled for a while before clearing his throat. “Okay. Do you want us to start now or wait till they bring the food?”
“We can start now.”
“Okay. The first question says: “Tell me everything you remember about our first kiss”
Olive couldn’t help the smile that played across her lips. It was an unexpected question that evoked fond memories. Looking up at Bankole, she could see him smiling too.
“I knew you’d smile”, he said
“You too,” she playfully slapped his hand with her napkin
“Okay. I’m all ears,” he had his chin on his palms and his elbows on the table
“The first thing I remember about our first kiss was that I had dreamt about it the night before. In the dream, you had run up to me like in the movies. It was raining. And you said, ‘I couldn’t wait to do this.’ And you grabbed my face and plastered a wet kiss on my lips. I woke up thinking, ‘he better have a better idea than this’”
They both laughed.
“Well,” she continued, “When we saw that day, I felt like there was a different energy between us. I mean, we had dated for about 6 months and had not yet kissed. That was really strange, especially for the environment we were in. But I really appreciated that we talked about taking things really slow. I remember you said, “I would never get physically intimate with you until we get married” It was really nice to know that I was with someone who respected me and had the same values as I did. But I think the more we hung out and progressed in the relationship, the crazier the chemistry. So even though it was unspoken, I sort of knew that we’d probably steal a kiss. And so when I saw you that day and I felt what I felt, I knew it was that day”
Bankole was nodding, “Yeah. That day was definitely the day. I had spent the entire train ride to you thinking about how much I loved you and how insane it was that you were my girlfriend. Olive Onitiri herself. The girl of every girl’s dream and every man’s fantasy. Woman extraordinaire. A star girl – “
“See who is talking.” Olive cut it. “Don’t even start because if we want to give accolades and awards, there won’t be space in our room to hold everything-”
It was as though they were back to normal. They were best friends again; laughing, chatting and remembering fond memories. But when Olive had mentioned ‘our room’, it was a rude shock and they returned to the reality that it was no longer their room. That Bankole had been living in the second room upstairs and Olive, in the master bedroom, for 4 months.
Silence enveloped them as they both anti-climaxed from the excitement of what they used to share.
After a few minutes, Bankole said, “Well, that was the best first kiss in the history of first kisses. When I held you in the middle of the stadium that night, still reeling from the euphoria of our team winning, I knew that I’d want to do forever with you.” He rested his back on his wooden chair. “Forever”, he said, barely above a whisper
“Yeah. It was an amazing kiss. You had game.”
“Do you remember my pre-kiss speech?”
“Of course” Olive chuckled, “You said, ‘I brought you out here to do this because I couldn’t think of anyone else to witness our first kiss, but your co-stars.’ I had said, ‘my co-stars?’ and you had looked up to the sky and said, ‘Yeah. Them. All the stars that shine for and with you’. I had looked up to the stars and somehow the wind cooperated, just hitting me with that really nice evening cool. And when I looked back at you, there was no distance between our faces, and I could smell the blueberry mint gum on your breath when you said, “Can I kiss you, star girl?”
Bankole smiled sadly as he sat in the sadness and silence that lingered between them.
The waiter brought their drinks and meal, and as they dined, they barely spoke to each other again. At the end of the night, when the bill came in, both Olive and Bankole brought out their cards. The waiter collected Bankole’s card and was about to leave when Olive called him back. “I’m sorry. Did you see me handing my card to you?”
“Oh sorry, madam. Are you splitting the bill 50-50?”
“Yes”
“No”
Bankole looked at Olive and repeated to the waiter, “No. You can use my card, please.”
“And mine too,” Olive said, “Split it 50-50”
“Olive, please”
“I just want to pay for what I ate. What’s the crime in that?”
“I took you on this date – “
“Nope. Phebe said we should go on a date”
“And Phebe said I should lead on it.”
“Yeah, maybe for the choice of restaurant. Maybe for asking the questions she sent. I’m not sure she was thinking of the bill when she gave her instruction”
“Are we going to quarrel over this?”
The waiter shifted uncomfortably on his feet.
“I’m not quarrelling. Why is my calm insistence on paying for my food being interpreted as quarrelling?”
“I didn’t say you’re quarrelling. I asked if we were going to quarrel about this. I wasn’t accusing you”
“Your tone and body language said otherwise.”
Bankole paused. “Olive, please let me pay for this”
“No. I insist, please.”
