[STORY] MY SPIRITUAL WIFE (Episode 10)

Episode 10.

My stepmother’s loud cry woke us up that morning. Apparently, she had woken up to prepare her “beloved” children for school only to discover that James was not responding to her call. She’d gone closer to “shake” him, hoping that he was only sleeping but his overly cold lifeless body delivered the heart shattering message.
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My stepmother wept like I’d never seen her cry before. She was busy rolling from one end of the house to the other. It was obvious that James’s death hit her hard. She has always had a special likeness for the boy. No doubt, losing James to the cold hands of death really did “a number” on her; It’d hit her differently.
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For six straight months, my stepmother didn’t go a day without crying. Everything seemed to remind her of James, which makes her cry even more.
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Everytime friends; family and church members came over to our house on condolence visits, my stepmother never failed to lament to them on how cruel the world had been to her. She consistently built lies on top of lies in her stories about her love for “us”, her children.

“What have I done to deserve this kind of cruelty? Ehn? What? I am kind hearted. I try to be a very good Christian. I am not just one that attends church, I try to be a practicing Christian. I love my neighbor as myself and never, not even in the slightest of ways do I wish evil for another woman’s child. Why is heaven’s name should God allow the evil eye to befall my household like this? Why James? How could death not have taken me instead? How can I be burying my children one after the other? Who have I wronged na?” My stepmother would always lament.
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Everytime she was on with these anthem, people who’d come visiting, would usually take turns in patting her back, throwing words of encouragement at her. They’d try to remind her that this was only a trying time in her life and that she needed to be steadfast in prayers to overcome.

My stepmother would usually thank them for their kind words but once they were gone, resume crying again.
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My stepmother barely even noticed that I was living in the same house (during this period).

This made me free; very happy.
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For the first time in “NEVER”, I wake up and go about my daily routines like every other normal child my age.

But just like every other thing in life, the peace of mind I enjoyed was only momentarily.

Soon, the emotions that came affiliated with the loss of James gradually began to wear off.

We got to a point where James was only sometimes made reference of in “certain” conversations and even at that, the sadness that followed was no longer as depressing.
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As though my stepmother knew something; as though she’d sensed that I might have had a hand in everything that was going on in her life, she tried as best as she could to avoid me, completely. I could see how very difficult it was for her to allow certain things slide but she seemed not to have a choice every time she’d had to.
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Bofore now, I’d overheard a conversation between my stepmother and pastor Isaac (after Sunday service).

Pastor Isaac advised my stepmother to be kind to me.

“Take that young man as your own, sister Ireti, and the good lord will never forsake you; He’ll put a smile back on your face again in no time. You see, our battle is of the lord, but before the lord takes up his armor and shield to defend us against evil schemes, we need to have been faithful to him in our own right or at least, be a work in progress towards achieving closure in his sight. The evil that has befallen your household is not ordinary. Familiar spirits are at work. If you want to see the face of the lord manifest in your life, you have to be righteous in your own right, sister Ireti. I don’t know what you have been doing to that boy that you ought not to, but the lord says I should tell you to stop; to turn a new leaf with him.”

Pastor Isaac prayed with my stepmother afterwards, before he departed.
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Four months later, my face was to be buried between my stepmother’s warm laps.

The firmness in this grip, was with precision.
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With a razor blade in one hand and pounded pepper smeared in another, my stepmother was supposedly about to teach me a lesson, one I was never to forget.
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Apparently, her fifty naira was missing, and I was the only verified thief, living in her house.

Besides, shebi I once told her that I frequently found money in my school bag?

Money she’d assumed were stashes from her money I must have stolen.
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Not everyone is capable of complete repentance after all.

To be continued…

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