In our home,
the biggest world you can never imagine, filled with so much to learn, so much
love, care and happiness.
Henry and I are
married wealthy couples and he is my best friend. I met Henry when I was 17
years old, but then guys were not my thing. All I was after was my talent
“writing”. I am a writer and back then I didn’t want to be a victim of my
stories. I was interested in Henry after our first contact during a conference
at University Of Lagos through Jasmine my friend. Jasmine is a very talented
speaker and a childhood friend to Henry. Henry has a very good personality,
fluent speech and *ooops* he loves reading novels. A tall handsome and well
built guy… I was glad I met him.
Henry and I
got talking after we met. We spoke at length, exchanged contacts and we became
close. Henry found me very exciting as he was interested in reading my stories,
he was the number one fan of all stories I wrote, and he gave me so much
courage to write more.
And one day after
he applauded my story “my brothers love”, he said he had a story to tell me, I
was excited to hear it.
He started;
Once upon a time…
“Baby I
promise to be a better man to always make you happy and never let you down”
Femi said
“Femi! Stop
all these promises! I have told you to be yourself, I love you for who you are”
Sharon replied
Femi has no
quality job, he worked as a plumber and earned thirty thousand naira at most in
a month and Sharon owns a restaurant earning two hundred and eighty five
thousand naira at least in a month in which her income is used to pay her
children’s fees.
Femi yet
loves surprising his wife with the little he had. While she goes to work he
would go out and buy her flowers, sometimes he would compose romantic letters
although he was not too good at spelling. He just wanted her to be happy.
On her
birthdays he would have saved a lot just to buy food stuff and prepare a nice
meal for her, her favorite “porridge and vegetable”. Femi hated porridge but it
was his favorite on her birthdays, he would eat it with so much passion like he
is a baby taking breast milk.
They-
I
interrupted…You mean her birthday gift was just a meal?
“That’s just
the way you see it” Henry said.
So he continued.
They were
never sad, even when school fees comes knocking or rent comes crying there was
always a plan B. To fulfill the important issues they both decide to go hungry.
Even in their hunger there was love.
They both
laughed at the cries of each other’s tummy. It was like a competition.
Sharon had
run out of food stock for the restaurant so she had to close it.
I
interrupted again… what kind of love? Love and suffering?
Who plays
with hunger?
“Our present
situation does not determine the end” Henry said.
There is
always a plan B!
Femi started
working for banks, firms, schools and other organizations. Helping them repair
their water closet, taps and basin. He was paid fifteen thousand naira for every
job he did, so he worked seven times a week at different places and earned a
hundred and five thousand a week.
He gave
Sharon eighty thousand naira every week to stock up her food stuff and her
business began to boom again. She applied for a cooking competition with a
reward of a duplex and a car although she had to pay a hundred and twenty
thousand naira to register.
She won the
competition and was known in all cooking schools and by restaurant owners
worldwide.
Femi was not
proud of himself…
I
interrupted again… she left him abi? It’s normal that is a woman for you.
“Would you
wait let me finish my story?” he said
“Okay, go
ahead” I replied
Of course
Sharon knows Femi too well to tell that he wasn’t happy with his status.
They both
moved into the new house.
While they
settled to sleep that night Sharon spoke; “Femi… do you want me to be happy?”
“Baby I
would anything for you” he smiled and said, while holding her close to himself
with a heavy heart filled with worries.
“Ok, I want
us to work together at the new restaurant” she said
“Baby-”
“Shhh that’s
all I want” she said as she kissed him good night.
He smiled
and whispered “wherever you are, is where I would rather be, I love you”
THE END.
I was
perplexed!
And Henry
told me everyone has a story to tell, that he might not be a writer but he is a
story teller and we laughed.
Each time I
remember this story I have a beam on my face, my name is Helen.
