FOLAKE: Work It Out

Still in London…

“I cannot fail in this. I cannot fail in this. I cannot fail in this.”

Curled up on the bed, I kept repeating this mantra to myself, muffling my cries with a pillow that still had traces of Dayo’s scent. The apartment was silent, breakfast forgotten. Dayo was gone. The warmth of the room that had started from our lovemaking last night no longer registered. My heart felt cold. My head was pounding in my ears, I couldn’t breathe without sobbing and I could feel the tightening beginnings of a headache. I wished for a second that wherever he had left to, he would be hit by a bus... or maybe he’d take the Underground and accidentally fall on the tracks as a train came whooshing through. Jaron’s song, “Pray for You”, came to mind and I chuckled amidst the tears. It was a song about praying evil things for an ex. Shaking my head, I tried to clear my morose thoughts. I felt weak and I detested that I felt this way even more.

I really wanted my marriage to work but it takes more than one to tango. I was too scared to even think about divorce. The chief would be disappointed after throwing money down for a lavish wedding. My mother, after all her fasting, prayers and vigils, would likely blame me for bringing shame to the family. I tried calling Dayo multiple times. I felt maybe I should apologize to him and try to keep the peace. Isn’t that what a wife does? He ignored all my calls and eventually switched off his phone and that’s when the rage began.

I got up, wiped my tears and smashed every breakable thing of his in sight; each crash released some of the pent up emotions in me. Was there something wrong in wanting to be with my husband and wanting him to be a good one? His clock went crashing down. Which gods did I offend such that they would bestow on me such a life; a life that I had given nothing but my best to. I smashed his favorite coffee mug. I took some of the cooking oil I’d just used from the kitchen into the bedroom. I brought out his best suits and splashed the oil all over them. I had forsaken all others; my body was his. Down went some of his framed accolades. Surprisingly, the landlady hadn’t come knocking.

My rampage continued. I was a great cook; the finger licking type. I was educated; I had the degrees to prove it. I was financially savvy; my accountant could vouch for that. What was it about me? Why couldn’t this man love me the way a man should love a woman? Why didn’t he want me? Well, there was no doubt he craved me sexually but apparently that’s where it stopped. Am I too strong willed? Too independent? Not beautiful enough? Maybe something was wrong with me. No! I countered that thought. There had to be something wrong with him! There had been many options out there but I was set on wanting my life to go a particular way and I had worked hard to orchestrate things the way I wanted. Well, I got what I wanted – I got Dayo but it wasn’t turning out well.

How dare he think that throwing the contract in my face was in any way an excuse for him to cover up an extramarital affair! First, I had to deal with the lie of the house he claimed he bought. Miraculously, the house he had supposedly paid for, which by the way I didn’t even like, had somehow seen the financing fall through. I took it in stride and continued looking for other options. Now there was this. His developing character was quite confusing. I’m certain that the so called friend who lost her partner was really code for his mistress and maybe her dog died or something. It was time to head back to Atlanta. He could come back and clean up his apartment, I thought with a smirk, looking around with smug satisfaction at the storm I had just created.

Back in Atlanta…

Jump! Jump! Jump!

The plyometrics instructor was in full form tonight. His deep baritone voice bounced off the gym walls, reverberating in increasing decibels through my ear drums. He was a retired military officer that had decided that his life’s mission was to get America in shape and today, that goal was focused on me and seven others. I think I was beginning to hate him. Luckily the class was coming to an end.

“Come on, Williams!” he barked at me. “One. Last. Jump.”

Mustering all that I had in me, my workout gear completely sweat drenched, I pulled deep from my core, and grunted as I made the last hurdle. This workout was quite intense and could be dangerous if not done properly. My assistant, Michelle, had recommended the class to me when I got back from London, feeling down and ten pounds heavier. Yoga didn’t seem to have its usual effect so, she advised me to do something a bit more aggressive. I was beginning to feel and see the results. Folake Williams was getting her sexy back!

The workouts gave me temporary reprieve from the sham that was my marriage. I had to decide if I wanted to save my marriage. I hadn’t really spoken to anyone about what occurred in England, not even to Dayo. I wasn’t interested in speaking to him for now. After the concert, seeing the reason my husband didn’t want me to move to England was a bit much to handle. Sure, I tried to play it cool, like I was in control but I truly wasn’t. I had to get a handle on the situation. The day after Dayo left the apartment, I reached out to a long time friend and fellow Skye Records employee that I knew could be discreet; made a few inquiries and got a few recommendations. I wanted Dayo tracked. I wanted to know every move he made when I wasn’t around and who exactly those moves were made with.

