The Depths Of A Human Mind – A flash fic Story
You will work into a store and want to purchase an item but the aesthetics of the store will either make you cringe or put you in the mood to spend all your money.
This was my predicament when I entered her shop. The decor was so pretty and the backdrop was of white and lilac colors flanked by fashionable posters of affirmations and girl power. I thought she was doing too much but she out did herself. A section of the shop was lined with clothes made of African fabrics while the other section was very westernized. Plush purple sofas nestled beside the wall and a big dressing mirror stood in front of one of the sofas.
A sweet fragrance of amber and sandalwood filled the entire shop while Whitney Houston’s voice travelled through invisible speakers.
“Rukayat, it’s so good to see you,” I heard her voice and turned around to see her standing with one hand behind her and the other in front of her protruding stomach.
I managed a smile but I must have looked weird because Jamal retracted his outstretched arms when he saw my face.
“Latifah, it is nice to see you,” I said and clutched my purse tightly, fighting the tears that scratched my eyes.
“You don’t look happy. What is the problem?” she asked and a tear rolled down my eyes.
“Jamal, go and play with Tobi at the back. I and your aunty need to talk.”
Jamal nodded and was gone in a flash while Latifah hugged me and her perfume made me leathery.
After what seemed like an eternity, I pulled away from her shoulders, inhaling and exhaling as I wiped the tears from my eyes but she supplied a handkerchief and before I could protest, she mopped my face with the blue and pink fabric that smelt like vanilla.
“What is it?” she asked, concern clearly evident in her face.
I managed to look up at her big brown eyes and I saw my reflection, the reflection of a barren woman.
“Did he say anything to you that hurt your feelings?” she asked, trying to probe the issue out of my lips.
I looked at her and saw a broken woman who would break further should she find out the truth behind my visit.
“What is it?” she asked, impatience replacing her tender tone. “Talk please.”
“Latifah, are your children my husband’s children?” I managed to ask and the concern in her face turned to fear.
I held her hand tightly before she could shift away. “Are they my husband’s children?” I asked again despite knowing the truth.
“No,” she blurted out and looked me straight in the eye, “they are Ibrahim’s children.”
“You are lying through your teeth,” I said and watched her shift her weight uncomfortably, she looked like a worm trapped in a bird’s nest. “Ibrahim cannot even father a child and your children look so much like my husband.”
“Please, get out of my shop this minute,” she stood up abruptly and I mirrored her movement. “It’s your barrenness cloaking your eyes.”
“But my barrenness never made me a cheating wife that would sleep with her husband’s brother and parade his children as my husband’s. My barrenness would never make me hurt you the way you hurt me!” I shouted at her and she was speechless, speechless as Whitney’s voice that was no longer audible.
She looked down and my heart went to her as she shook in tears. “I am so sorry. I am. I wanted Ibrahim to be happy that’s why I did what I did.”
“How does that even make sense?” I asked, my voice sounded so shrill as they left my mouth.
“I knew he could not father a child ever since our relationship in school because of an accident he had when he found out I cheated,” she said and sobbed “But the truth was, I liked Uncle Mohammed more than Ibrahim then but you were already married and I had to manage Ibrahim like that…”
I zoned out from the rest because the ground under my feet caved in and swallowed me up in a florescent light that spiralled with each movement. I could feel my head against a pillow and a pair of eyes constantly checking my eyes while the beeping of a monitor serenaded my ears.
But I didn’t want to wake up so I shut my eyes and went into the dark corners of my mind where my murderous tendencies were suppressed. I wanted a knife, I wanted to cut that baby out of her womb and watch her bleed till she died. I wanted her to know what pain felt like.
Then I would focus on my husband. A man whose balls always itched, a man who had transmitted many infections to me and scattered his seeds all over Abuja, just because I could not bear any. Was it my fault that all my children died before they even escaped my womb?
“Latifah, are you awake?” I heard his voice but I kept quiet. I needed the quiet.
“She is crying. Doctor, is she awake?”
“Madam, can you hear me?” A stethoscope was roving round my torso but I did not open my eyes.
“Uncle Mohammed, I need to see you.”
I knew her voice and her perfume filled my nose. She had the audacity to be in my hospital room?
I don’t know how but I sat up, grabbed his hand -as he was the closest to me- and squeezed.
“I want a divorce.”
I wonder how I found the courage but I figured that Allah would not be proud of me if I murdered her so a divorce was the safest option.
“Clearly you are out of your mind,” Mohammed said and removed my hand from his.
“I am very glad you think I am out of my mind.”
Just then, Ibrahim entered the ward with a bag of delicacies and cards.
“Ibrahim, do you know Jamal is your brother’s son and your wife does not love you?”
Ibrahim looked at me, surprised while the doctors tried to check my vitals but I nudged them off.
“The children are not yours because you can’t father children and it would please you to know that they are Mohammed’s.”
“What nonsense are you saying woman?” Mohammed shouted, clearly embarrassed by my outburst.
“Is she saying the truth?” Ibrahim asked a trembling Rukayat. “Will you answer me or should I ask the doctor for a DNA test now?”
Rukayat began sobbing as she knelt down and held onto Ibrahim’s trouser like a child. “I did not want to be called barren. Please forgive me Ibrahim.”
I saw the light switch in Ibrahim’s eyes as he pushed her and dumped the items on the floor. I laughed because this was funny.
“You witch!” Rukayat screamed from where she was and I snickered.
“Will you now give accept the divorce so you both can live happily ever after?”
Mohammed closed his eyes as he heaved loudly but I did not care. As far as I was concerned, this was better than running a knife through both their stomachs while Ibrahim watched, his hands and legs tied and his mouth gagged. Then, I would take Jamal as mine and we would travel abroad because I can.
“Let us talk about this later,’’ Mohammed tried to placate but I shook my head as the medical staff left the room.
“I divorce you Mohammed. Leave this room with your slut. You will hear from my lawyers.”
He stood there like he did not hear me but I was not bothered. I turned my back to him and went again into that dark space in my mind, there I bathed in their blood as I killed them over and over again.
While you are here, if forgiveness is something you struggle with, please check Shawn’s Bookstore for books on healing and true forgiveness.
