Desolation

Chapter one

Service had just ended. People flooded the doorway, each waiting their turn to pay homage to the good reverend, my husband.
“That was a wonderful sermon, Pastor” I heard one of the elders say. I waited patiently beneath the short flight of stairs, nodding and smiling like the perfect preacher’s wife, careful not to keep a conversation for too long.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw David approach and I cringed inside. David was one of my best friends; well at least he was five years before I married James. Now, he was just another member of our church. We rarely ever talked. I won’t lie; I avoided him as much as I could. Even though we’d been just friends, I knew David had always had a thing for me. It was not hard to tell. Our friends back in the day used to tease me about it, but since I had already been dating James, he never came forward with his feelings and so that ship never left the harbour.
   My husband didn’t like David very much and I can say that the feeling was mutual, seeing as David had begged me not to marry him. He, however, failed to give me a cogent reason except of course that something didn’t sit right with him about James; needless to say I went through with it anyway. I was in love and there was no stopping me.
“Katherine.” He greeted with a tight smile.
“David.” I tried to fake my brightest smile. I was going to do anything to avoid the inevitably awkward conversation. When he didn’t immediately respond, I tried again.
“So how are you? How’s work and everything? I feel like it’s been a while…” I was rambling, we both knew but it was better than the awkward silence.
“Kate,” he interrupted.
I just sighed my response; I guess there was no avoiding what was coming.
“You’ve been avoiding me.” He went straight to the matter at hand.
I was starting to get really uneasy. This was the longest I’d stood outside the church talking to a guy since I became “Preacher’s wife.” I decided that trying to be evasive or even feigning ignorance was going to make the conversation longer than it needed to be, so I went straight to the point. I could already feel the weight of James’s stare from where he stood, as it was.
“I have. But we can’t do this here. How about I call you later?”
“For a second there, I thought you didn’t have my number anymore.”
“I know I know…” I saw James dismiss his latest audience and start towards us. I had to wrap up the conversation, and I had to do so as quickly as possible.
“Look, I’ll call you okay? We’ll talk, I promise.”
“Okay then” he sighed, “I’ll be expecting.”
“What are we expecting?” James apparently had caught wind of the last part of the conversation. I felt like a deer caught in headlights.
“This month’s daily devotional.” I know I shouldn’t have lied. But James, well let’s say I needed to make the situation look as good as I could. James leaned in, he and David locked in some kind of staring contest. David stood at a solid 6ft4, so he towered over my 5ft9 husband easily. Although at the time it didn’t seem like it mattered, he wasn’t going to be intimidated. David yielded.
“Do have a lovely week.” With that, he turned and walked away.
“He was just…” I was going to attempt an explanation, but James beat me to it.
“Get in the car.” His jaw ticked as he quietly ordered.
“James…”
“Now, Katherine.”
   The car ride home was awkward, to say the least. Fifteen minutes of deafening silence. I didn’t even know what I did wrong, yet I felt like I had to apologize. I was scared, I’ll admit. So I waited for when we’d get home and I’d serve him lunch, to apologize. Maybe the gloom would have cleared by then.
  Once home, I was sweeter than a peach, overcompensating I know. But you see, James, he was a tad jealous. I knew that somehow, seeing me with David had upset him very much. I hurriedly made lunch and served it. Before then, I’d given him a glass of juice and some appetizers.
“Babe, food is ready.”
He just scoffed and rubbed a hand over his face.
“Babe, huh? Why are you acting guilty? What did you do?”
“James, that’s not fair,” I replied, keeping my voice low.
“What’s not fair Katherine? Do you think I’m blind? You think I don’t know that he was your lover?”
“For the umpteenth time, we never dated. We’ve always been just friends, okay?”
He was quiet, staring at me with piercing brown eyes. He was getting to that place, where the only rage existed. Nothing could get to him once he got like that. It was scary.
“James…” I tried again.
“You dare raise your voice at me because of this guy?” his menacing tone was very quiet. I was lost for words; I had only been exasperated at his refusal to understand what had always existed between James and me.
