Mide’s Abor with Olamide Longe
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“A sensible person would pray to be married in a year and have a baby.”
“Good luck to them. I am having a baby, Francesca. You can’t sway me,” Tejumade stated in a firm tone.
“I think you are certifiable.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry Teju. But, you need another think. Don’t be fooled by the glamorous images of celebrity single mothers that you see and conclude that it is a walk in the park. It isn’t easy or the fun they make it seem. Besides, their world is completely different from ours.”
“I am well aware of our world, that’s the reason, I am sensibly or better put, have been sensibly preparing for it.”
Francesca sighed.
Within a month, Tejumade requested a week off from work to attend to an urgent family matter. She then took off to a resort about three hours drive away and spent the whole week being pampered. She returned to work glowing, with a ring on her third finger.
Her colleagues were shocked when she announced herself newly married. She explained to them and her boss that the urgent family matter was her marriage to her fiancé who lived in Ukraine. He came in and they had a quiet ceremony as advised by their spiritual superiors. She watched their faces as they nodded. They understood the implications of disobeying such counsel.
Her husband had returned to Ukraine.
All relevant documents remained unchanged, until further notice.
Some of them demanded that she treated them to a feast to celebrate. She promised to do so soon.
She and Francesca met on the second day of her return. They talked in the car park of the church after the mid-week service had ended. She’d neglected to inform Francesca that she was going away for a week or that she would return a married woman.
“I’m sorry,” she said, contrite.
“All part of your well-laid plans, I’m sure,” Francesca replied in a sour tone.
“Not really. Still, I apologise.”
Francesca shrugged.
“Fran, please. I need you. Promise me you won’t say a word about it to anyone.”
“Whom would I tell?”
“Well, you may think you are rescuing me and try to enlist mutual friends to assist you.”
“I don’t think I can tell a soul even if I want to.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’m finding it hard to believe myself. I don’t think anyone would believe me. They’d think I’ve lost my mind.”
Tejumade shook her head. “You really do believe single girls don’t get pregnant deliberately?”
Francesca hissed. “I know those that do to get their men to marry them. It then becomes a mistake when the men don’t. I however, haven’t heard of an unattached woman deliberately getting pregnant. If you want a child that badly, why not adopt? There are many miserable children in orphanages looking for a proper home.”
Tejumade studied her friend. She was glaringly unhappy. Tejumade felt bad. They have been friends since secondary school and lived a thousand lives together. She hugged her.
“Don’t be sad. I am all right.”
Francesca hugged her back.
“I’ll think of adopting after I have mine,” Tejumade stated in the hope of getting a smile. She failed.
At night in her bed, Tejumade wondered about the intensity of Francesca’s feelings. Was she feeling left behind? Could that be what ailed her?
When they met again, Tejumade told her, “When the baby comes, you will be its godmother.”
Francesca only shook her head.
Tejumade knew with a certainty that escaped explanation that she had Francesca’s full support, even if she was struggling to digest her decision.
Six months later, Tejumade suffered her first bout of morning sickness. It was so bad she was given the rest of the day off.
Francesca visited her later in the evening. She was overwhelmed. She asked Tejumade who she had convinced to be foolish enough to be part of her scheme.
Tejumade did not say.
“What you have done is going to backfire and hurt you, I am afraid.”
“I feel terrible at the moment because I can’t keep anything down,” Tejumade replied. “But, I am at peace with my decision. Perfect peace, if there is anything like it. And, I will beg you to say only positive things around me henceforth. For the baby’s sake.”
… continues next week