Bankole rested his back on his chair and reluctantly nodded at the waiter who went ahead to collect Olive’s card and withdrew the payment 50-50 after which they gathered their bag and wallet and left the restaurant sullen.
“So”, Phebe said with excitement, “How was the date?”
This time, Olive and Bankole were seated at an even more extreme distance from each other on the black couch. Both looked uninterested and bored.
“C’mon. Someone has to talk to me. Olive?”
“It didn’t go well.”
“Can you say more?” Phebe asked
“Well, Banky insisted that I was being quarrelsome because I wanted to pay for my own food”
“Do you typically pay for your own food on dates between both of you?”
“Not typically. We pay from our joint account for our dates. Unless the date is impromptu or a surprise, then the person throwing the surprise foots the bill.”
“So what happened to the joint account?”
“We- I closed it when our issues started”
“Hence the dilemma on who to pay…”
“Yeah”
“Why were you averse to him paying for the meal? After all, he was supposed to take the lead on the date.”
“Well, I didn’t interpret it as him also taking the lead on paying. Plus, is it a crime to want to pay for your own meal?”
“You’re getting defensive, Olive. Remember what we agreed when we first started? We agreed that we would not assume intentions; that this was a safe space and everyone was free to be honest without fear of being met with resistance. Remember?”
“Yes.”
“So, talk to me again. Why really were you averse to him paying for your meal?”
Olive was quiet as she brooded over the question. She took a deep breath and reminded herself why she was at this therapy session. She needed help. Her marriage to her best friend needed help. Best friend. The guy she was seething over was her best friend.
“Okay. You are right that I am being defensive. Because my reason was not logical, as much as I wanted it to be. I was being very emotional.” Tears were already rolling down her face. “So, the real reason why I didn’t want him to pay for the meal was because I still feel hurt over what started all of this. And especially because it involved money, I just did not want to be a part of… anything financial with him. I did not want to take his money when he had shown me that he didn’t trust me enough with his finances.”
“Hmmm….” Phebe said. “Before we get into that, Bankole, can you talk to Olive, address the emotion she’s feeling?”
Bankole sniffled and wiped a tear on his face. Standing up, he walked to her side of the couch and crouched before her. He tried to hold her hand, but she resisted.
“Olive. Again and again and again, I am sorry. Was I wrong? Yes. Am I ashamed? Yes. Will I ever try such again? Never. If I could tear open my heart, you would see it bleeding. You would see how it cowers in shame every time it remembers what I did to you. Please, I am sorry. And all I’ve been trying to ask you is this: tell me, what can I do? What should I do? To make it right with you?”
Olive sobbed. Letting her hand hang loosely beside her, she said, “Banky, it’s not about what you can do but what you have done. I’ve said this over and over again, even if I tried to forgive you – which I have – I’m not able to trust you again.”
“If I may cut in here,” Phebe said, “I love that you guys are expressing your feelings, and that’s amazing, but let’s take this one step at a time. Bankole, you can give Olive a hug if she’s okay with it and return to your seat, please.”
Bankole made to hug Olive, and she welcomed it. As they hugged, they sniffled softly. Returning to his seat, Bankole sat closer to Olive. Phebe watched as Olive unconsciously moved her bag to the other side to make room for him.
Clearing her throat, Phebe started, “When couples get married, there is almost no doubt of their love. They can feel it in every fibre of their being; they just know that they are meant to be together, forever. But what many couples don’t know is that love is not just a feeling or something that happens to us. No. Love is a continuous commitment, even when there are no feelings. Love is the work we put into making our relationships work. It is the effort we take to always set our hearts on fire for each other no matter how cold it gets around us. So even if the ‘spark is gone’, as they say, love is deciding to reignite it. And for you guys right now, love is forgiveness. It is transparency – both to say, ‘I did this. I am sorry,’ and to say, ‘I want to forgive you, but I’m struggling.’ Olive, there’s nothing wrong with struggling to forgive, but there’s also nothing wrong with overcoming that struggle.” Phebe paused. “Before we go fully into unpacking all that happened 4 months ago, let’s go down memory lane one more time. Let’s go to the fun memory, remembering why we love each other. Before we talk about why we don’t want to see eye to eye again. Good?”
They both nodded.
“Great. So, Olive, I want you to tell me about how your friendship blossomed from just saying ‘Hi’ and “JJC’ to each other in the hallway, to dating. How did that happen?”
