FOLAKE: Broken-Hearted Girl

“Sweetheart.”

My eyes fluttered open, annoyed at the hands that were shaking me awake. Assaulted immediately by the brightness of the room, I burrowed further into my duvet, covering my head in the process.

It had been a peculiar couple of weeks. I was in a weird place, where nothing else existed but my forlorn feelings. I questioned myself as a woman, which led to questioning my place and my status in everything else. Some would call it depression. The chief was getting worried. I typically speak to my father every other day but now he’d been the one doing the calling. Lately, I’d been feeling lethargic and no matter how I tried to shake off the feelings, they wouldn’t budge.

I had completed my transfer to London. My new position allowed the flexibility of working in both continents and on Michael’s advice, I wasn’t going to put up my house in Atlanta for sale just yet. It would serve me well when I had to return. I had someone who went in every other week to clean it so I was assured that it would stay fresh and clean. I was two weeks away from signing a lease for a flat in London but until then, I was staying at the same hotel at the expense of my company. I’d upgraded to a two bedroom suite to accommodate Michael. Since the Dayo incident over a month ago, Michael had been my one true companion. He’d refused to leave my side. I was lucky that he could work from anywhere in the world as long as he had a laptop and internet service. I had become almost a recluse. All I did was go to work, and come back to the hotel room, forgoing most social events.

“Awww, come on Folly. It’s time to get your day started. Don’t you have a lunch date with someone today?” Michael pulled the covers off me. “I brought you some croissants and apple juice.” His voice trailed away as he made his way into the en suite bathroom. He must have just had his shower because I could see droplets of water in his hair and he still had a towel slung low on his hips. I heard the rush of water.

“Apple juice makes me gassy.” I sat up pouting and crossed my arms in defiance. I looked at the digital reading of my bedside clock. I should have woken up half an hour ago.

I got up, still feeling sluggish, and went to the table where he’d laid the goodies and immediately dived into it, slurping up all the apple juice. I went to the bathroom where Michael had gotten my bath started and began to get prepared. Michael took his leave with a promise that he’d be back later to take me out for dinner. He had some family members in St. Albans that he’d promised a visit. I, on the other hand, planned to meet up with Dolapo in about an hour. I wanted to catch up on her progress and give her some of my input in a relaxed atmosphere. I’d chosen for us to meet at a quaint bistro that was known for its desserts. I wanted some cheesecake and they served the best.

* * * * *

“Hello, Dolapo!” I sang out cheerfully amid the buzz of conversation in the crowded bistro. “Hope you found this place easily.” She took her seat opposite me. “What would you like to drink?” I asked motioning for a waiter.

“A cup of tea, please, Earl Grey. And a glass of tap water.” She shrugged out of her jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. “I’m sorry I’m late. I was making such progress today in the studio and forgot the time. Kene dropped me off so that I wouldn’t be too late.”

My eyes narrowed at the mention of Kene’s name. I really was going to have to keep an eye on the two of them. Add that to the host of other things on my to-do list. Will life ever get easier?

We ordered our food and delved right in, talking shop between bites. Soon my mind wandered as I took in the opulent décor of our surroundings. I watched as the waiters synchronized their way around tables and tapped my foot to the rhythm of the live jazz band that was serenading the bistro’s patrons. Perhaps I could speak to the manager of the establishment to see if we could book a gig for Dolapo here on a Friday evening. I forced my attention back to her as the waiter came to clear our table and take our dessert order. I convinced her to try their cheesecake. She ordered hers plain and I got mine drizzled with caramel and served with chocolate dipped strawberries.

My senses were immediately awakened in an unpleasant way as I took a bite of my cheesecake. Before I knew it, I grabbed a cloth napkin from the table.

“Oh my God!” Dolapo exclaimed. She got up quickly to come to my side, alarm written all over her face. “Ms. Williams are you all right?”

Before I could respond, I heaved again into the napkin. Dolapo grabbed another one from the table and dipped it into her glass of water to wipe my forehead while holding my hair back from my face. Some of the waiters had come around to assist as well. Bent over like I was, my left hand across my torso, I tried to take some steadying breaths, willing for the wave of sudden nausea to pass. With their help, I got up and Dolapo followed me into the bathroom.

Head over the sink, I rinsed my mouth with water. Dolapo stood beside me, still helping me with my hair and rubbing my back, telling me it’d be okay.

“I think I’m fine now,” I breathed out in a soft spoken whisper, distressed by what just happened. “I don’t know what happened in there. Maybe ordering the cheesecake was overdoing it.”

