Church Girl; Good Good Night

There was another knock, this time more persistent. It was an angry knock. You can tell what to expect. An angry landlord knocks with entitlement. The caretaker knocks with humility. And a scorned lover knocks with finality- with an open-this-door-or-you’ll-never-see-me-again attitude. If you know you have nothing to hide, you open boldly. But if there is something, you linger as you clear the evidence. But the longer you take, the wrath keeps hitting the crescendo.

His was a scorned lover knock.

He hesitated. He got to the door and turned. Looked at Judy unsure if he should open. If he didn’t, she was going to create a scene outside. She signalled him to open. Hell was going to break loose, but this needed to be done. To be dealt with once and for all. He didn’t have the balls to confront his main and tell her that he cannot continue with the lie- he was hoping this one would die like the others every time he goes cold. But she came to him. It would be ugly.

When he opened, she blurted, “I thought you were at your mother’s house?’

He said nothing. When cornered, men either fight, flee or freeze. He froze.

‘I am talking to you.” She shouted. Again, he did not say a word.

She pushed her way past him then stopped halfway and turned to him and asked, “who is this bitch and what is she doing in my house?” She considered this her house yet he had never officially asked her out or even had the keys to this house. You know how it works, a few dates here and there and it is considered official.

“My mother.” He said then chuckled. 

That ticked her off completely. She threw her handbag at him and started crying.

This threw him off, he expected world war III, but she was not fighting, she was crying. He was confused. Should he walk up to her and comfort her or simply watch. He chose the latter. He watched her cry leaning against the wall. She then slipped against the wall and sat on the floor avoiding the ‘welcome’ door mat. She avoided it because she did not feel welcome anymore. She avoided it because she felt like a doormat herself. Used and now dumped.

When she finally gathered enough strength to look up, with tears rolling down her cheeks and her otherwise beautiful hair all jumbled up, she asked him, ‘why are you doing this to me?’ He did not answer. Instead, he stared. Either lost in his thoughts or too overwhelmed to say anything. He can handle insults, but he doesn’t know what to do when a woman cries. He freezes. Tears stiffen him up. Tears dumbfound him.

He finally mustered some confidence and says, ‘I did not mean to hurt you.” 

He meant it. When he first saw her in traffic he really liked her. He wanted to get to know her. He even wanted to make her his. But there was something missing. Every time they went for dates, he kept searching for it. But he couldn’t point a finger to it. That’s why when he met Judy, he knew what was missing, it was chemistry.

That night, in his own house, he had two women. One whom he almost loved, the other one whom, despite knowing her for a few weeks, he loves. That’s how the heart works. Though sometimes it can be deceptive, most times it speaks with utmost clarity. Your feelings align with your thoughts. You do not have a shadow of doubt that this is what you truly want to do.

She retorted, ‘if you didn’t want to hurt me, why do you have another woman in your house yet you made me believe we had a future?’

“Well, I was confused. Every day I struggled with thoughts of if I was making the right decision. But I never lied. I would always told you how I felt.” He said.

That statement seemed to awaken something in her. She was a fighter. She slowly stood up. He stepped back a bit. He didn’t know what she was thinking. Was she going to attack him? In campus, she did martial arts for fun. That gave her extra confidence. She once fought with a tout who grabbed her ass. Was he about to get his ass whopped by a woman? Not in his house. Not in front of the woman he loves.

All this time, Judy had not moved an inch from the couch. She was taking it all in. It was the first time she had seen a woman fight for a man. She had never fought for a man. Or even given them a chance to hurt her. If a man seemed dodgy, he would leave him, and cut off the links and never talk to him again.

This was both strange and fascinating.

She rubbed off her tears with the back of the hand. Straightened her hair and her gait. With a straight voice, she asked, “tell me, is it me or that bitch?”

“Don’t call her names, she is not to blame.” He shouted.

“I will call her whatever I want. It is only a low life who takes another woman’s man. How many times have you slept with her?” She shouted back.

“You will not disrespect my woman in my house.” He said.

He was surprised that he had used the term ‘my woman.’ With all the woman he had been with, he had never used that term. He would use words like, ‘new catch,’ ‘latest machine,’ when describing her to his boys. He now just called her, my woman. When Judy heard that, she smiled. The thought of belonging warmed her up.

“Say that again?” She said.

“You heard me right,” He said.

Without saying a word, she pushed him over and picked up her bag.

On her way out, she said, “both of you can go to hell.” Then banged the door.

“Now smiling, he said, “we will find you there.”

That was easier than he thought. He had expected a real confrontation. He then turned to Judy who was now sitting upright on the couch with tears on her eyes. Tears of joy. It was the first time a man had defended her. If she needed a confirmation that this was the man, this was it. With her head, she beckoned him to join her on the couch.

With him leaning against the hand rest, and her sitting between his legs, resting on his chest. She pulled the duvet and covered them and whispered, “It will be good good night....”

The end……..