Professor Morris had a thing for infusing even more creativity into his “Unlocking Imagination” course, and this was exactly why Olive never missed any of his classes. She was studying Creative Writing precisely for this; to channel all her creative juices into producing books and plays that people would enjoy, and she was mildly obsessed with the human imagination.
In the first class with Professor Morris, she had raised her hand when he asked if anyone had any further comments.“Sir,” she said eagerly, “I would like to pose a theory I have been toying around with: that the imagination is infinitely limitless and only bound by the experiences; direct or indirect, of its owner”
Professor Morris had asked her jokingly if she wanted to be quoted in his upcoming textbook as a ‘budding Pulitzer winner and writing philosopher’ and had complimented her on her enthusiasm.
Bankole, on the other hand, was barely interested in that particular class. He thought it was too removed from reality and did not leave any room for the real kind of imagination. During one of the classes, Professor Morris caught him rolling his eyes and asked him what he thought of everything that was being taught.
“Well, to be honest, I cannot relate to any of this because I think it’s all too forced.”, he remarked. “For instance, you say that as creative writers, we should never be caught dead using the phrase, “I cannot imagine”, but there are at least 5 top charting songs with the same phrase in the body of their lyrics. Were those songs not creatively written? Additionally, I think that in a bid to seem imaginative, we’ve shunned reality when the events of reality have such a valid place in our imaginations. The way many of us are carrying on with this class, we may produce highly unrelatable pieces as term papers. And I won’t be caught pants down doing anything unoriginal or unauthentic”
Professor Morris had smiled and replied, “Well, you imagine that there is no world outside of the bounds of your own imagination, that’s why you call it unrelatable. What you call unrealistic is someone else’s reality. And what this class aims at is to get you out of your ‘reality’ into another. And of course, it’ll seem forced and unrealistic, but it’s a sign that you’re beginning to think outside of your comfort zone.”
Needless to say that Olive was aghast by his contribution. For the life of her, she had never regarded the course content with anything but awe and wonder. So when Professor Morris did a randomiser for their pairing activities, and she was matched with Bankole, she revolted. She talked to the Professor about it, but of course, he told her that they’ll be just fine.
The first assignment each pair was supposed to come up with was a jointly written letter from a drug dealer to his mule. To put it gently, their writing process and eventual result were chaotic. First, they could not decide how to go about writing the letter jointly. Bankole was of the opinion that, as much as it was a joint assignment, they needed to do some independent thinking, so discussing an overarching flow of the letter would defeat the purpose. Olive, on the other hand, was of the opinion that even though it was practically a letter written by two people, the voice was supposed to be a singular voice; from the fictional drug dealer. They could not really agree on what to do, so they eventually wrote half a page each and just joined them together and submitted. An excerpt from the letter (containing the tail end of Olive’s part and the beginning of Bankole’s part) reads:
[Olive’s portion] “Like I said earlier, I would not be doing this if I did not have a target on my back and a mandate to sell these wraps before Christmas. I would say, ‘see you another time’, but I meant it when I said that this is my last time pushing these horrible drugs. I wish you the very best at Immigration.
[Bankole’s portion] You don’t know me. Read this out loud to yourself in the mirror, “I don’t know Deadly”. So if you don’t know me, I don’t know why I’m writing this letter to you. However, if I were to risk getting caught to tell you one thing, it would be this: if you find someone else to work with and double-cross me, I’ll feed you your tongue to eat. Literally”
When Olive read the letters compiled, she simply titled it “The Dual-Personality Dealer” and submitted it. Professor Morris had a good laugh and applauded them for at least trying. He explained that this was common in first pair assignments and that they were going to get better with time. Olive doubted. Bankole rolled his eyes.
But Professor Morris was right. It was because of these pair assignments that they grew closer as friends and indeed fell in love. The more they wrote together, the more they knew each other, understood how the other person viewed life. Olive started laughing at his jokes and sarcasm, and he applauded the altruism that shone through her writing. They even hacked their flow and were winning ‘Best Pair’ almost every week. They found a new system to work together and had an abundance of inside jokes. Their relationship extended to other courses; they became seat partners, homework partners, research partners, study partners, lunch partners, party partners and even grade partners. They were doing so much better in life as partners, and they each knew that they had found each other for a relationship that would span a lifetime.
