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When the electronic sound of the alarm clock went off at the strike of five-forty, Perez rolled around to his side, reached out his hand over the bedside table and turned off the rising noise. Then he drew in a lassitude-clearing breath, expelled it and pushed back the linen coverlet.

He got up, did a few quick stretches and made the sign of the cross. Mumbling familiar words of prayer, he strode to the light switch and turned it on. The room was instantly illuminated by the antique crystal chandelier.

It was a large room and exotically furnished. Patchwork, cow-hide white rug and faux zebra rug covered the majority of the polished-wood tiled floor. Cream-and-gold chiffon and silk drapes floated down the double windows and the French door that led out to a small balcony. The warm brown hue of the walls was contrasted by the dramatic purple of the divider wall that led into the mini parlour.

It was a large room; too large for one person. But then it hadn’t been meant for one person—hadn’t been meant for only the one person still sleeping in it.

Perez took off his lavender striped pyjamas top, then the bottom, hung the pair on a clip attached to the side of the white oak four-door wardrobe and with only his boxer shorts on, walked into the bathroom. Less than ten minutes later, he was back in the bedroom, boxer shorts discarded and a towel around his waist.

He dressed with the same careful precision as he’d undressed, putting on one garment after the other with the sombre precision of a monk. Minutes later, he was standing before the mirrored wardrobe door, studying his image.

Today was the sixteenth day of May, twenty-fourteen. It was his birthday and his wedding anniversary. Thirty-six and six.
Did he look it—thirty-six?

His eyes narrowed critically as they examined the image of the lean-built man in navy blue Brooks Brothers wool suit, a white shirt and a black pin-striped tie. The executive suave look was finished with a pair of polished-gleaming black shoes.

He wasn’t sure. He was sometimes tempted to believe that he was aging pretty well, that he did not look his age at all. But there’s been a few grey hairs sprouting up lately. They were scanty yet, not really apparent given his almost skin, low-cut hairstyle. But they were there and he saw them.

He wondered if she saw them. She’d never commented on them. But then she never commented on anything concerning him these days. Feeling the familiar twinge that came with the depressive thoughts he was plagued by these days, he exhaled and stepped away from the mirror.

Today was not a day for depressing thoughts. It was their wedding anniversary. Six years they’ve been together as man and wife. It ought to count for something. Ought to be celebrated, not forgotten or mourned. Many marriages nowadays barely made it through their first year, they’ve survived six. So, it was a special day. He should make it a special day—try to, at least.

He lifted the pink paper wrapped box, studied the nice little bow that went around it. She would have found the pink bow enchanting. She would have cooed and wowed and giggled over its pretty, girly simplicity. She would have carefully un-knotted it and even more carefully, opened the box. That’s what she would have done—in the old days.

Now, he wasn’t even sure if she’d like the gift. Or if she’d treat it like the pack of square-neck, silk scarves he’d given her at Easter, which she’d never worn.

Will she even remember their anniversary? His birthday?

Because the question ignited more unsettling feelings, he hastily slipped the box into the pocket of his pants and picked his nut-brown leather briefcase from the glass top mahogany desk. He strode to the door, turned out the chandelier light and stepped out.

He stopped at the door just after his own, opened and entered their son’s bedroom.

It was a whole lot smaller than their own—his own. Simple and serene in its child-oriented furnishings. She’d decorated it and it was perfect.
He nudged in the slightly ajar door of the bathroom.

“Daddy!” Jesse shrieked in his baby voice. “How are you?”

Perez laughed. A sound of pleasure and pride. He always asked that. It was his way of saying hello or good whatever-time-of-day it was. This was the best part of his day, to look into the face of the one thing that remained perfect and unspoiled between them.

“I’m great. And hope you are too. Did you sleep well?” He squatted and kissed his wet forehead, touching his small oval face tenderly. It was uncanny how much he looked like her.

Jesse giggled and nodded. “Mmm-hmm.”

It was another habit of his—using sounds to replace words. He didn’t talk much, yet.

“Good morning, Uncle.” Nneoma greeted, heaving up to quickly curtsy before returning to her squatting position.

“Morning, Nneoma.” He smiled at the teenage nanny. They’d brought her over when Jesse was just one and her youth made it easier for them to get along. “Do hurry up with that, you know how long it takes him to get through breakfast and be ready for the bus.”

“Yes, Uncle.” Nneoma nodded, sponging Jesse’s arms.

He stepped back as Nneoma picked the hand shower and started to spray water over a wriggling Jesse. “Okay Jess, see you later for cereal time, right?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Jesse bobbed his head, flashing his baby white teeth.

Smiling, he turned and walked out. The melancholy returned as he went down the short flight of stairs. He told himself to relax as he walked through the semi-lit living room and past the just-for-special-occasions dining room, then drew in a long relaxing breath as he pushed open the kitchen door.

As he’d expected, she was there, at the sink, rinsing out a mug. It meant she’d already had her every-morning cocoa. She was wearing a chestnut brown knee-length linen dress that was accessorized with a black-and-white neck scarf. The scarf matched the black pumps on her feet and the clip that held back her hair at the nape. But it wasn’t one from the pack he’d given her.

He felt the twinge, ignored it and focused on the fact that she looked great, as usual. It was a good place to start. “Morning, Lara.” He greeted, smiled.

She cast a glance over her shoulder. “Morning.”

He waited, breath held. She said nothing more, just started drying the mug. He leaned against the round kitchen table and stilled himself against the stab of disappointment.

She hadn’t remembered—not his birthday. Not their anniversary.

But what had he hoped? That she’d greet him with open arms, brandishing gift packages like she used to?

