A Sigh of Relief

When Aunty Obi found herself a man, the house thundered with the bass of her voice and the rhythmic stamping of her feet. She sang praises to the Most High and danced. “Thank you, Lord for sending me a man. A good man.” She sang. Her face which was usually drawn tight with frowns was now beaming with smiles, her voice ringing with laughter. I liked the new Aunty Obi, the happy one. I liked what the man had done to her. He made her happy. And I hoped he was here to stay.

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Aunty Obi started living with my mum and I on the dusty streets of Obalende after a series of misfortune. Aunty Obi was forty years old and society expected her to have been married with a wife and kids. But, she had badluck with men and maybe, love. My mum told me that Aunty Obi had loved a man when she was in her twenties and they were planning to get married. The introduction ceremony had been carried out between families and everyone was in high anticipation for Aunty Obi to get married. But two months before their wedding, he died in a plane crash and not long after, Aunty Obi lost their baby in a miscarriage.

When all this happened to her, Aunty Obi’s way of coping with grief was throwing her all into her fabrics shop. She invested all her time, efforts and money into it. Her hopes, dreams and happiness was based on it and her fabrics shop thrived. But, as if life was bent on breaking her, a huge fire gutted her shop and the other shops beside it. I would never forget the way she was rolling in the dust, tearing at her hair, wailing that she had lost everything. My mum and I picked her up that day and she had lived with us ever since.

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When Aunty Obi decided to put herself back on the dating market, she was 35. I guess she finally decided to move on from the grief she had carried in her chest the past years. But, I'm not sure she ever truly moved on. Grief is love without a place to go and she would always carry that lost love for her dead husband and her child that was never born.

The first man Aunty Obi met when she went back to dating was a harbinger of sadness, a scoundrel and a thief.

“See his picture. Is he not fine?” She asked as she passed the phone to my mother. I scurried over to my mother's side, so I could get a glimpse of the man Aunty Obi had snagged. He was a chocolate skinned, fully bearded man. He had full pink lips and brown lightless eyes. I didn't like the look in his eyes. There was no twinkle in them. But he was truly handsome.

“Ahan, he’s fine ohh.” My mum acquiesced and I found myself nodding in agreement.

“I thought so. Cause my eyes always seek fine fine things.” She chuckled.

“But he looks young. Younger than you.” My mum added, voicing out the thoughts I had in my head.

“He’s just three years younger than me. There's nothing wrong with that. Remember, my friend Veronica?? Her husband is seven years younger than her and they are happy.” She retorted. Well, my mum couldn't argue with that because she knew the Veronica and she had a husband that doted on her, although young.

“Hmmm,” My mother sighed, “But, do you like him?” She continued.

“I like him. A lot.” She affirmed.

“Then it's settled. When is he coming to see us? My mum wagged her eyebrows.

“Sister, calm down. What's the rush?” Aunty Obi laughed.

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“He ran away. He ran away with my money ohh.” Aunty Obi wailed. Her legs shook in anguish and her hands failed in cleaning her tears. My mum’s arm was around her and I was sitted on her other side, gently patting her back.

“What do you mean by he ran away with your money? Which money?” My mum inquired. Aunty Obi sniffled.

“He said he was coming to see our family next month. And he said he needed to show up in style but he needed money for that. He said he was going to marry me.” Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks as she rocked back and forth.

“He said I should borrow him 400,000 naira so he could make arrangements when coming. It was the money I was gathering to start a new shop. But I didn't see a reason not to borrow him. I thought we would soon become one anyway and it wouldn't matter. But now, I can't find him anywhere. I can't find him anywhere.”

My mother looked at me and the sadness hung heavy in the air. My Aunty Obi had been broken again. I went over to her and hugged her tightly, like I could gather up the pieces of her broken heart and make them whole.

“It is well.” was the only thing I could say.

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“Do you think this one will stay?” I asked my mum as she braided my hair.

“We can only hope and pray. There's not much else we can do. She's happy and she's sure about him.” My mum answered.

“Like she was sure about the last one?” I wanted to protect my aunt from fresh sadness and heartbreak. I didn't want to see her fragile and broken.

“Oma, don't say that.” My mum scolded. So, I kept my lips shut as she applied coconut oil to my hair.

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Uncle Tony proposed to my Aunt Obi right in our living room. He was every inch the good man my aunt said he was. He was handsome, a few years shy of 50 and he had a daughter my age. He had lost his wife to cancer and had been a widower for some years but he met Aunty Obi and he fell straight in love with her. When I saw him for the first time, I knew he was the one. He would stay with my aunt and love her through thick and thin. And i easily bonded with his daughter, Blossom.

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“I do.” Uncle Tony answered the officiating priest. He only had eyes for my beautiful smiling Aunty Obi and I could see a tear slip down my mother's face. I could feel my own eyes watering too. My Aunty Obi would have her happy ever after finally. It was a sigh of relief.