“Hey babe, you ready?”

I smiled up at Michael as he approached me. “Yes,” I replied, stepping in stride with him. He was holding his gym bag and a recently filled water bottle. Since the week that I’d been back from London, we’d grown closer and he’d become my gym partner. I hadn’t disclosed the whole situation with Dayo and he hadn’t probed either.

“I might need to take a break from this thing. It really works you out,” I grumbled good-naturedly. Already I knew I’d have to take a long soak in my tub; such were the protests my muscles were making.

“But, you look good.”

I smiled at the simple compliment, though I suspected he was just probably being kind. I grabbed the bottle of water from him as we talked about his workout routine and made our way out of the gym to his car.

Settled in the car, the sounds of the singer, Monica, sifting through the air, I thought about where I’d been and where I was. What did I really want out of this life? Out of my marriage? Leaning against the headrest, I closed my eyes as I thought back to my last sighting of Dayo, prior to leaving London.

Upset was an understatement. I thought marrying a Nigerian man with potential would add to the symphonic melody of the life I was trying to create. I relived the day he left: the night before, the dinner, our love making, our whispered sweet nothings as dawn broke and the aftermath of my anger the next day. Wrecking havoc in his apartment actually felt good. He actually tried to call me on my way back to Atlanta. What for? I ignored him like he did me in the two days I had tried to reach him and sent him a text message that I was leaving. The nerve of him to ask me to wait for him! Clearly, I did no such thing. With the wheels set in motion for tracking Dayo, I found out about his lady friend. Her name was Titi and I had all her information. I knew where she lived, worked and even the plate number to the car she drove. As a bonus, I had received a list of her known acquaintances and wasn’t too surprised to see the newest member of Skye Records listed. That my new act, Dolapo, was liaising with the enemy somehow magnified Dayo’s betrayal. Part of me wanted to make some quick calls and get rid of Dolapo, ensuring she was blacklisted everywhere. The business part of me knew there was much to be gained financially if I kept her around. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t know what to do. Oh God!

“Folly, are you all right?”

I didn’t realize I had broken out from my internal musings. “No, Michael.” I turned to look at him, “I’m all wrong, I think.” I took a deep breath and let it out quickly. “Am I a bad person? As a woman, do you think I’m unworthy?”

He took his eyes briefly from the road and reached out with his right hand to cup my cheek. “You’re the most worthy woman I know,” he said in a hoarse tone. “No pity party, okay?” Eyes back on the road, he managed to pull me as close to him as the seatbelt and middle console of the car would allow. Monica’s song, “Get Away”, came on as Michael made the exit that would lead to my house. I connected with the words with a wry smile.

“Come home with me today, Folly,” Michael suggested as he walked me to my door. “I know you’ve been through the mill in the past couple of weeks.” His voice seemed suggestive to me.

“Um, Michael I…” Indecision was stamped on my forehead. I could feel the undercurrents between us. Putting myself in a compromising situation when I’m still trying to deal with another didn’t seem ideal, no matter how tempting. I tried to recall my wedding vows.

“Nothing will happen,” he promised raising one of his hands. “I just think you need a friend today and if nothing else, I am that friend. And you’re supposed to be happy girl, with all those released endorphins flowing through your body,” he teased, tickling me lightly in my ribs.

Giving him a side glance, we both laughed as we entered my foyer. “I sure do need a friend. Let me freshen up.”

He took a seat in the living room, on one of my newly purchased red arm chairs and took charge of the remote control for the TV. I just knew he was about to tune into ESPN; he was a sport fanatic. The few times Dayo had visited, I’d tried to get them to hang out together but Dayo was wary of other men and with the history I had with Michael, I knew hanging with my husband may not have been too comfortable. I’d mentioned Michael a couple of times in passing but I knew that Dayo thought nothing of it. Because of Dayo’s need to have me all to himself during his sporadic trips, they had never met, not even once in passing and although I had once contemplated it, I’m glad that it hadn’t happened.

“So how’s your new act from the concert holding up?” Michael asked, as I started to make my way to my room. I was so happy that he’d been able to come to London and support me. He was such a good friend. He’d left soon after the concert so he wasn’t there for the Dayo fiasco.

