Loose Ends (II)- another short story

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A glorious mess

When Dara stepped outside her apartment to the access gate to pick up her delivery, it was a lady still fully kitted in her helmet, biker jacket, biker gloves and even goggles that handed the pack of pizza she had ordered to her.

She was also very polite. “Good afternoon, I trust you are having a great day? You ordered Pepperoni pizza? Please pay here”

When Dara looked down to punch in her Personal Identification Number into the POS machine that she handed to her, she noticed that the slightly plump delivery lady even had bikers boots on.

“Impressive! Who would have thought that delivery services had gone this sophisticated? Only in Lagos” she thought as she gave the lady one last look as though to acknowledge her effort, before hopping off quickly with her package.

She was hungry. She set the package squarely on her makeshift work desk and then opened her refrigerator to fetch a pack of concentrated juice.

She wondered why the expected huge whiff of sizzling cheese smell was taking so long to fill her nostril. But it didn’t take her long to realize why.

When she opened the well packed pizza, she didn’t know how exactly to react. The smell was horrible and the look disgusting. She froze to a point where she could barely breathe. Her small crimson lips parted into an O shape, but no words flowed out.

Right in front of her was a potpourri of slimy, watery feces and what looked like semi-solid remains of soiled mensural pads tucked between the mix.

Dara retched the undigested remains of her dinner, right into the mess.

She suddenly felt light-headed and a bit disoriented.

“Oh my God!” She held her two hands over her mouth as she scurried into her bathroom to clean up.

When she came to her logical self, she left the mess untouched and looked through her window in faint hope that she could see the lady who delivered the package. She heaved deeply as fresh clean air filled her lungs.

Of course, there was no sign of the biker, everywhere seemed just as it should be, quiet and calm.

That was the moment she got angry. She threw the flower vase that adorned her windowpane and her favorite coffee mug at the “Glorious mess” in succession, knocking a colored post-it note drifting slowly to the floor. She couldn’t tell what color the note was before it was soaked in the mess. But she knew she wouldn’t touch it with a ten-mile pole.

Clamping her nostrils with her thumb and index finger, she leaned forward to discern the barely legible words scribbled on the note.

“Fatbabygirl”

*******

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you dear Daddy, happy birthday to you” Sarah and her two kids, still cladded in their pyjamas, chorused in excited voices as they woke Sammy up from sleep with the birthday song.

“This is adorable.” he managed to say, his eyes still heavy with sleep. He got home late the night before and had barely gotten 4hours sleep.

“Happy birthday Daddy!” The two boys hopped into his bed bearing dry kisses. “We love you daddy!”

“You put the poor boys up to this Sarah?” It was more of a mocking accusatory statement that left Sarah grinning from ear to ear.

“I love you baby” the lovers shared a kiss.

“Daddy, come blow your candles. Hurry!”

That was how Sammy started his day, to the loving embrace of his kids and loving wife. They had been married for eight years and there was no love lost between them. Sarah worked from home as an IT specialist and a serial entrepreneur. She sold everything from imported scented candles to designer perfumes and air fresheners.

Because she practiced what she sold, her house smelled like freshly-cut flowers —soft, powdery, and sweet with a hint of creamy. She was a great home keeper, and she ran their house like a clockwork. Their two kids schooled in the best Montessori school in Ikeja, which was within proximity to their semi-detached duplex also set in the luxurious uber-rich neighborhood in the Government Reserved Area, (GRA) in Ikeja.

She had the pleasure of a retinue of house helps – gardeners, cooks, cleaners, and even a graduate driver. She drove a Mercedes Benz and lacked almost nothing.

Sammy on the other hand worked as a top executive in a private equity firm in Victoria Island. He was the Vice President for Africa and the Middle East and so spent a lot of time in transit between several countries. His family could barely keep up with his schedule. One minute he was right there bathed in the soft hues of the morning sun right in bedroom whilst snoring loudly and the next minute he was catching a Private Jet to Dubai for an economic conference with top CEOs in Africa.

He liked to google his name, and every time he did, he liked what he saw. He was well respected in the industry and his name was synonymous with excellence and outstanding success. Life was beyond fair to him.

Although he was in his late forties, he had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks. He was lanky, had a full bearded face that gave him the endearing “sugar daddy” vibes solidified by a pocket full of cash and a charming personality- everything a woman could ever wish for.

He had an athletic build; his muscles were proof that he had overcome the adversity that the pleasures of a comfortable and opulent life afforded him, rather than gain weight in obvious places like his slightly obese wife.

Even though he loved her dearly, she was no longer the glamorous girl he had married. Their sexual life, since they had the two boys, had dwindled like dying candle flames in the wind. He was either too physically and mentally exhausted to respond to her advances or just uninterested.

At first, Sarah found his nonchalance to their sexual life quite worrisome. She couldn’t fathom what had gone wrong. They barely had sex – once in a quarter, could not be considered a healthy sex life.

To spice things up, she joined the local gym within the neighborhood. She stuck to the rigorous routine and put her body through the motions. After the first month, she started missing sessions and she gained all the calories she had labored so hard to lose within days.

It was just too much hard work to stay in shape for Sammy.

She shopped for new and insanely sexy lingerie. She joined more than one online sex class to spice things up within the bedroom, but Sammy was never home long enough to test her newly acquired skills. Soon enough, she resorted to self-help.

She named him “Pablo”– her plastic dildo.

If he wasn’t going to give her some, she was going to sort out her sexual needs by herself, she concluded.

That was when she noticed that Sammy was talking in his sleep. She had stayed up late one night, weeks earlier to finish up a Netflix series that had held her spellbound for weeks, when he started whispering into the pillow.

“Tobe darling, don’t play like that. Come here.”  Sarah turned to look at her husband in shock. She cocked her head to confirm that she heard right.

“Who is Tobe?” she asked herself quietly, as though not to wake him up. She paused her movie, there were more important things than movies right there. No one she ever knew or associated with bore that name.

But Sammy had more to say, he wasn’t quite done.

“Baby, let’s go one more round.” his voice trailed into a faint whisper and slurred gibberish.

“Quickie.” And then he chuckled.

“Bastard!” Sarah spat hot air at her sleeping husband, her mind racing, touching base with possibilities until it concluded, that her husband was cheating on her.

“Bastard!”

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