LABYRINTHS - ELEVEN

Just as I got to the gate I heard the sound of a Benz, and it was Abbey. Quite early!

                “Hey lady!” I hollered as she wound down the glass to talk. “Pretty early!” I said.

                “Wasn’t actually doing anything out there!”

Maybe that was true, but that wasn’t all. Wasn’t it also a possibility that she couldn’t wait?

                “I see!” I said with a mischievous grin.

                “By the way, are you just returning since the afternoon?”

                “It’s not like this is sooo... evening already! It’s barely 4:30... Yeah, I just took my time... to see the town... Did a lot of walking...”

                “Aight. Let’s go in.”

                “After you, babe!”

She drove in and waved at Zuma. I went and opened her door and hugged her as she emerged from the car. I kissed her.

                “Welcome home sweetie,” I said.

                “Thanks a bunch. It’s never felt so good to be home, you know!”

                “Ah dunno ‘bout that, baby. Ah really don’t,” I said, smiling.

I put my hand around her as we walked into the house. Inside, I set her down on a couch, and took off her shoes. I tilted her head backwards to rest on the sofa. Then,

                “What will you drink, ma’am? Wine, water, or juice? If you ask me, I’d say juice!”

                “Juice,” she said, smiling at my acting.

                “Juice coming right up, sweetie!”

I disappeared into the kitchen and re-emerged with a glass of yellow juice.

                “Thanks honey,” she said as she took the glass.

                “You’re welcome sweetie. Know what, you take that and relax for ten minutes, before embarking on the arduous journey upstairs; then, get in the bathtub and rejuvenate yourself, okay? It’s gonna be a beautiful evening.”

                “Will do!” she said, as I left for my room.

                Only a few hours earlier I’d spoken with my mom, but now it felt like such a long time. Not like I was her pet or anything but... whenever I sensed that I was on the wrong tracks of life I felt so distant from home – from the ideals of my modest family. Women in foreign lands had always been the undoing of young Nigerian men. Now here I was getting entangled with two: double trouble! It was a saying of my people that, a poison that would kill a dog first kills its sense of smell. I hid my misdemeanour under the cover of stupid therapy... that probably existed nowhere in the world. One could be self-tutored, but not to practice his learning on an enlightened society individual. I was sure Abbey really didn’t believe in the whole psycho thing... she was just delighted to have this sublime companionship... this... this... this lie... this deceit; we were living together and screwing and said we were doctor and patient? Please! In forty thousand years of human language there was still no word to describe our grotesque affiliation.

Isabelle got it right: call a spade a spade... but if you say this spade isn’t a spade, then come over and get with me! And I was stalling... because I knew the truth. I was living dangerously. Taking liberties with women, more often than not, boomerang. How could anyone embark on a field of study that deals only with women? At different times I’d asked my brother in medical school what aspect of the medical profession he’d like to specialise on. He’d said paediatrics at one time, orthopaedics at another time and then surgery later... The day I said to him, ‘what about gynaecology?’ he flashed me a rebuking glance as if to say ‘Never!’ I saw no reason why he should rule that fine option out. Was he scared of women? As for me, women fascinated me. That was why I could assign years to studying women and their many issues. That was why I didn’t mind a profession that dealt exclusively with women. The male gender is shallow. There’s not much to a man. A man is either good or bad, simple! When he’s good, he’s either a faithful follower of a course greater than himself, or simply a moralist that determines his own actions; and when he’s bad, he’s either a criminal or a wicked man. Because a man is shallow he’s very easily cornered... he can’t hide under many masks... he tries to fight back and is eventually subdued, or he goes into shock and dies of heart failure. A woman on the other hand is deep. She goes beyond just t being good or bad. There’s often consummate badness in her goodness as well as glimmers of goodness in her badness. So she’s slippery and can’t be figured out easily... can’t be cornered. It’s similar to lions in the jungle; most males live short, violent lives. But, coup after coup, the females remain. When man comes to attack woman with vehemence she dangles her sensuality before him, and he melts like wax. Because one never has enough sex... can’t say you’ve already seen enough of that and can’t be moved; a woman works it in such a way that you’re moved, again. There’s a profound darkness around the subject of sex... there always has been. I didn’t mind dwelling on the subject of woman for as long as it took to shed a little more light. But as I sailed and deluded myself that I was becoming a better shrink, I was confronted by the profound dark sides every day. Like... we settle at knowing how something works, how it moves, and not why... never why! Why? The most fundamental question! I’d learned of a few hows – how they think, how they react to situations, how they love... never why. Never!

                Some questions have no answers. If I sat here questioning my motives then the whole thing might probably burst up like an iridescent soap bubble under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. I had to snap out of it and go check on Abbey. There was a saying attributed to the British writer, Hannah More thus: ‘Life is a short day; but it is a working day. Activity may lead to evil, but inactivity cannot lead to good’. I was active. The greater part of what I was doing... was good. I was sure.

                I fetched my lap top to review what signs I was banking on to know I’d come to the end of the live-in part of the therapy. My Documents – The Scheme... double click... down to page seven; sub-heading EXPECTED OUTCOMES....

