Short Story – Tade, My Beloved.

‘My Love for you will never run out, you make me a better person, you make me happy, you make life worth living. I can’t wait to have you as mine forever, I love you Baby Mi’.

That was the caption of Tade’s last post on Instagram ; it was a picture of me.
I have been re-reading it all day, trying to compare it with the text he sent to me two-days ago.

‘Its over, forget about me and move on’

You should have seen the way I laughed when I got the text.
‘Hahahahaha, Silly boy, he must be really bored, what a joke’

I called to laugh it off with him, but his phone was switched off. Logged unto Facebook to send him a message and alas! His account had been deactivated.

‘This joke is getting really sick’ I thought.
‘What nonsense!, Can you imagine? Heyy, Tade? Can you imagine?’
Those were the words on a rerun from my mouth as I slammed the door of my apartment making my way to his.

I mean, if Tade wants to call off our 4years relationship, he should tell me to my face. 

I adjusted my dress, added some lipstick, perceived my breathe. Lol. This is silly. Am I nervous? Nervous to see Tade? Or scared on what to expect? Ugh. I don’t know.

‘Madam, Brother Tee don pack o’ a voice behind me called.

‘What do you mean by that Ahmed? I turned to reply, already trembling inside. Ahmed is the gateman in Tade’s compound.

‘Uncle Tee pack all in load go’

‘When did this happen? ‘Where did he pack to?’.

‘Wallahi, Madam I no know.

Break-up text. Switched off phone. Home vacated. Facebook deactivated.
What could this mean? Was my Tade gone? To where? How can Tade leave without me? He shared everything with me. We told each other everything. Why would he leave? Where is my Tade?

I walked out, aimlessly perambulating the street of Adeniyi Jones. I noticed everyone that passed by me, stared. I traveled my hands to feel my hair…in case my wig had fallen off. It was there. My buttons were done, I had my shoes on. Why were they staring then? I looked down to cross-check my shirt again…then I saw it. My white shirt was filled with some black stain. The liquid strolled from my eyes. Ha! I was crying. I had been crying the whole time and I didn’t even know. I started crying out loud….really loud. By now, trust Nigerians. I was surrounded by almost 10people.

‘What’s wrong? Why are crying? ‘Did someone die? Talk to us. A problem shared is a problem solved. Tell us the problem’

At this moment, I stopped crying. Dried my tears, smiled and said…’don’t worry, I will be fine’.

One fat woman in the group insisted I shared…’No, we can’t leave you like this. You might hurt yourself. Tell us’

‘My boyfriend left me!’ I screamed.

Not one person uttered a word. They didn’t need to. The disgust was well dispersed on their faces.
One man hissed and left, others followed soothe. Like they were waiting for someone to launch the escape.

Surprisingly, The fat woman remained. I expected her to leave first. Why? Well..the typical fat Nigerian woman got no chill.

‘Where are you headed?‘ She asked softly

‘I live on the Island’ I replied.

‘My car is parked over there, I will drive you, we can talk on our way‘. She said, quite convincingly.

Usually, I won’t need to think before hesitating. Aside her being a total stranger, we were in december. If you live in Nigeria, you will understand what I mean. Alot of devious deeds happen in december, extra caution is usually taken when that month approaches.

All that didn’t matter. I was in distress and my disposition at that moment didn’t mind death.
What was there to live for?
Tade promised me the world. Just last week, he bought me a 5 carat pink diamond tiara, because in his words, ‘You are my Queen’.
He promised me so much, hey, chai, Tade promised me marriage.

We got into her car. It was the 2013 range rover sports. Lil-Wayne’s ‘I feel like dying’ echoed out of her CD player.
Ha, Mood.

‘You don’t have to cry over a man. Just sit, plan and execute a revenge’. The woman said, with her eyes fixated on her steering. She was driving on 130km/h speed limit.

‘Gangster Mama’ I joked to myself.

She adjusted her gaze to me, shook her head then kept on….

‘I’m a 43 years old single mother with 3 Ex husbands. I haven’t been lucky with men. But I met someone that swept me off my feet. Even though he was 16years younger, James made me feel like a Baby.
I got pregnant for him, broke the news to him. We celebrated like we had just won a lottery. The next day, he was gone. He took half the money I owned. Well, I shared everything with him. So he knew his way around’

‘I don’t feel like going home, can we go some place to talk? I interrupted.

‘Sure, I have a bar. Lets talk over drinks.

‘Welcome madam’, ‘Welcome Madam’. The staffs kept hailing, as we walked in.

She got us two drinks and she continued her gist, (Which I wasn’t really interested in). I just wanted my Tade.

‘Its been four years now. This happened in the states. My investigators gave me some info about him leaving here. So I moved back home.
Apparently, he has been spending my money on some wretched Unilag girl’.

I didn’t hear the next words that followed from her mouth.
I saw someone, someone I would have recognized even in my sleep if he didn’t look filthier than the broom on his hand. He was dripping with sweat and panting heavily.

‘Tade?! Tade?! What are you doing here? I asked as I jumped on my feet, walking anxiously towards him.

‘Is this your Tade? The fat woman asked.

‘Yes, this is him. I replied,

‘Well, this is my James’. She retorted,  almost immediately.

‘So you are the little witch he has been spending my money on, see the way God works’ She screamed at the top of her voice.

I was dumbfounded, lost, confused. It felt like a nollywood script.

‘You are still staring at me ehn!’ She shouted as she tried to hit me.

Her hand was stopped mid-air as Tade held it up with clear consent in his eyes.

‘Don’t you dare hit my Queen. Your issue is with me’ He muttered, breathlessly.