Chapter 17: Chapter 17

It was one of those Sundays, Mark decided to go to church not doing clean up in his car or leaving the house early in the morning to a place only he knows . Kamsi was glad not just because he was going to church but that her plan would work better with his presence in church.

They got to the church when a woman was singing worship in front of the congregation. It was the new building. They used white plastic seats instead of  wooden pews that were familiar to Anglican churches.

The usher led them to a seat at the middle row but Mark did not like it. He stood on the aisle while his eyes scanned for seats close by then he walked to a seat which was at the wall with Kamsi following. It was a queue of white seats lined at the wall close to the eastern door. He loved to sit there because of the ease to stand and leave at will.

From the time they joined the service, it was no longer a long service for them. Kamsi sat looking at her phone and other times glancing up to look at the priest while he made the announcement. She had messages from Maka which she did not want to reply to. Maka was one of the people that hated the talk of her joblessness. She did not want to engage in a discussion about it with her. Generally, the two women did not seem to agree on anything any longer.

Immediately the service ended,  Mark went about greeting members of the church, the ones that were in high ranking in the society while Kamsi excused herself . She found the priest in the vestry and told him all that she had to tell him.

" I'll wait for you two upstairs. Go and bring him," the priest.

The priest's office was upstairs. It was a place he used for counseling young couples and new converts.

Kamsi went back to the church. Mark was sitting down with his friend. It was more than just a greeting, it was a deep discussion. His friend was the father of charity but just in the church. He only gave the orphans  in the church. Outside the church, he helped no one. Kamsi did not like the man and it infuriated her that he was the reason she was standing.

" Nobody asked you to stand," her mind countered.

She was standing there rocking herself back and forth on her stilettos heels. She hoped her husband would see her standing and summarize his discussion. Nothing like that happened. The discussion stayed as long as they wanted.

Mark stood up first and he clasped hands and embraced his friend . He started walking towards the western door where Kamsi was standing beside a chair. She kept rocking herself on her heels as she watched him with a smile.

"Stop doing that! " he scolded, in the same manner he would frown at a playful child.

Kamsi stopped playing with her heels .She straightened the ankara gown she wore and looked at him. He seemed annoyed.

"Don't you know, you could fall? " he asked.

"Archdeacon asked us to see him," She said hastily, feeling that joy like a child that had reported the older brother to the father.

He began walking to the door and Kamsi hurried to keep up.

"Is it that the pastor wants to see us or you want us to see the pastor? "

"Is there a difference? " Kamsi asked.

They were outside, on the front stairs leading into the church. Mark paused and turned to look at her. His eyes were narrowed in slits and his head to a side like he was accessing her and weighing his next words. It was what Kamsi thought each time he was in that position. She bent her head, clutching her purse more tightly. It was at that moment she noticed that her shoe had started to peel; It was expiring.

" Go to the car," he said, handing her the car keys. "I want to ease myself."

Once more, Kamsi rocked on her heels while she watched Mark corner to the back of the building where the toilets were located. She then slowly walked to where their car was parked. She waved in  greeting to a few familiar faces. Not having the strength to stand and exchange pleasantries, she quickened her pace to the car.

Mark entered the car and she buckled her seatbelt as he reversed and left the church premises. She looked back at the church gate. Inside there, she knew the Archdeacon could still be in his office waiting for them. He was her only hope to talk to Mark. She had felt he would at least hearken to the priest for fear of God. She had been proved wrong again.

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Kamsi was outside. She sat on a stool and plucked out the unwanted weeds that had started to grow around the plants. She played with the famous, 'touch and die' - Mimosa Pudica. She ran her fingers on the leaves of the plants and watched them fold up. It made her smile, watching them react to touch in that manner.

It was Monday. Exactly two weeks since she dressed up to go to work and fate did not approve. She stood up from the low wooden stool she sat and walked round the little garden, checking for more weeds. She used her hands to scoop sand to surround a new pepper plant that was just growing out of the ground.

'Even plants grow, everything grows apart from me.'

Those were her thoughts, as loud as a voice. She rubbed a less sandy hand on her tummy and she wondered if really a tiny being was inside there. There was no very obvious change in her tummy. It still looked to her as flat as it had always been. She was going to be a mother soon, it was enough reason to grow. She felt rekindled again . Even she did not know how long before her new fire would be put out.

She washed her hands under the tap that was close to the garden before she went inside. Mark had gone to work so the house just had her as the only sign of life and the cockroaches that hid in corners of darkness.

She picked her phone from the dining table and called Maka. She was someone that knew how to add fuel to her fire. Infact, at times, she fueled her too much with words that were like a mother's scolding. Kamsi never liked it but she wanted it at that time.

She listened to the dial tone for the second time until it got into voice mail. She ended the call and waited impatiently for Maka to call back. She knew Maka had travelled to Ghana either for vacation or business. She could not accurately say which, she had not been paying attention when she was told. All that filled her mind at that time was the freedom Maka had as an unmarried woman. The fact that she was a single mother did not even tie her down, nothing did.

Bong bong bong bong..

The sound of her ringtone like a church bell, pushed her back to consciousness as her eyes were already closing.

"Maka," she said into the phone.

"Kamsi, I have been trying to reach you. You don't return calls or even reply to my messages, " Maka said From the other end of the line.

"I'm calling you now. "

"Oh, really, " Maka retorted with a hint of sarcasm "You were ignoring me to call when it's convenient for you? "

"Abegi. You are still alive na. " Kamsi said, laughing.

" Girl, you are trying, you are really trying. "

"I need your advice, " Kamsi said, solemnly.

" Okay.. I'm listening. "

Maka was silent while Kamsi narrated her ordeal with her husband starting with when she started looking for a job presently till when her employment letter was torn.

"He did not tear it !" Maka exclaimed

Kamsi smiled sadly at the rhetorical statement that did not need affirmation. Else, Kamsi would have said,

"oh, yes. He did."

Maka was silent but Kamsi could hear the sound of the fridge or cupboard opening and closing.

" You have to go and get your job back. You have to stand and fight for what you want. You can not just be there, a mere wife and allow him to push you about.

I have a strong dislike for that your husband. I can't even pretend. I should be helping you file for divorce but you all are going to say, what does a single woman know?

Listen to me and listen to me carefully. Kamsiriochukwu, you are not that woman, you are not that woman Mark is turning you into. "

Kamsi breathed in then let out the air slowly.

"I am not that woman " She said, reassuring herself.

"Yes, you are not. Fight for who you truly are. If you can not, I will come there and get you back on your feet and you know what I can do "

She nodded. She knew all Maka could do, she did not know what she could not do. Maka could be extreme, she could go to any lengths. She could do anything.

After the call ended, Kamsi still recited it as a mantra,

"I'm not this woman. I'm not this woman . I'm stronger than this."