“Well, we’ll have to see how it goes. She needs a lot of fine tuning.” In addition to her being friends with my husband’s mistress, I’d been hearing some not so good news about the quality of her work. A rumor had even reached my ears that she’d slept with one of the Skye Records employees. I certainly hoped it wasn’t who I thought it was. But I would soon confirm that. If she thought she could sleep her way to the top, she had another think coming.

Just then my house phone rang.

“Folake Williams,” I answered in my usual crisp way.

“Hello, Ms. Williams.” It was the person I’d hired in England to keep an eye on things. “I tried to reach you on your mobile but there was no response.”

“I just came back from the gym. I don’t take my phone with me. Is everything okay? How’s the special project going?” I walked into my bedroom and shut the door to grant me some privacy from Michael. The special project was all about tracking Dayo and his mistress and I didn’t necessarily want Michael to be in the know. “Do you have anything of importance to relay?” I peeled off my clothes as I started speaking with him to prepare for a hot shower. Since I’d be going back with Michael, there was simply no need and no time for the soak I wanted.

“Nothing of importance. Just that the lady friend you wanted me to track, she’s got a friend who recently passed away. Your husband has been back and forth with her ever since.”

Hmmm. Someone dying meant there was going to be a funeral. My mind kicked into drive.

“What’s the friend’s name that died?”

“Maureen Osagie.” I mentally ran down the list of acquaintances that he’d sent me previously. I remember seeing that name. I didn’t care about her. She wasn’t of any significance to me. “Do you know what the funeral arrangements are?” I turned on the shower to get the water temperature just right.

“I can find out and email you the information.”

“No,” I said quickly. “No email. Just call me when you have the information.” I disconnected the call and stepped into the shower. Lathering up, I thought about my delinquent husband. So he was busy doing what exactly with his mistress? Consoling her? Showering her with attention? With his body I bet! My blood was boiling; with Michael out waiting for me, it made me think things, indecent things… made me want to do things just to pay him back. My mind kicked into overdrive as I concentrated on finishing up quickly. I couldn’t guarantee that Michael’s promise would be holding up.

Going back to London…

I was able to garner a few bits and pieces about the life of Maureen. She was a fashion enthusiast. There was word that there might be a show to display some of her fashion collections soon after her funeral. In different circumstances she could have easily been a friend and the show would’ve been one I’d have considered. Oh well! She wasn’t a friend. She was dead and her friend was trying to steal my husband. I’m sure Dayo’s mistress would be there and where she was, he certainly had to be as well. I thought I’d go pay my condolences.

Calling for Delta Flight Ten leaving for London Heathrow. Now boarding. Please ensure you have your boarding pass and passports out. We’ll be boarding zone one first.

Seated at the gate, I was dressed in a modest pinstriped navy suit and looked like any other business traveler. But I was on a mission. I picked up my hand luggage and purse and proceeded to board the plane.

The day of the funeral started out gloomy; the skies were grey and were accompanied by an intermittent drizzle. Dressed in a knee-length black wrap dress and a wide-brimmed hat to match, I was one of the last few to arrive. Taking a seat towards the back of the church behind some other mourners, I looked towards the front and saw the back of my husband’s head. He was seated right behind a row of some ladies. I think one of them was Dolapo. I took a closer look. One of the ladies got up and walked towards the front to speak a few words. It was her; his mistress, Titi. I’d been wearing my Ed Hardy sunglasses but I took it off now and stared at her intensely, willing for her to look my way.

She started speaking and then caught sight of me. I smiled at her and nodded. I could tell that it threw her off as she faltered through the rest of her words. Some people tried to look back to see who or what was causing the distraction but I was strategically positioned and as such, they couldn’t really see me. Glancing periodically my way, she managed to get through her tribute and as she returned to her seat on shaky legs, I discreetly made my exit. I think I had made enough impact for the day.

Or had I? Walking out, I caught sight of Dayo’s car. I looked around to see if I could see Titi’s car. I saw it a few a feet behind Dayo’s. So I did what any wronged woman would do. Ensuring there was no one watching, I took out the Swiss Army knife that I always carried with me and managed to make gashes on two tires each. I made it as close to the rims as possible so no one would easily guess what had happened. Oh sure, they’d probably figure it out by the time they tried to fix the tires. I had thought to do just one, but with my adrenalin pumping, two seemed like so much fun. I’d never done anything so brazen. God forgive me!

The sun was out now. An omen maybe? I guess the day wasn’t so gloomy after all. I walked off briskly with a smile.

© Diamondhawk

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WEB BONUS: Folake's Playlist