An un-Easter-ful Easter.
Today has to be the most un-Easter-ful Easter Sunday I ever experienced in the whole twenty-three years I had been opportuned to exist for.
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At exactly midnight when the sea of congregation roared with violent chants of “Alleluia!” prompted by the energetic priest who hustled from one edge of the pulpit to another, the screen of my phone lit up with a text sent by an ID with a foot emoji.
There was this thing I and Wilbur, my boyfriend of five years, did— don’t mind the name; he wasn’t all that fancy. When we met up, which wasn’t often (ours was more of a virtual relationship due to the distance wedged between us after his NYSC enlistment) we had a question and answer session which was filled by laughter and giggles and always ended with a question of “What part of my body do you like the most?” tossed at me.
My answer was always quick and final. “Your feet,” I had said again and again. Sometimes he grimaced, sometimes he was generous enough to spare me a forced smile. If he wanted more or a different answer, he never said.
I loved his feet. They were always so moisturised and well-groomed that I was tempted to suck his toes whenever they came across my line of sight.
One day after he had asked and my answer was same, he took my phone from the edge of his waxed dwarf mahogany centre table. He unlocked it (of course he knew my password) and pressed on.
My interrogation of what he busied himself with did not stretch on. I asked once and broke into giggles forced out of me by the seriousness his strong features formed. My phone housed nothing incriminating so I relaxed my legs on his laps waiting for his momentous reveal.
After a moment of typing and sliding he faced my screen to me to see his masterpiece. He had replaced the three beating hearts emojis I saved his contact with with a brown foot emoji.
I had grinned so hard out of sheer satisfaction and admiration and unbound happiness just as I did as I read his “Happy Easter B” message in church. Barely a minute later another text came through. “We need to talk”.
At first my heart lurched in my chest in fright. That was the prompt of every breakup after all. Then I remembered all the good times we had lately and the glaring hints at marriage he threw at me every once in a while and my heart relaxed.
My claps became vigorous and I did not mind the stares that followed my abrupt break into unmastered dance steps. I was not too young to be wived given as I was already living my final years in the university. “This Easter must be the best thing that ever happened to me,” I thought.
Mass lasted four extra hours— way more than I anticipated— but I forgave the priest for the delay because most of the time my head was stuck in the clouds fantasizing and refantasizing about married life.
I called Wilbur and he missed it but I would not let myself relent. On the third ring of my fifth try, he picked and the rough, thick timbre of his voice came through.
“I got your text. Thanks babe. I hope you get to enjoy your Easter celebration,” I said. “Would you be coming back for the holiday, away from your place of primary assignment?” I caught myself reaching for a strip of grass and shook out of the trance.
“We would get time off but it'll be a little over the Easter period so I was planning on applying for an early leave. I have something I would love to discuss with you.” His voice was clear now, deep still but clear of every form of grogginess caused by sleep.
“I saw your other message. What's up?” I could hear the increased pitch of my voice even as I breathed heavily with every trudge up the stony hill away from the church premises.
“Are you okay B? I can hear your heavy breathing. Should I call back later?” he said.
“Are you trying to change the subject?” I asked with sarcasm.
“Ha-ha Julia, ha-ha!” I swear I felt his beam at this exact moment. “Well I was thinking…”
“Yes Wilbur?” I encouraged when he let silence stretch between us.
“I think we should break up,” was all I heard him say before I met myself tumbling down the small hill from a missed step.
“What was that?” he asked when I landed on my side with a crash.
“I fell. You just said you wanted to break up with me,” I rushed out as I got off the ground with a slight push.
“I was thinking. Can I call you later to discuss this? It doesn't seem like now is a great time for this.”
“Chukwuemeka, o buru ngwuregwu kwushi ya,” I warned in vernacular. My mum always said that when things became too serious, English would not be enough to handle the situation. That was the moment. English didn't just seem adequate to convey my emotions and exact thoughts. He had to stop this too-expensive joke please.
“Can I call back?” Wilbur persisted.
“No! You can't call me back. You want to break up with me on Easter after you sent me ‘Happy Easter B’? How in hell am I meant to have a happy Easter knowing five years meant entirely nothing to you? What the hell Wilbur? Jesus Christ!” I felt my limbs tremble maybe from anger or fright— or both— but I could not let it get to my voice that had lost its softness.
“I will call you back Julia. This clearly isn't the time.” He hesitated before hanging up.
I stood there dumbstruck and hurting from my fall, the stares of passersby being the least of my worries. My head felt saturated. The situation was so surreal that I could bet with my life that I was having a nightmare as I dozed off on a bench somewhere in the church.
I practiced breathing exercises and found my way to the university’s hostel where I stayed but the night was about to get even more frustrating because tell me why the entrance I was promised would be open when I got back locked. Everything took a turn for the worst and although my hopes were up that I was having a bad dream, it was terribly exhausting.
Without many choices, I sat on the cold heavy metal bench that mounted the front just outside the hostel. As I folded myself into a ball to prevent the awful cold from stinging my core, I felt the appeal of sleep. When I had stayed watch enough to know I was safe outside, I drifted off to sleep.
The loud clinking of metals against each other invaded my slumber and woke me up. The sky, a deep purple, was without stars nor a moon and seemed to exude sadness. My digital clock read 6:00 a.m. as I switched on my phone and ignoring how early it was, I called Wilbur's line.
He picked on the third ring, voice clear as day as he greeted me.
“Babe you won't believe the strangest dream I had,” I said sounding a little too excited. “I was on my way back from Mass when I called and you tried to break up with me…over a phone call. How crazy is tha—”
“It wasn't a dream Julia,” he interrupted me. “I was going to request leave and come discuss this. The text was just a heads up of sorts.” I could sense the self-accusation in his voice but I did not want to make it go away so easily for him.
“So what you're saying is…this isn't an early joke in preparation for an even bigger joke to be pulled tomorrow being April Fools day? This has nothing to do with April Fools day?” I asked him.
“Julia please calm—”
“And I didn't just have a dream where you broke up with me? It's all real?”
There was no answer but I kept listening.
“Yes,” he finally said with a generous whoosh of air from his mouth, “that’s exactly what I'm trying to tell you. But it's not exactly the big deal you make it look like—”
I hung up on him, I was not up for a gaslighting session especially not from someone who just squashed years and years of planning like it was nothing.
As I tried processing everything the purple of the sky brightened into a blue that looked happy with the hopeful rise of sunlight in it, the direct opposite of what I felt. The sky again changed to a darker hue of blue— it looked moody— then there was a drizzle and almost immediately, the rain began to pour. This one matched my mood and I let myself get drenched.
Some girls flooded the street, jumping up and down as they held hands and enjoyed the downpour with wide smiles and I bet lively exchanges of “Happy Easter!” among themselves because every once in a while each one leaned to a different person and said something. I felt like a misfit domino piece, mourning while everyone rejoiced.
Misfortunes came in threes, they said. Those were my fair share. Others had their hearts patched up by the news of resurrection while I had mine shattered by a death coupled with dirty clothes as evidence of a series of odd events.
Hello Lovelies! Tell me your thoughts on this one. I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoy the read.
