By Maryam Altine Baba
Chapter Thirteen
Zainab looked up as Ali and Rabi’u walked in to the room. They didn’t bother with the salam, they just walked in arguing about a football match they have watched in the viewing center. The stench that came with them was ordure.
She almost couldn’t breathe in fresh air as she held in the bile that threatened to rise up to her throat. How she’d curbed the urge to pour out her stomach contents, organs inclusive was short of a miracle.
Ali’s disregard for personal hygiene was more pronounced during the last three days. And so was his attitude towards the five daily salat. He was simply unabashed.
Plus, she couldn’t remember if he’d ever taken the purification bath after intimacy. She’d even offered to help him, but he had given her step by step details on how it was performed. Except that he hadn’t performed it, at all.
She’d considered her option of leaving the room to them when she noticed the black polythene bag Ali took out from his pocket. When he’d emptied it, it was stacked with assortment of wraps; paper wraps and cigarettes.
“Dude, this is surreal! I thought you said you didn’t have money to spend?” Rabi’u was clearly exhilarated and dug in to take a piece of the paper wrapped thing.
That was when she rose up, with more animosity than she’d intended, “Where did you get the money for all these?”
Ali lighted a stick of the wrapped substance and puffed the smoke in the air. He didn’t spare her a glance. That angered her the more and she struggled harder to contain herself.
“Are you deaf, Ali?” Of course, she knew he wasn’t. He’d heard her well but chose to ignore her. It had angered her more.
He’d then looked up and cocked his head, “No, I am not deaf, neither am I blind to see that you’re not my mother!”
Rabi’u burst in to fits of annoying laughter as if that was hilarious. “Dude, she’s your wifey men!”
“Yes.” Aliyu’s tone was flat, chilling. “An annoying, meddling wife. My mother doesn’t talk to her husband the way she’s talking to me now.”
Zainab was stunned. She couldn’t believe he was the Ali that had vowed and promised to give every bad habit up for her sake. She had made him promise her to be a better man. Now everything seemed all a very big, fat lie.
“Yes, I am nosy and I have always been, especially when I suspect someone took something of mine and spent it without asking.”
Ali regarded her with hooded eyelids, a slow cynical smile cropped up his face, “Were you referring to the money that was under the mattress?” he shrugged as he continued to puff smoke, “I borrowed it. It didn’t look like you were going to use it anytime soon. So, what was the harm in me using it?”
Zainab was dazed into outright silence. She couldn’t believe it! That money was hers and didn’t want it to be spent in such a lousy way.
“Give me that!”
And before the words could register in Ali’s head, she’d taken the offending concocted substance in a swift motion and threw it out the door. She had promised herself she was not going to tolerate any of that.
And with lightning speed, Ali’s fist landed on her cheek, blinding her temporarily. She let out a groan.
He’d scowled at her with a voice that spoke several volumes of danger, and had issued out a note of warning, “Don’t you dare do that again or so Allah help me, you’re so going to get what you’re asking for.”
With that, he simply walked out without the slightest hint of regret. His friend followed suit like the tail of the puppy dog he was. And it was lights out.
Zainab held her palm to her cheek, almost so she could feel if it still existed. The impact of his hit was enormous, but it was the pierced heart that pinned her to a state of an effigy. She was numb as tears rolled down her bruised cheek and it burned. That had hurt too, emotionally.
Nothing had prepared her for the events of that morning or the evening. Nothing. She had known Ali for some time now, and he had either behaved inebriated or insensitive around her. But he was never violent, and certainly had never hit her.
He was a smooth talker, one who had stolen her heart effortlessly. And he was always careful what he did or said especially around her. She thought she held an exceptional place in his heart. But then this happened.
She knelt down as she sobbed. If she were true to herself, she knew the tendency of this occurring on a scale was seven out of ten. She just didn’t expect it was going to be sooner, precisely days in to her mockery of a wedlock.
She was still sulking when Ali had returned later in the night. Seeing him a bit sober, she’d expected an apology and his rounds of smooth talks to pacify her. She’d even refused to eat anything so she’d drive in her message.
“Why haven’t you made up for me?” He’d asked. And when she looked at him puzzled, he added, “You were supposed to make up like new brides do. Aren’t you going to seduce me or something?”
Zainab was flustered. She was still angry at him and all he thought of was make up? “If you wanted any make up, why didn’t you buy any for me?” she gave him a comeback without batting an eyelid.
Ali smirked, “I think you need to be taught a lesson on humility, because your mouth is faster than your brains.”
She glared at him, “Don’t you dare think you’d hit me again and go free. Wallahi I will hit back when you do.”
He seemed to withdraw as her threat had registered. “I am sorry.”
She was taken aback by his sudden apology; the change in his tone was purely that of remorse. It was as if she’d dreamt about everything from the beginning.
He enveloped her in a bear hug and she felt her boiling rage receding. She was willing to forgive him if he would change this way. She knew change wouldn’t be easy, but the patient bird always caught the fattest worm.
Yes. Ali had change albeit gradual since their abrupt marriage. To her, it was success recorded in gold.
