To Love.

Joseph looked in the mirror that morning and hated the sight of himself. He was nothing like he used to be in his high school days. Joseph Kweke, the fine boy. The one the girls loved and the guys wanted to be. He looked like a really faded copy of himself. He had fought with the world and was bbeaten.His black hair had turned yellow with dirt and his eyes were bloodshot. His palms, palms that had held the bottoms of the prettiest girls, now carried bags of cement and sand. The world was rough.

As he bit open a satchet of water and thoroughly washed his face that morning, he decided he wouldn't have his bath. What was the point in bathing and dressing up in the morning and looking like a filthy rag after work? He would not waste his time bathing. With a chewing stick in his mouth and a dirty torn paper bag in his hand, he set off for work.

The company he worked for did not pay him well. He called it a company despite the fact that it was an uncompleted bungalow because he had dreamt of working in a company since childhood, and he wouldn't let life play with his dreams like that. So whether life liked it or not, he worked for a company. He was paid little, but he didn't have much responsibilities either. With no wife or kids, his only responsibility was himself. Had his father not disowned him a year ago? 

He didn't think he owed his father a thing. To him, his father was a wicked man and the most bitter man he knew. How could his father disown him because he stole some money? He was sure his father had money. Even though Pa was retired, was he not paid his pension at the end of every month? Who else was Pa saving his money for, when he was the only son? He shook his head in an attempt to push thoughts of his father away. The old man would not ruin his morning. 

When he saw Blessing on his way to work that morning, he forgot for a second the rift between them and wanted to take her in his arms. She looked stunning, his Blessing, but she frustrated him like a bone stuck on the throat.

"Why you dey look me? You never see me before?" She spit the words out and he watched her roll her eyes at him. 

She amused him sometimes but he knew he made the right decision for her, for both of them. She was 18, too young to be a mother. And he was a broke 23 year old, too broke to afford even toothpaste. She had been passionate about keeping the child, but he knew better. It was one thing to be pregnant and another to be a mother. So he made her abort it and watched in silence as she packed out of his house. She was way too immature, dammit.

"Blessing come na. Shebi you know I did what was best for you and me? We don't have money. If you give birth to a child, how do we take care of it?" He asked, his eyes in direct contact with hers.

"Jojo God would have provided. He gives children and he will take care of them"
"Blessing you still don't get it, do you? I'll come to the house and see you. When I get back from work we'll talk."

She said an inaudible "no" and stormed out, but Joseph was not surprised when he got back from work and met her lying on her bed, waiting. She loved him too much, she cared too much. She was God's gift to him, his Blessing.

Her room scented of native spices and steamed meat. She had cooked for him, and it was about to be his first real meal since she left. He missed her, how she always had things planned, always had surprises for him. She knew he had nothing, but she kept his stomach full. He didn't know how she did it, and he didn't think it mattered.. what mattered to him was that she never starved him, of food and of sex.

Their conversation that night was short. He knew her anger evaporated when she saw him, but he also knew something had changed. She went to bed that night fully clothed, condoms in her palms. She wouldn't let him touch her without one even though he begged like his life depended on it. He would never use a condom. He had never, he had never felt the need.

Sleep was far from him on that night. He watched her peaceful sleep and he felt his heart rage. Who did she think she was? He was staying up late, sex starved, and she was sleeping like a baby. She was being selfish. She was wrong and he would correct her.

Blessing felt slaps on her cheeks and jerked to conciousness. He was on top of her, his fingers digging deep into her underwear. She wanted to scream, to find out what had come over him and to pray for him, but his heavy palm covered her mouth and she seemed helpless underneath him. She didn't want it, she didn't want to be pregnant again. She didn't want another abortion, and she didn't want her legs forced apart. 

Her attempts at pushing him off angered him the more. He uncovered her mouth and listened as she cried, she sounded like music, sweet music. She sounded like a Miley Cyrus song.

"Joe you're wicked. You shouldn't have come back. Ah, after all I've done for you. I've tried for you o. Is this how you'll pay me?" But her cries hit a certain part of him, the part that would never stop, the part that was never wrong.

The more she struggled, the more he loved it. He wouldn't stop, he had to go on. To hurt her till he was satisfied. So when her cries got louder and louder, he put a pillow on her face. She was silent now, but her legs fought harder with his. Until she stopped. He was going deeper inside of her now, deeper than he had ever been. Something felt different, something felt better. She was sweeter than she had been all his life. Where had this part of her been?
She was calm when he let go of her, too calm. She wasn't breathing, but he was sure she was just holding her breath. She couldn't die. It wasn't possible. 

He walked into the small room that served as her bathroom and had a good bath. He put his shirt and trousers on, applied some of her perfume, and he left. She would be awake by morning, he was sure of it. He would see her then and apologize to her, she would understand, as always.