D-day jitters prolonged – waiting for the hubby to come home
Posted by African Press International on July 20, 2009
By Njoks
It was 8pm and I was still waiting for the hubby to come home. He hadn’t called to announce he would be late.
Wait, I switched off my phone in the morning to avoid any disappointments in case he didn’t send me a lovey-dovey message congratulating us on our first year of marriage.
So we have had our ups and downs but I’ve heard most marriages go through the same seesaw experience, so ideally, we should celebrate clocking 365 days together without killing each other, despite the moments we almost came close to that.
I rushed to get my phone and switch it on. I was trying to convince myself I didn’t mind if he hadn’t sent me any message but the truth was, I was hoping he had said something, even if it was just two words.
A few seconds later, the phone buzzed with several messages. Feverishly, I went through them. None from the hubby…only delighted shrieks and images of popping champagne from friends and family. I was right after all. The man was still mad at me.
The way things were going, I guessed he planned to punish me. I was beginning to get angry. I thought about calling Bryan and having a grand party with him. That way, all of Jimmy’s misplaced anger would be justified.
Sexiest little things
My heart was racing and my stomach was beginning to cramp. The makeup I had taken an hour to do was beginning to melt and fade. The lingerie I had on was cutting into my flesh. In my haste to buy the sexiest little things I could lay my hands on while on my shopping spree in Westlands, I had forgotten I was pregnant and, as a result, my midriff was expanding an inch (or so) a day.
A voice warned me I could be jeopardising the health of the unborn child but I quickly brushed that aside. Without the hubby in my life, that unborn baby was better off dead, anyway. It was 8.30pm. No show still.
The food the caterers had placed in the oven on low heat to keep warm was beginning to dry out. I felt my pulse speed up in panic. What would I do if that food burnt? I had no more money to salvage that situation!
The champagne, wine and his beer too, were getting icy cold. Thinking he was going to arrive in good time, I had shoved them in the freezer to cool faster. They were about to develop into ice blocks. I transferred them to the bottom compartment of the fridge.
I began to pace the room. Should I call him? Or should I act cool and pretend his lateness didn’t bother me when it was literally driving me against the wall and heightening my blood pressure? I was confused.
The scented candles had burnt down halfway and the house was suffocating. If he took any longer I would collapse from the overdose of odours. The glow I had on previously from the anticipation of a well planned seduction had dimmed immensely.
My hair was no longer as perfectly coiffed as it was four hours ago. My makeup was smudged and I probably looked like a scarecrow but I was getting to the point where I no longer cared. I wanted to cry. This was just too painful. Did other married women go through this same drama? Was this the end of us? I had absolutely no idea how to handle this crisis.
I decided to call him at 9pm. The call didn’t go through. I got a mteja message instead. I tried again. Nothing. I tried his office direct line. No response. Something was desperately wrong — either with him or with us as a couple.
—desperate@standardmedia.co.ke
source.standard.ke