When asked how Bankole asked her out, Olive typically says “He didn’t”. And when asked if she did instead, she says, “I didn’t as well”
They started dating after their last pair assignment. Professor Morris had instructed them to write about their pair relationship as their final assignment. Olive and Bankole had agreed to submit a poem with a twist. To buttress their growth and synergy, they agreed to write a 12-line poem. 6 lines per person. But Olive would write the first line, then Bankole would supply the second. Olive will supply the third, and Bankole would supply the fourth. And so on, until the 12th.
Here was their submission:
Dear Professor Morris
There are some things better left unsaid, but
Is it okay to say
Other things which cannot but be said
That you must seriously consider a career
Lest you waste your life and time
In matchmaking
Building strong relationships – with the wrong people
For I have fallen in love
So I’ll say here and now that I am
With the most amazing partner in the world
Happy to continue with you – paired forever. Maybe with a ring to show someday
After they arranged their poem, they went out on a date, and Olive said, “My poem was clear, right?” And Bankole said, “And mine, clear too?” And they had laughed and clinked their glasses”
“Cheers to being paired forever,”Bankole said
“With more than a ring to show someday”, Olive had replied.
“Wow. Can I just say that you guys are nerds?” Phebe said as Bankole rounded up the story. He and Olive chuckled heartily.
“But also, how cute and lovely are you guys! How did hearing that story make you feel, Olive?”
“That was a really happy memory actually. And -” She paused, “It actually made me start thinking of why we’re in this position. Like, we were actually that couple that finished each other’s sentences. That’s how close we used to be.” Sighing, she continued, “I don’t like where we are”
“And that’s a great place to pivot into talking about what actually happened; what got you here where you are. Olive?”
“Well, it’s actually a simple story. It just has intricate implications”
Phebe let out a ‘Hmmm’ as she scribbled in her notes.
Olive continued. “Banky and I have never ever never ever hidden anything from each other. Well, at least, I have never hidden anything from him. Name it, embarrassing things, cringeworthy things. In fact, when we first got married, I had a brief moment when I fantasised about some guy in the office. I came home to report myself to Banky because that’s just what we do. My philosophy is that we are one. So there’s nothing I should not be able to share with him. Of course, we knew we won’t always agree. But at least, we were aware of where we stood on different issues. Before our wedding, I had read an article that said money was the number 1 biggest thing that married couples fight about. I remember sending the article to Banky because I could relate to it; my parents are divorced and it all started with money issues. Someone was making more than the other person and was not at all gracious about it. So growing up, I had seen, first-hand, how true it was that money was a big deal in marriage. I sent that article link to Banky and remember writing a little message that said, “Let us be everything opposite of what this article says. One mind. Even for money”. Now, I feel so foolish thinking that I believed him when he replied, “You bet!”
Bankole shifted in his seat.
‘Don’t worry, Bankole, you’ll get to talk soon”, Phebe said “Olive, please continue?”
“Anyway, 5 months ago, in October, we were talking to my friend’s boyfriend – our mutual friend – who works at Heritage Bank, and he just said casually. “Banky, did you receive the email on the change of directors in the bank?” Apparently they had sent a mail notifying their customers about the change of directors so this guy wanted to use that as a context to give some inside scoop to us. Me, stupidly, I said, “Why would Banky receive an email from your bank. Does he have an account with you guys?” The guy did not even have to say anything because the look on his face told me all that I needed to know. But somehow, I did not believe because, like I said, we never hide anything from each other.” Olive paused and shook her head. “I turned to Banky and was like, ‘Babe, you have an account with Heritage Bank?’. And then he nodded and said, ‘I’ll gist you about it later’ I’ll be honest that I wasn’t even angry at that time. I thought he just opened an account with them because our friend asked him to, and he obviously did not want to say that in front of the friend. I did not even think he was maintaining the account. Anyway, I just said, ‘Okay.’ I think I even made a joke that, ‘These are the problems of a wealthy man; too many bank accounts that I can’t keep track of’. Just to put up a good front for our friend”
“And so what did you find out when he finally told you about the account?” Phebe asked
“Well, it turned out that it was an account that was being maintained regularly. After our friend left, Banky locked the door and said I should come to the dining table because he needed to tell me something. Nothing could have prepared me for what I was hearing him say. He said that he wanted to beg for my forgiveness. That, actually, his spirit had been troubled because he was hiding this account from me. That he did not do it with the intent to cause isolation between us. That he only did it because he was confused and unsure about how I’d react to it. That also, he had planned to tell me just weeks after opening the account, but somehow, he could not bring it up.” She cleared her throat and stared at the rug beneath her feet for a few seconds before continuing. “So apparently, a year before this confession, he had opened an account solely to service the upkeep of his older sister and her family. Now, a bit of back story is necessary. This older sister and I are not on good terms. We’re not fighting (although I may have good reason to pick a fight with her) but Banky and I had agreed as a couple to leave her to her devices. Why? Because she did and said unspeakable things to me. She told me that I was infertile; that she was sure that the problem of childlessness we had could definitely never be from her brother because infertility seems to run in my family. Whenever I went for their family gatherings, she would openly ask me, ‘When last did you ovulate? Or do you ovulate at all?’ Nah, I don’t even want to use my therapy sessions to rehash the vile things this woman said and did to me. Banky would stand up for me whenever it happened, but she was foul-mouthed, and he could never really match her insults. So we’d usually excuse ourselves from her presence. On one of those days, I was so emotionally abused that I told Banky that I did not want to have anything to do with her again. That I forgive her, but I did not think it was healthy for me to keep presenting myself to her for abuse, especially because I was already struggling with staying strong on our conception journey. I needed positive people and words around me. I even told Banky that I wouldn’t mind if he continued to see her and hang around her; that I understood that she was his sister and that they share that sibling bond. And I meant it”
“What did Banky say to that?”
“He agreed. He even apologised that he wasn’t the one who came up with the idea, that he was supposed to protect me proactively. He said that he would also distance himself from her. That he was building a family with me and that if there was a conflict between his extended family and ours, then he was definitely taking my side. He categorically told me that he would only relate with her on a casual basis and a need-to level. I remember him saying, “I don’t regard anyone my sister who won’t love my wife. Then she doesn’t love me.” Olive paused to catch her breath
“So, how is it for this same sister you open an account and money that belongs to our family is being diverted to her? Secretly? I don’t know, but I really just felt like an outsider in my own home. And do you know the craziest thing? If only he had told me that her family was going through a tough time, I would have agreed to give her a monthly stipend. Because again, I am not a witch. I would not be in my house, eating and drinking, when I know that someone with close proximity to us can barely feed. Like that’s Human 101. So basic. That’s why apart from the fact that I felt betrayed, I also felt insulted.”
“And you have not been able to bring yourself to the point of talking through it with him?”
“No. Because I feel that he’s only sorry because he was caught. What if our friend didn’t show up that day? When would he have told me?”
“I’m sorry, Olive” Bankole said. “I know I say sorry all the time, but I don’t know if I’ll ever say it enough.” Looking at Phebe, he said, “She rendered the story accurately. There’s just one more thing I’d like to add.” Phebe nodded
“The money in the account was not just mine. My other siblings were sending their contributions to the account, and I was disbursing it. So we were giving her N100,000 per month and I was contributing N50,000 out of the sum. But I know that that is not an excuse. Even if I was giving her N1/month, I should still have told you because we never ever hide anything from each other.”
Phebe looked at Olive, “Olive, I’ll take a leap here to guess what you’re thinking. Can I?”
“Sure”
“I think you have forgiven him, and you want him to know that. But you’re also scared that a forgiveness that is too easy might be interpreted as an encouragement to continue lying; that he may not know the full weight of what he’s done or truly understand the repercussions if you tell him you forgive him. Am I right?”
Olive nodded.
“Well, Olive, look at this man. Right from your first session with me and even our phone calls, he has begged for your forgiveness and swore that he was sorry. I’m not even saying that I can vouch that he’s sorry. So many people sit here in front of me and swear that they will never do what they did again, and then they go back to do the same things over and over again. But there are also people who are genuinely sorry; who make mistakes, because they are humans and not perfect. And that’s just the crazy thing about relationships; that love is simply based on trust – we trust that the other person loves us and that they are as committed to the relationship as we are. Or in this situation, we trust that they are indeed sorry and so we forgive them. And that’s an important aspect of love; forgiveness. Because we are imperfect people, trying our hands at something so pristine like love can be complicated. But who says that we have to be perfect at loving one another? I think we must do away with that burden to be perfect and guileless lovers, and instead, embrace the fact that we will make mistakes; that we may hurt each other or betray the trust reposed in one another. And to agree that irrespective of what happens, we must keep the wheels of our love moving. Yes, sometimes, we may pause to apply some grease on our rickety parts; those parts that make it hard to go on in love. And guess what that grease is? Forgiveness. Saying ‘I forgive you’ and saying it quickly. Saying ‘I forgive you’ and meaning it. That’s the only way the wheels of your love will keep moving; that’s the only path to rapid progress in love. You are in a marathon, not a sprint. In a marathon, if you fall down, you don’t stay down wallowing in your mistake because you’re in it for the long haul. So you get back up, dust yourself up and keep running. That would be my advice to you. Rather than staying stuck on his failure or on what you may also regard as your failure, you need to offer him a hand and when he gets up, you hug him. And when you’re done hugging, you hold each other’s hands and continue your marathon. Of course, there may still be a few pains here and there from when the fall happened, and you guys can walk through it together along the way. But whatever happens, make sure you keep the wheels moving. If someone has to push it while the other person pedals, then do it. If both of you have to bring in a third party to help you push it while you both pedal, like you’re doing now, then go ahead. But whatever you do, keep it moving. That’s the one thing I wish every couple who comes in here leaves with.”
