I hope your weekend has been pleasant so far.
Today, I will be sharing an excerpt from the newly released sequel to Dear Obajimi, aptly titled “Dear Morenike.” Dear Obajimi is an epistolary short story narrated through a wife’s letters to her husband, while Dear Morenike includes the husband’s letter to his wife. Both stories are set in Lagos, Nigeria.
Dear Morenike: Excerpt
A Husband’s Letter to His Wife
I warned you.
We both know the truth: this is not the first time I’ve left you. It has happened before, more than once, before we got married. The only difference is that this time, I’m not coming back.
You can’t threaten me with sending so-called incriminating letters to my relatives. In fact, you shouldn’t have said that because that door swings both ways. I can do the exact same thing: send this letter to all your relatives. But that’s not my style. No. Firing personal letters to all corners of the globe so that anyone who can read will know why our marriage went south is not a Jimi move.
Which begs the question: why am I, Obajimi, writing you a letter? Here’s the short answer: Morenike, you left me no choice.
You have gone everywhere, telling people that I abandoned you, labeling me as the villain in our story. If I am the villain, then that makes you the victim, right? That’s not fair. It is not fair for people to jump to conclusions without ever hearing my side of the story. And that is one of the reasons why I am writing this letter to you.
Another reason? Oh yes. For the past two weeks, I have persistently tried to get in touch with you to no avail. I have been to the house, our former home, but the gateman, the man whose salary I paid for months, refused to let me in. He even had the audacity to tell me that I was no longer allowed in that compound. Obviously, he was acting on your instructions. Don’t even try to deny it, Morenike because this has your name written all over it. That vindictiveness is a classic Morenike move.
Why won’t you answer my calls? The moment you hear my voice on the other end of the line, you hang up. Even my parents have been denied access to you, Morenike.
So you have reduced me to writing a letter, something I haven’t done since our university days. Back then, things were different. I wrote you love letters, which you never replied.
Remember those days? The days when you played hard to get and I tripped over myself, pulling out all the stops just to win your heart. Morenike, you were the prize that for the longest time was absolutely unattainable, forever out of my reach.
Until the day you gave in.
Do you remember what I told you the first week we started dating? Let me refresh your memory. I said:
“Morenike, I’m not the marrying type.”
And you said: “Yeah right. We’ll see about that.”
You thought I was joking, but I was serious. I never hid who I was from you. So, you can’t pretend at this stage that you’re a victim. You knew my reservations concerning marriage and yet you still said “I do” to me.
By the end of this letter, I want you to decide who the victim is: you, me or neither of us. Yes, “neither of us” is a plausible option.
Since my calls and attempts to see you have been met with rejection, I have come to this conclusion: the only way to reach you and explain myself is to use the same coping mechanism you used when you thought I was missing.
I’ll write you a letter.
*End of Excerpt*
If you prefer to read these stories on your favorite e-book reader, please see the links below:
Have a great rest-of-the-weekend!