“Maybe we should get you to a hospital.” Worry lines creased her forehead.

“No, no, no. I’m fine now. Trust me.” I took the cloth napkin she’d brought in with her and wiped my face. “Maybe I had something bad and I’m just reacting to it is all.”

“But I ordered the same thing you did and I feel fine.”

Her worrying was about to drive me nuts. I sought to reassure her. “Truly, Dolapo, I just probably need to go home and relax for the rest of the day. Maybe you can help me with a cab.”

She looked uncertain but followed me out and stayed with me until I got settled comfortably in the back one.

* * * * *

I took a detour to the drugstore, grabbing a bottle of water as I checked out. As the cab weaved its way through the city traffic, I took small sips from it. Leaning my head against the window, I felt exhausted. I shot off a text to Michael: tired. abort dinner plans.

Shortly after, he called.

“Hey sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“I just don’t feel up to dinner today is all. Hope you’re enjoying your visit.” I tried to be a bit friendly even though I was feeling anything but.

“Something’s wrong, I can tell. Just tell me what it is.”

“Something is wrong and it’s you asking me what’s wrong.” His concern made me feel a bit more irritable and at the same time made me want to draw more into myself. “Can’t a girl just not want to have dinner? Isn’t it my prerogative?” I promptly disconnected the call, and then completely switched off the phone, knowing he’d probably try to call back.

I got to my room; dumping the contents of my drugstore purchase on the bed, I picked up a pink box and went into the bathroom. It was a pregnancy test. While waiting for a cab outside the bistro, I realized I had missed my period and coupled with the fact that I felt sluggish, I could reach only one conclusion. Nervous hands opened the box. I read the instructions twice, three times to make sure I did everything right. How hard could peeing on a stick be? Slumped on the floor against the door, I pulled up my knees and resting my chin against them, I waited. I counted the moments by the breaths I took. If I was pregnant, how would this change my life?

* * * * *

The darkness of my room was in contrast to the hour of the day. A soft knock preceded Michael’s entry. He met me curled up on the bed, hugging a pillow.

“How are you feeling?” he asked tenderly, his hand brushing my face lightly.

His question met with silence. I looked at him with a blank stare.

“Folly, your current attitude has me concerned. Tell me what’s wrong.” His tone was gentle.

“Nothing’s wrong.” I decided to keep the news of my pregnancy from him.

“Scoot over.”

I did as he asked and the heat of his body curled around me. We stayed that way for a long time. My heart fluttered with desire but I had to suppress it. In this moment, there isn’t anyone else I’d want to be with but him but with recent developments, I couldn’t keep my hold on him anymore. I needed to let Michael go.

I cleared my throat. “Michael, I think it’s time you left. Having you here is wrecking havoc on my emotional stability. I’m not sure what we’re doing. Having this… this… tension between us and being married at the same time is not ideal.”

I got up, knowing this would hit him hard. It wasn’t easy for me either. I strived to maintain my composure, keep my face void of any emotion. “I think I’m going to pay Dayo a visit tonight. But right now, I’m going out for a walk. I’d appreciate it if you were gone by the time I come back.”

More words were spoken but it all became a blur as I left the hotel room, fighting back tears. As the elevator doors closed on me, I glared at my reflection and burst out crying. What was I doing? What was going on with me? I hit the emergency stop button and let it all out.

* * * * *

Michael was still in the room when I finally made it back. He was packing. Our eyes clashed and I quickly averted mine, feeling guilty.

“I thought you’d be gone.” I said almost too quietly.

He ignored me.

“Well, I’m going to Dayo’s so I’m sure you’ll be gone by the time I get back.” I went into my room and closed the door with a soft click, letting out a deep sigh.

I decided I’d pay Dayo a visit. My conscience wrestled between letting him know I was pregnant and keeping this all to myself and I finally decided he deserved to know about his child. We owed it to this child to try and sort out our differences. I got dressed carefully, donning a floral print maxi dress. Looking at myself in the floor length mirror, I put my hand over my still flat stomach. I arched my back to try and imagine what I’d look like as my stomach became bigger and rounder. I felt nervous about it but also protective. Even though this wasn’t planned, my child would be loved and would know love. I could already imagine a little girl who looked just like me, running around with pink bows adorning her hair.

“What are you doing?” I didn’t hear my door open.

“Nothing,” I responded hastily, startled out of my musings. “I’m just getting ready.”

“Is everything okay? Why are you going to Dayo?”

I shrugged and forced a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I think it’s time for a reconciliation.”