Perez sighed and watched longingly as she moved briskly around the roomy kitchen readying Jesse’s lunch box.

This had once been her private world, her personal space. She had painstakingly equipped it with state of the art kitchen appliances and fixtures. And once-upon-a-time, she had created culinary marvels that had made his mouth water in here. But like the gift packages, they didn’t happen anymore. Not in the last five, six months. She cooked but not with the same pride and passion as she used to.

He deliberately shook off the glum and walked to her side. “Happy anniversary.”

She looked up with a puzzled frown. Then it cleared. “Oh… yes. It’s today, right?” She let out a mild laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t remember.” She reached for the box. “Thank you. And, err, happy birthday.” She smiled.

He allowed the small smile to encourage him. “Thank you.” He murmured, leaning forward. But she shifted her head so quickly that his kiss landed on the edge of her chin. Still, he caught her perfume—subtle, feminine. He was tempted to linger, to caress but her stiff-board stance warned him off, so he stepped back.

“Would you like me to fix you something?” She dropped the box on the marble counter and swept past him towards the refrigerator.

“No, thank you. I’ll just have a cup of tea and maybe a slice of bread.” He strode to the mugs-and-teacups cabinet. “I hope you’ll like the gift. I cracked my head for weeks over this one. You know how helpless I can be when it comes to gifts.” He let out a laugh.

“I guess I will.” She offered a vague smile as she returned with a plastic container of chopped fruits. “Em, there is a staff meeting at eight-fifteen and I want to be there way before time, would you mind helping Jesse with his breakfast and making sure Nneoma gets him to the bus on time?”

“No problem. Will take care of it.” He smiled and sipped his tea.

“Thank you. I’ll go grab my handbag and stuff then” She turned and started towards the door.

“Lara?”

The faintest hesitation, then she stopped and turned. “Hmm?”

He nodded at the counter. “Your gift, you forgot it.”

“Oh yes. How absentminded of me.” She bustled back, picked the box and flashed a faint smile. “Thanks again.”

“I’d like us to do something special this evening—a dinner date, maybe?” He stopped her before she sprinted off again.

A series of emotions swept over her face, then she lifted her shoulders. “Well, I don’t know. Today is going to be hectic at the office, can’t say if I’ll be home on time.”

He’d expected that answer but he was determined. “Okay. But if we can manage it, I’d really like us to do something.”

She gave a faint smile. “If we can manage it.” Then turned and swept through the door.

Perez stared into his teacup. The creamy brown liquid wasn’t so appealing anymore.

She hadn’t gotten him anything. The thought hurt.

It wasn’t as if he’d really expected anything or had particularly wanted something. It was just that there was a time when she’d have woken him up with a sloppy kiss, flashing gift packs before his still drowsy eyes and badgering him to open them at once.
Once upon a time, her eyes would have rounded in delight at a new gift and she’d have shrieked with same delight. And time was when she never asked if she should fix something for him, but had his breakfast, hot and ready, by the time he came out and sat with him while he ate.

Or would nag him sorely if he dared suggest he was in too much hurry for breakfast.
Where did those times go? What happened to take them away?

His appetite totally gone, Perez got up, picked his teacup and the plate of untouched bread-slices and walked to the sink. He poured the tea into the sink and bent to dump the bread into the bin underneath it.

“I’m off.” She called out, the front door sliding open and then shut at her exit.

“Have a great day.” Perez murmured into the silence.

Shuffling footsteps told him Jesse and Nneoma were coming. So, he shook off whatever glumness lingered, opened the Provisions cabinet and drew out the packs of cereal and milk.

They came in. Both in their uniforms, their school bags in hand.

“Over here, Jess.” He pulled out a chair for him, lifted him onto it and slipped a napkin around his neck. “Now you start emptying that bowl while I butter your bread. How many do you want—six?” He winked.

Jesse gurgled and shook his head. “Three.” He raised three chubby fingers.

Three has been his favourite number since he turned that age.

“Three it is then.” Perez chuckled, placing the plate of buttered bread beside him and taking the seat next to his.

He sorted through some emails while he waited for them to finish with their breakfast. Nneoma finished first and they both waited for Jesse. Finally, he was done.

“Thank you, daddy.” Jesse beamed.

“Thank God.” He leaned over and wiped his mouth with the napkin.

Nneoma took their used dishes to the sink to wash up and was just finishing up when the school bus honked. Perez quickly set Jesse down from the chair and strapped his school bag onto his back.

“Nneoma, grab his lunch box and let’s go.” He instructed, picking his own briefcase and taking Jesse’s hand as they headed for the door.

“Be a good boy in school, okay?” He bent to give him a hug.

“Mmm-hmm.” Jesse bounced his head, his face a wreath of smiles.

Quelling the usual worries that assailed him whenever he was the one to see him off to school, he straightened up and allowed the bus conductor to lift him up into the bus. He never would understand the modern society that snatched babies right from their mothers’ bosoms and forced them into school. He’d been five when he’d started school for heaven’s sake! Yet, his son had to begin at two because both his parents worked long hours from dawn to dusk.

Managing a cheerful wave, he backtracked into the compound and found Nneoma waiting beside the titanium silver BMW X6. “Get in, let’s go.” He said, unlocking the car.
Either one of them dropped her off at the bus stop before going to work.

He backed into the street as Nosa, security-guard, held open the gate with one hand and waved enthusiastically with the other. With the traffic from Lekki to Gbagada not so bad, he arrived his office at three minutes shy of seven-forty.



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JeffreyJamez:
Soooo True.... this has to change tho..... I know I am ready to pay as much as 1000naira for a very good read from people like prettyspicey and larrysun

Hmm.