1.         The excessive libido will wane or reduce considerably.

2.        Client will begin to ask more questions about any activity.

3.        Client will begin to feel and succumb to the pressures of friends and/or colleagues.

4.       Client will be overtly inquisitive, and reserved at the same time.

5.        Client will become less aware that it is a therapy and not a mundane emotional affiliation.

6.       Client may hate to do so, but will kick you out if friends fault your intentions and pressure her to get rid if you.

7.        Client may end up NOT paying for your services – you ought to have invented a way to get your money before now.

8.       Client will become a harder nut to crack when a sexual aim is pursued.

9.       ULTIMATE AIM: Client should be able, and very ready to resist bullshit.

  NOTE: Whatever happens, keep the cops out; and if and when the need arises, RUN!

                Of course these were merely expected outcomes; the actual outcomes may be different. The notes further down advise on how to handle variances.

So far, none of these expected outcomes had begun to play out, so I decided we needed to embark on a sex marathon in the following days... starting from tonight. I’d go to the office and screw her hard... so she’d be a nuisance to folks around; I’d make myself a nuisance too around her, just so she’d muster the courage to say enough was enough. I’d screw her in the car, at home, at outings, morning and night – every day onwards. I’d break whatever walls or barriers there were! Sex until we lost steam... until we were exhausted and gasped frantically for breath... till we tired of it and sought a break.... My failure to achieve this would mean her success – success of the therapy... then I could be ready to go in peace, a victor. Because she would now look beyond sex and search for its attendants... like... with whom? What positions – hope not dehumanizing ones? Under what circumstances? Is it necessary? How frequently? She had to come to this stop so I’d know it was time to disentangle. She had to be choosy, and act like there be some propositions that are simply out of the question. In the near future she was to even fault her acceptance of a total stranger into her house without a vital reason.

It hardly meant that Abbey was a fool in her current state. Far from it! It meant that she was like an angel – too good to be true. She needed toughening... in order to thrive in the world of men... or she’d always find herself hurting. I believed angels passed by the earth, either running errands or so, and maybe got stuck. They didn’t know how to return... didn’t want to... because they fell in love with the world of men... Reminiscent of William Cory’s Mimnermus in Church:

You promise heavens free from strife,
Pure truth, and perfect change of will;
But sweet, sweet is this human life,
So sweet, I fain would breathe it still;
Your chilly stars I can forgo,
This warm kind world is all I know...

It became queer to have the basic angelic quality: innocence. Hence, some could be found who need a hand to help them shed their innocence. That was how Abbey appeared to me.

                Stepping out of my room, I noticed the house was very quiet. Not like it was anything new; but I just wondered where Abbey might be. Perhaps in the kitchen... for dinner’s sake? I looked in there but found her not. Still in the bathtub... hoping I’d join her? I had to check. I didn’t know if joining her in the bathtub would be going too far. Yeah, we’d had sex... but, intrude on her in the bathroom? I wasn’t comfortable with this. Wouldn’t she be embarrassed? Wouldn’t she yell?  Wouldn’t that damage my shrewd reputation? I approached cautiously... ascended the short flight of stairs with subdued steps. I had to incinerate my doubts out here... so I lingered on the lobby. Once in her sight, I had to wear the assertiveness that had paved my way all these days. I arrived at her door and tapped gently. No answer came. Again. Still no response. I opened the door gently and drifted inside. What did I say! She’d still be in the tub. I walked across to the bathroom door and... ‘tap tap tap!’ No response. I didn’t want to linger at the door this time as if I wasn’t sure of myself, so I opened the door and stepped in. There she was, body immersed in ladder... but her reflective breasts hung above board. Soapy water! Romantic ideas all of its own! This girl had pretty skin... amazing complexion... face like Michelangelo or Da Vinci should rise and paint again... one last time. Just so they don’t miss the opportunity for their masterpieces forever. Pointed nose. Head resting on the tub; eyes shut in sombre appreciation of the peaceful music of silence. Sweet lips... pink, and proffered with wanting. Ironically, I’d have to kiss them to open those eyes. I inched closer and sat by the edge of the tub; lowered my face over hers, and took her lips in mine... and I was lost.

How long? The sweet eyes still shut, I dissolved again into another bout of kissing. Only now did I notice she wasn’t kissing back. What? Was she really sleeping?

                “Sweetie! Sweetie! Sweetie?!”

No answer. No movement.

I tilted her head up a bit....

Damn! What was this!

I shook her vigorously... for where!

                “Abbey?!!!”

Gbege! No be yawa dey gas so!

I put my ear to her chest; something was thumping, but very faintly. God!

I lifted the slippery beauty out of the tub with great difficulty, and towelled her wet body. I went to fish for her undies... forced on her panties, and coaxed her cold, dangling breasts to get in the bra. They complied and I strapped them in... Threw one of her gowns over her, picked her car keys from the top of her bedside drawer, and carried her downstairs.

                “Zuma?!” I was already calling from inside the house. “Quick! Open the gate! Do you know her hospital? Get in the car!”

I hadn’t even opened the car and I was urging someone to get in. I opened it now and lowered her in the back. The gate was open now. I went out in reverse and waited for Zuma to lock up and come get in. He does....

                “Go straight,” he says to me.

And we’re on our way.