He looked at me puzzled. I could see the hurt in his eyes when I said that. Being attracted to Michael, I knew it was only a matter of time before we crossed the adultery line and I didn’t want to go there. I was obligated to my marriage and now, I felt I owed it to this child to try to work things out with the father.

I arranged for a cab and gave them Dayo’s address. I still had a key to the flat so if he wasn’t home, I was prepared to wait.

* * * * *

“What are you doing here, Folake?”

Dayo’s voice accosted me as I let myself into the flat and entered into the living room. He was seated on a black leather chair in the corner. I looked around. It was certainly cleaner and organized a bit differently than I’d left it. He still had a picture of our wedding on the mantel. I wonder what that meant, if anything at all.

“Hey Dayo,” I started almost uncertainly. The doorbell had yielded no response so I let myself in and now all I wanted to do was turn back around. I wasn’t quite sure how to bridge into the reason for my visit.

“I asked what you are doing here.”

“I know. I heard you,” I responded softly. I inched deeper into the room. “I thought we could talk. It’s been a while since… well since you know… the office incident. Do you mind if I sit down?”

“Yes, I do mind.” He got up. “Folake, you are no longer welcome here. You need to hand over the keys and go back to wherever it is you’re coming from. I thought you would have been back in Atlanta by now but since you’re here, there’s no time like the present. I might as well tell you I want a divorce. I’ve been in contact with a lawyer.”

“A lawyer?” I asked, blindsided, trying to wrap my mind around what he was saying. “A divorce?”

“Yes, I want a divorce. We’re no longer working out and I’ve found someone else.” His cruel looked dared me to challenge him. “Your place in my life is null and void.”

“Wow.” I felt almost physically ill. Churning stomach, I reached out to the wall for support. I blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”

He laughed derisively.

“Pregnant,” he repeated, the word coming out flat.

“Yes, Dayo. I wouldn’t just make that up. That’s one of the reasons I came here to see you. I am pregnant. It must have happened that day in your office.” I looked him squarely in his eyes. I saw briefly what could have passed for remorse.

“You’re lying.”

“Dayo, I…” I was about to say I loved him but just knew it wasn’t true anymore and I didn’t want to lie and try to influence him wrongly.

“I’m sorry about everything and I came here today, wanting to move forward. Let’s try to put the past aside,” I pleaded. “We need to try to make this work, at least for our baby.” Instinctively, I placed my hand over my belly. I could feel the heat of tears starting to form and I willed them to stay at bay.

His gaze followed my hand and he gave that mocking laugh again.

“You’re such an actress. So you want to try and trick me into staying in this sham of a marriage by claiming to be pregnant?” His voice, filled with incredulity, grated my already frayed nerves. “Come on Folake, even for you this is low,” he sneered, punctuating the last couple of words emphatically.

Resentment built up quickly at his doubt. “The sham of this marriage is directly proportional to your lousiness as a husband. I gave you all of who I was.” My breath hinged on a sob.

The tears had made their escape and rolled hotly down my cheeks. I was here putting aside my pride, and making an attempt to try and save my marriage, but how could I go begging for a guy that didn’t want me? If the incident at his office wasn’t clear enough, his desire for a divorce certainly was. I felt stifled; any minute now I was sure I’d choke to death. Taking in shallow breaths, the walls felt like they were closing in on me. I needed a release.

“I hate you!” I whispered fiercely. Needing to expend the emotional upsurge, I kicked off my shoes, picked them up and flung them at him. He was shocked into stepping back and fell back into the chair. He made a move to get up, seemingly wanting to retaliate. Bare feet stamping the floor quickly, I clutched my hand bag closer to me, rushed down the stairs and got out on to the grimy pavement. I could hear him behind calling out my name. Chest heaving, vision blurred by tears, I made a left to try to make my way to the nearest subway station. If I was lucky, maybe I’d find a taxi. I ran smack-dab into someone who held on to me longer than necessary.

“Let go of me!” Bordering on hysteria, I tried to wrestle the person’s grip off.

“Folake it’s me, Michael.” He tried to hold me steady. “It’s me!”

“Let go… what?” I looked up, recognition dawning on me. What was he doing here? I didn’t care at that moment. I looked behind me, Dayo was getting closer. “Get me away from here,” I pleaded with a sense of urgency.

“Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?”

I shook my head, no. I just wanted to get away

“Okay, let’s go,” he said, gathering me closer. “I have a car waiting just right around the corner.”

Dayo had stopped and was staring at us.

“Folake, who the hell is this?”

That was the last thing I heard as darkness enveloped me.

(c) DiamondHawk