When Phebe was done, the room was silent except for the gentle hum of the air conditioner. Finally, Olive spoke.
“JJC, I love you… more than I like to admit. So first, I also want to apologise. You are not perfect, just like I am not. We are two imperfect people who promised to love and forgive each other lavishly. I have not kept my end of the bargain; I have withheld forgiveness from you to the point of fault. I knew when I was supposed to let go of the hurt and embrace you. But I just kept convincing myself otherwise. Whether it was my pride or fear, I just know that it was not easy for me to let go. But right now, in front of Phebe, I forgive you. And I renew my vow to extend grace to you; to forgive you, to show you why I chose you over other people; to show you that I really love you. So help me God.”
By the time she was done, Bankole was a wreck. His head was buried in his hands for a while before he stood up, pulled Olive up and gave her the tightest hug, probably in the history of hugs. They stayed that way and whispered quietly to each other as they sobbed.
Finally, Bankole drew back and whispered, “Thank you.” Louder, he said, “O, you are the single most amazing woman I know, and I took that for granted; I broke your trust for no valid reason, although no valid reason actually exists for me to break it. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I clearly was not thinking right. Because if I were, I would have found it stupid to even contemplate hurting you. You have only been kind to me, loving me even more than you love yourself sometimes. I’m sorry that I betrayed you and went behind your back to give Nike and her family money. The day you found out was the last day I sent them money; I also told Daddy and Mommy that I wasn’t going to be collecting their donations again and that they were free to send them to her. I am sorry that I allowed negative thoughts cloud what I knew… and even still know about you. And I know that trust is like a mirror; that when it’s broken, it’s hard, almost impossible to put the pieces back together and make a whole. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I am hoping that that’s not true for us; that we can recklessly trust each other again, like we used to. But I’m also okay with spending my life proving to you that there are no fragments or compartments of my life from which you are shut out. That with you, I will be wholly, completely and unashamedly honest. I am okay with proving to you that the person you see in every fragment of that broken mirror is the same person who stands before you here. It’s me, JJC. It’s Banky, your boy, your guyest guy, your love, your best friend. I would never betray you again, O”
“Everyone, please gather together!” Luna said as she clinked her glass, “I’d like to give a toast!”
Smiling at her grey and old parents clad in matching adire outfits, Luna walked to the centre of the intimate party of 50 people gathered to celebrate her parents’ 50th anniversary.
“This one’s for you Mom and Dad.” she said barely starting her speech but already pooling tears in her eyes. “My mom always told me to give people their flowers while they’re here. So, in addition to living my everyday, showing my amazing parents how much I love them, I also just want to give this toast to them”
She raised her glass, and everyone raised theirs in unison
“To the best pair in the world, who prove publicly and privately that two hearts are better than one
To the world’s greatest parents, whose love for each other is so great that it spills over and overwhelms me
To the world’s most in-love couple, whose satisfaction and trust in each other are thoroughly unmatched
May they grow older together
May we grow to be like them
May their story end in the way of all true things – wonderfully, beautifully, and without ever truly ending.
Cheers!”
Olive and Bankole clinked their glasses, and for a moment, they both caught each other’s eyes and smiled. Olive raised her glass again and whispered, “To keeping the wheels moving,” and Bankole replied, “until the wheels fall off.” They clinked their glasses a second time and instead of taking a sip, they shared a long and passionate kiss.
I'd love to hear your thoughts!