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I dropped the phone, I did not yell. I only heard the voice of mama coming back to me  ‘There are more behind smiles’. So I had been a mistress all these years. 

Mama comes back to me, those words I had taken too lightly echoing  with slaps fastening my jaws closely as nuts.

‘There are more behind smiles’

When Kunle’s smiles come it’s as rain and am like a sun-perched ground excepting its arrival for years. It unbolts the doors of my pores, breaking every hedges as adder, the poisonous fang paralyzing my resolution, strength and heart from discernment; edging mostly the space for my mother. And no matter what she tries to enter I rap her back. And when I did I cling to it as she sprawl as stoles on the floor crying. She’s uncivilized I had thought.  Telling him Kunle’s smile is the love.

She sees the Lincoln-limousine he romps with? International friends’ metallic to the toes he associates with?  No, she sees them not I had thought. But I never cared about what she sees. In his eyes she says she sees duplicity. And I ignored the view of bland eyes to her death. And when she dies two years later after I married Kunle he proved mama right.

Our Anita was crawling along the hallway that had become mine for the three months Kunle had been out for an international conference in Kumasi Ghana when the phone rang. Trusting it’s him for months now, I sped back to the room we shared and just behind Anita’s blue cot I picked the phone.

‘am inspector Korede, I have no time, if am calling anyone who knows a Mr. Kunle Obaola  I regret to announce he’s been stabbed to death by his wife who can’t stand the truth he’s abhorring a mistress’

I dropped the phone, I did not yell. I only heard the voice of mama coming back to me  ‘There are more behind smiles’. So I had been a mistress all these years.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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