I did this story couple of months ago for our writers' group anthology.
But Ada wouldn't let me submit it.
So unfortunately, it wasn't published.
The story was written for the theme: Secrets and Lies.
I am not very good at spinning intrigues, so it took quite some effort to put it together.
It is titled "Looking for "M".
Do enjoy!
I am in the loo and this is the longest five minutes of my life.
When Father told me about a suitor who was coming to pick a beautiful flower in his garden, I wasn't in the least interested.
"He came here with his father. A brilliant young man. If you see him, you will like him. I assure you." he said, a smile contouring the corners of his lips.
I shrugged. I had just turned 22 and in my final year at uni. Marriage certainly didn't top my list nor was it at the bottom. It was somewhere remote, how you felt about getting Christmas dresses in July.
"Are you upturning your nose?" mother asked, her eyes getting fiercer. I realised what I had done and adjusted immediately.
"No. Continue turning your nose like a wild goat. By the time you hit thirty eight and there is no responsible man left in the market and your menses begins to sway like a tree in harmattan, this way and that.." she gesticulated with both hands, "That is when you will realise that dry fish and stock fish are not the same."
I cringed when she mentioned menses.
Mother's tongue like that of most Igbo women is a living thing with a mind of its own. Nothing is considered too vulgar as long as a point needed to be made. The more crucial the point, the more raw the words.
Father was right. I saw Obi and my legs wobbled. Tall, dark and handsome. Yes, that may sound cliché but he was the definition of masculine panache. He was eloquent, with a sparkling set of snow-white teeth to complete the equation.
I understood mother's satisfaction with my ambience with Obi when she trudged along the backyard to pick up nothing in particular from the vegetable garden, one evening. Obi was holding my right hand with one hand and stroking my chin with the other.
"Ndi iberibe. Stupid children. Better wait for the wedding before you do anything. My Golden Mother status is still important to me, for your information. This is not the time to start rushing anything because someone is looking for where she kept her menses." She finished off with a tongue click, kom!
We both burst out laughing.
"Mum is a real character!" Obi said.
"Tell me about it." I shook my head.
At the Bishop's office, couple of months later, we received forms for medical tests: Genotype, Blood group, Fertility, Hepatitis and every other thing.
We could smell the wedding coming, like the aroma of jollof rice from a party venue.
The Bishop's secretary, a middle-aged woman didn't seem too pleased to hand us the forms. I couldn't blame her anyways. I would definitely not feel pleased helping people get married while I cannot find a man at thirty eight.
No, I wouldn't say what mother would say if she were here. The M word has not settled well on my tongue.
"The fertility test is optional." she said.
Obi and I looked on.
"Some people say they are not marrying for children. So, we don't force them to do what they believe is unnecessary. Also, some men do not feel comfortable touching themselves to get out what the hospital needs for the.."
"Oh okay. We understand what you mean." Obi interjected.
"Yeah.. We do." I added, nodding.
The bishop's secretary smirked.
"Alright, the rest are to be done at the church lab, just across the road." She turned to face her computer.
"Thank you. Bye." we chorused.
At the lab, Obi asked me if I would want a fertility test done. I said I wouldn't mind, but since it wouldn't change anything, why bother?
He nodded and that was it.
We've been married for five years and not once had I looked for my menses. It came like clock-work, month after month.
At a point, I got worried and asked Obi if we should go see a doctor. He rebuffed the idea so violently, leaving me very thoroughly shocked. Not once in all the years I had known him had he behaved that way.
When I shared this with Ola, my doctor friend, she said with some measure of certainty that my husband was hiding something.
"If you come in just after you both had done it, no washing, I can take some left-offers of what he's dropped and go see what it's like in the lab." she said.
A month later, after I had succeeded in getting my husband's samples to the hospital without his knowledge on three occasions, I was sitting in Ola's consulting room when a nurse brought in the pink paper.
"Nnedi, it's more terrible than I thought." she said.
My heart did a triple jump, rendering my eyes hazy and my head unsteady.
"Its not just low sperm count. It's Azoospermia. Obi has got a total of zero sperm cells in his semen sample. There is no way he can get a woman pregnant."
For a while, I couldn't move. I couldn't even think.
Ola muttered some more sentences but I didn't hear any of what she said. All I can remember doing is getting up, thanking her and leaving the hospital.
Outside, I called Joy, my elder sister.
"Your sister has walked into the python's hole with her two eyes open." I said, crying my heart out.
"Oh God!" Joy wailed. "So, what they told me is true?"
"Who are they, Joy, and what did they tell you?"
The line went dead. Three more calls to it went unpicked.
I am in the loo and I am now staring at a pregnancy test strip. This is the fifth strip I'll be dipping into my urine. It's unmistakeable. The double pink lines are staring back at me.
I am pregnant.
It's either a miracle took place in Obi's reproductive tract or what I did with my boss three weeks ago resulted in this.
I think I should call Joy.
She always has a way out. Even in the direst of situations.