“Katherine!” He thundered. He was walking towards me and I didn’t like the look in his eyes. It was almost like he was squinting, his eyes were angry slits. I took a few steps back when he kept taking those slow calculated steps towards me. I quickly put the dining table between us. James had never hit me before but he had a wild temper, even I knew this. When he got like this, I didn’t know what he was capable of.
“Seriously? You’re running away from me? I’m now a monster yeah?” His voice was low again, the anger was evident nonetheless.
I wasn’t sure what the correct words were in a situation such as this, so I was quiet. This was one of those “no sudden movements” situations.
“Answer me!” He roared. But before I could say anything, he flipped the dining table and everything came tumbling down with a deafening crash. The shattering of glass and splashing of food and water worked together to produce such terrifying music. I barely made it out of the way in time. I was stunned. I mean, James had extreme temper loss tendencies but the worst he had ever done was punch something.
Still, I tried again. “I’m sorry.” Although to be honest, I was not sure what it was I was apologizing for. The man just stared at me. The only sound that could be heard was the silent whir of the air conditioner. It was such a contrast if you were comparing it what had come out of the debris that now laid in the dining area. Though the spacious dining room gave way to an even bigger living room, I felt like I was suffocating, like the walls were closing in. James's cell phone saved the moment with its “Hallelujah” ringtone. I was grateful to whoever was on the other end of that line. They broke the silence when I didn’t know how to. I couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve become of my feet had any of the glassware or even the glass of the table itself, landed on them. I was not sure I wouldn’t have had complete feet anymore, most likely. What do you say after something like that?
   It was my mother calling. I watched as he forced cheerfulness into his voice as he answered her. I heard him tell her that everything was fine. Only this time, he didn’t call me to come and talk to her. Whenever my mother called, it has become a little ritual to say a few silly things about me, share a laugh and then put me on the phone. It was their thing. That didn’t happen, which I guess shouldn’t have been too surprising. What was surprising was how normal he was acting, laughing even. At some point, I heard him say I wasn’t close by, and that he would tell me she called.
“I’m not cleaning that up,” I said and headed up the stairs to our bedroom. He made the mess, he needed to clean it up.
   I sat on my bed facing the window. It was a particularly cool Sunday. Sundays were usually sunny as I’d come to know them, this Sunday was different. It reflected the gloom that had settled over my home. I heard James moving around for a while before finally heading upstairs. I was at the window staring at the little garden I’d insisted on having in the backyard. The backyard itself was big enough to house a moderately sized bus terminal but the garden only occupied a little corner. This way, I would be able to tend it personally, giving each bud the tender care it needed. It was early raining seasons and my flowers bloomed their brightest and gave a subtle exotic scent to the backyard. They grew really fast too. I liked to cut them and put them in a vase on the dining room table, every Sunday before I served lunch, yet I always had fresh flowers. On this particular Sunday, I’d forgotten to set the flowers in my haste to serve lunch. Maybe that was why lunch had taken a turn for the worst.
   I was still looking at my beautiful garden when James walked in. Every Sunday after lunch, we’d go out for ice cream or some other desserts, see one or two people we needed to see before heading home. As a minister, there was always someone James needed to counsel or pray with. I usually tagged along on these visits but even without being told, I knew it wasn’t going to happen this time. He stood behind me and addressed my back.
“I will replace your plates and dining table tomorrow.”
I didn’t have the words, it was the dining table and plates he was worried about? And they were suddenly mine? It had been a long time since the money I made factored in any conversation, yet I felt like that was exactly where he went with that statement. James was comfortable financially. When he wasn’t preaching the gospel, he was an engineer and his company was doing well. So what was the problem, you ask? I was rich. And I don’t mean two hundred thousand nairas a month rich, I made a lot of money. I was a girl who had dared to dream when I was younger. I grew up writing scripts while I joggled between school and a magazine job. I finally decided to try and sell my scripts. After what felt like an eternity, a prestigious producer gave me the time of day and read my work. My life pretty much changed after that. With the money I was making, I was able to set up my own advertising and Public Relations Company fresh out of the NYSC scheme. This of course happened before James’s career kicked off. It wasn’t easy to be an engineer and a pastor in the same breath, so I supported us for the few years of courtship and two of marriage. The last three years of marriage were easier on him as he was finally earning a substantial amount of money. Even at that, he couldn’t boast of half of what sat in my account. But we didn’t allow that to affect our marriage, or at least that was what I thought we’d agreed to do when the topic came up in our conversations. And it didn’t come up again for a long time until now. He called them my things, probably because I’d pay for them.
