Torn

Bassey took the stairs two at a time, the wine bottle knocking against her thigh with every step. She clutched the contract in her other hand, the paper already creasing from how tightly she held it. She didn’t care. Let it crease. Let the whole world crease; she had just gotten the Heritage deal, and she wasn’t walking into Kelvin’s apartment; she was flying.

She punched in the door code he’d given her the second month they were together and pushed inside, already talking before the door swung shut behind her.

“Kelvin, you won’t believe it, baby. The Heritage contract, they signed. I’m officially...”

She stopped.

The words died in her mouth mid-sentence because a woman was in his lap. She was straddling him, her hands braced on his shoulders, and Kelvin was frozen beneath her, like someone had hit pause on the whole scene.

Nobody moved. For a second, the only sound in that huge, open living room was the city’s hum through the windows behind them.

Kelvin looked up first. “What are you doing here? I thought you were with your girls.”

That was it. That was the first thing out of his mouth. Not her name. Not an apology. What are you doing here?

The woman slid off him slowly, almost insultingly slow, like she had all the time in the world. “Kelvin,” she said, “you said she was in Abuja.”

So he’d lied to both of them. Bassey filed that away in the back of her mind, somewhere she’d deal with it later, because right now she could only stand in the doorway with a bottle of wine warming in her hand.

The woman backed into the corner of the room, arms folded over her chest, chin lifted, staring Bassey down like she was the one who had walked in uninvited.

“Baby, look.” Kelvin was up now, hands out in front of him like he was trying to calm a startled animal. “I can explain. It’s not what it looks like. We were just celebrating your win in advance.”

Celebrating her win. In advance. With his hands on another woman’s hips. Bassey couldn’t help but scoff.

She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. Her whole body went very still, very quiet, the kind of stillness that comes right before every storm. She looked at him. She looked at the woman in the corner, arms crossed like she’d done nothing wrong. She looked back at him.

“I’m done with this.”

The bottle slipped from her hand before she could decide to throw it. It hit the floor and burst, red wine spreading fast across the white rug, soaking in a shape that would never fully come out, no matter how many times he’d had it cleaned. She crossed the room and slapped him, hard enough that her palm stung, and then she was already turning, walking away, the contract still crumpled in her other fist.

“B, baby, wait.” He was behind her now, following her down the hallway, past the wide windows where you could see half of Lagos stretched out and glittering, as if none of this were happening. “I’m sorry. Wait.”

She didn’t wait.

---

The G-Wagon still smelled new. He’d bought it for her three months ago, a whole production out of it, a bow on the hood and everything, and she’d cried then too. She threw her jacket onto the passenger seat and sat behind the wheel without starting the engine, and that was when it finally caught up with her. She put her forehead against her hands and sobbed.

Her phone rang before she’d even wiped her face. Idara’s name on the screen, and underneath it Nancy’s, a three-way call already connecting.

“Congratulations, baby girl!” Idara’s voice came through first, bright and loud, clearly mid-manicure. “Where are we celebrating?”

“I can’t believe he did this to me.”

A beat of silence on the line.

“What’s going on?” That was Nancy, her office voice dropping instantly.

“I can’t believe he did this to me, guys. She pulled in a breath that shook on the way out. “I can’t believe I’m back here, guys, to these lies and deceit. This is the second time. The second time in four months.”

“I hate to say I told you so,” Idara said, “but I told you.”

“Not now.” Nancy, sharp. “That’s not what she needs right now.”

“How could he do this to me?” Bassey’s voice cracked on he, and she heard herself say it like she was listening from somewhere outside her own body.

“Babe, please, breathe,” Nancy said.

“She doesn’t need to breathe,” Idara cut in. “She needs to go back in there and rip that cheater a new one. Break something if she has to.”

“Not now, Idara.”

“I’m just saying.”

Bassey let her head fall back against the headrest. “I told myself last time was the last time. I had it all planned out, how I was going to leave, what I was going to say, how I wasn’t going to let him talk me out of it. And then he showed up with that Hermes bag and this stupid car, and I just.” She stopped. “What is wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Nancy said, quiet now, certain. “Nothing is wrong with you. Everything is wrong with him.”

“I told you this man would do this again,” Idara said, “the first time he did it, I told you, because you keep making him believe there are no consequences for his actions.”

“Not now, babe,” Nancy said again.

“No, she needs to hear this.” A pause, the hum of the salon dryer in the background. “Not to make you feel bad. But babe, you deserve so much more than this. You built your dream out of a bedroom with a laptop and a mood board. You hustled through it all, through your boss, through everyone at that office treating you like you don’t belong there, and today, of all days, this man decides to do this. I don’t think that’s a coincidence. I think God is removing a distraction.”

“Why are you giving me a TED talk right now?”

“Because somebody has to.”

“Guys, I really love that man.”

“He’s a stupid man,” Idara said, without missing a beat, “and you are getting a new one tonight.”

“Tonight?” Nancy asked.

“Tonight. We’re going out. I am not letting her go home, eat her feelings, and sulk in that big, empty flat of hers. He might be rich, but she already has a wealthy man in her life. Me.”

Bassey laughed, somewhere between the tears, a short, wet sound that surprised her. “You’re not a man, Idara.”

“Go home, wash your face, find something that makes you feel sexy. We are going out.”

“She’s not wrong, though,” Nancy said. “We do need to celebrate. This is still huge.”

“See, even Nance agrees with me,” Idara said.

Bassey wiped under her eyes with the back of her hand. “Okay. Okay, girls.”

“You have one hour,” Idara said. “Go home, get dressed; we’re coming to get you.”

“I’ll be out of here in a few minutes,” Nancy added. “I’ll meet Idara at the salon, and we’ll swing by for you. We’re going to Onyx.”

The call ended. Bassey looked at herself in the rearview mirror, eyes rimmed red, mascara smudged down one cheek; she just sat with how undone she looked. Then she started the car, pulled out of the parking lot, and drove into the lit-up chaos of Lagos, toward home.