It’s been a year now since I saw Nicholas and I felt proud of myself for the first time, I have moved on; well I thought I did until I got a phone call that stopped my heart.
I was looking through some papers that day in my office and my phone rang. “Argh I should have put this on vibration.” I groaned and picked up. “Hello.” I said reluctantly.
“Chidinma?” A familiar voice asked.
“Speaking.” I replied.
“Um, I don’t know how to start, but please forgive me. I can explain what happened.”
I froze instantly, wait a minute; that voice, that accent, it can’t be.
“Why are you calling me Nick?” I snapped.
“Well I just got to Nigeria and I wanted to know how you’re doing, I need to see you.”
I laughed, “You are so unbelievable. Can you just listen to yourself? You dumped me a year ago and now you call and say ‘I just got to Nigeria and I wanted to know how you are doing, I need to see you.’” I mimicked him.
“I know I was a dollop head, but I swear I can explain.” Even in anger I still loved his Irish accent.
I sighed “I’m very busy today Nick, I have a lot of work to do. Bye!” I was about hanging up.
“Please, please don’t hang up. Can I at least know how you are doing?”
I smiled in annoyance. “Are all men this stupid? Do you think I will stay miserable for the rest of my life? FYI I’m doing great, better than I was with you.”
“You know, I actually never dumped you, that’s why we need to talk… I miss you Chidinma.”
“Just save your breath!” I really wanted to hang up this time, but I found myself restraining.
“Please, in the name of the love we once shared, let’s meet up somewhere.”
“That love doesn’t exist anymore Nick; in fact it never existed.” I hung up.
I looked back several months ago, six weeks after Nicholas left and something tickled my eyes; Tears.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?” A sister at church asked, I had fainted during the choir practice on Saturday, and was rushed to the church’s clinic.
“I don’t know. I’ve been feeling all nauseous these past few days, in fact I almost threw up my intestines this morning.” I replied “I think I’m sick” I added.
The doctor came into the room where I laid. “Sister Chidinma, the result of the test I took on you showed that you are eight weeks pregnant.” He handed me a paper.
A bomb exploded in my head. “How come? How did that happen?” The sister asked surprised.
“How else does it happen?” The doctor asked rhetorically and left.
A week later I had an excruciating pain, lying in a pool of blood. “My baby.” Was all I kept saying while neighbours rushed me to the hospital.
**** **** ***** **** *****
Two months passed and Nicholas never stopped sending SMS or calling me, I also never moved a finger.
“A man is here to see to see you madam.” My secretary said.
I gestured for her to let him in, I looked up from my computer and found Nicholas standing before me.
“How did you know I work here?” I was shocked.
“It doesn’t matter, what really matters is that I finally found you.”
He looked unusually sad and I felt pity for him. The Nicholas I knew was always full of life, he always had a charming smile and he never took life too seriously. Was I the cause of this change? I felt bad.
Benedicta A. Lawrence is a young Nigerian writer who is a lover of art and nature. She is an aspiring sociologist; artist and life coach. Born in Lagos state; she is an undergraduate in the prestigious Osun State University.