   I finally turned around. His eyes were red, lips tight. He still looked angry.
“We nena?” I asked, even though I didn’t need to ask him what he’d said, I’d heard him loud enough.
“You heard me. I’m going out.” He grabbed his keys and he was out the door.
   It was well after midnight before James returned. I was wide awake but I was in no mood to deal with him so I lay very still. Whatever was going on with him, he needed to sleep it off. I felt the bed dip when he finally got in. Even with my back turned, I could smell the alcohol. It had been a long time since James went out to drink or came back home at this time of the night. I started to wonder if something else was bothering him, something he hasn’t told me about. Thinking it was more than he was letting on strengthened my resolve to allow him to cool off, despite the Bible’s position on going to bed angry. I wouldn’t say I was exactly angry, but he probably still was.
   I couldn’t help but wonder if I also had to have a conversation about James replacing the things he had broken in the fit of his anger. The only reason it mattered to me was the fact that he’d broken more than just some kitchen wares, he’d crossed a line. Something was changing and not for the better. It felt like years of sweeping things under the rug were finally catching up with us. I didn’t want him to replace those things he broke, I mean, I needed a table to serve him his meals and entertain guests but I also didn’t want him to feel like he’d fixed anything but simply buying new stuff. I could have been severely hurt if I hadn’t moved out of the way in time. Kilograms of broken glass could have landed on my feet, which were adorned by only a pair of flip-flops. There’s no telling the extent of the damage that could have been done.
   James’s anger had gained volume over the course of our marital years. He’d always had tendencies, but he never took them out on me. We had met back then at the University, he was two years ahead of me when I was just a fresher. We first saw each other when I joined the rotary club; he’d already been a member. Club meetings meant that we got to see each other often. I first really noticed him when he would challenge the existing president’s decisions when the rest of us were too scared to voice our thoughts. He was passionate about what he believed in, but at the same time, he had some undertones of rebellion. He would challenge decisions until we were saddled with the best possible option. It came as no surprise when he was made the next president of the club. He was nice to me back then, kind even. So much that even when we passionately disagreed, he was careful with his choice of words. I remember thinking how he was very considerate.
   As the years passed, it was like his cloak of consideration was falling apart, one stitch at a time. His anger was now more evident, his words tethering dangerously close to the edge of abuse. I remember a very public fight in my final year. He’d come to the campus to see me and met me hugging David goodbye. He flared up. It didn’t matter how many times both David and I tried to explain to him that we were just friends and that nothing happened, he wasn’t having it. It had almost gotten physical between him and David. In fact, had I not gotten between them, he was going to hit David. He didn’t look too happy about it, but he let it go.
   Now, you can imagine my joy when he seemed to have a change of heart and decided to study to become a pastor. I thought that meant that the extreme anger episodes were finally over. And for a while, they were. He started to have more control over them, handling things a little different. He seemed at peace with himself and with the world. And so when he asked me to marry him, I didn’t hesitate. It looked like my one reservation had been fixed; I didn’t see a reason not to. I was sure that I loved him and that he was doing better, he was making efforts to become a better version of himself while teaching people about Jesus. What could be better?
   Fast forward to five years of marriage. His control was slipping ever so often; he wasn’t as happy or as free as he was before. He seemed disturbed, lost in thoughts often. His greetings became curt, the conversation seemed like a chore. Even his lovemaking had changed, he now would set such a punishing pace that I lost any and all possible enjoyment halfway through. It was also farther between. I’d noticed the changes and tried to have a conversation about them but he claimed that I was being paranoid. I tried and tried again, he wasn’t having it so I dropped it. This was the norm but with the current situation, I felt like he had taken things a notch higher. I remember wondering just how far things would go before drifting off to a fitful sleep.