I went mute when she said “Baby, I’m pregnant”

The future came to me in a rush. The look on the face of the man I saw at the supermarket the other day, at the sight of the price of a diaper… He sweats.I traveled thousands of miles into tomorrow. I could imagine my mother’s expression when I said “mori-ohun-mubo” (I come back with a thing) . I could hear the giggle of the younger wives dishing out a mock tone to my situation.

My whole life flashed past in a jiffy, and I broke out in sweats without even getting to the diaper stand like the man.

Are you still there? Please say something. She brought me back to reality from the other end of the call…

Is this real? I asked.

It was our first time. We weren’t supposed to be together that night, but I am too caring to let her go in the rain, even though she has an umbrella. “I don’t want you to freely give yourself out to your cold allergies”, I said.

Had I known, I should have let her go.We played a game of truth or dare, and she dared me to take off my clothes. She is mine; I am hers, so I did her bidding, and in return, I dared her to do the same.

We got intimate. She smells like olive oil and fresh palm wine from the tapper. I kissed her neck softly, and she moaned slowly as we locked and killed the bulb switch.(Light Out)

“I am sorry, I am still a kid, I don’t think I can raise one” I said, and I could hear her heart shattered in the silence that followed. Now it is my turn to say, “Are you still there? Please say something”, but the line got disconnected, and I could hear my life crushed right there in front of me. I tried calling back, but she wouldn’t pick up. It was 10:45 p.m. late at night; I couldn’t be allowed in at Obafemi Awolowo Hall at such ungodly hours. I couldn’t sleep; the echo of her voice broke the hymen of my peace and rendered me to total emptiness. I blamed my stupid mind for succumbing to her dare; I should have gone with a cup of Smirnoff ice, the punishment we agreed on for defaulters.

By the time I got to her hostel at 9 a.m., she was nowhere to be found. Her friends said she left in a taxi with her luggage without saying her destination. I broke into sweats again. I messed up! I wish we could travel back in time, and I should reverse my foolishness.

The thoughts of how quickly my baby is going to turn into a suicide make my heart race faster, and how she can go somewhere to hurt herself and watch the blood drain from herself with a satisfying look on her face.

I can’t bear the burden of losing my afro girl, not to talk of my growing flesh inside of her. I scream internally.

Maybe I will have the courage to accept my growing child in my baby’s womb. Maybe I will stand to hold her hands through all this. Perhaps we can go away together, to our dream paradise and raise our kids there all alone as we watch the sunset over our home. Maybe, we could set sail towards the sea, fighting the winds and tides together.

Where is my baby?

It's been three years now. I still live with the nightmare of how we used to hold hands in the classroom during lectures. How much we are fond of calling each other until late at night. The memories of how we used to be plague my night, and I become dead alive. I could still remember our last night together and how it ended. I was not ready for a goodbye; did I even get one?And since we were unable to say goodbye, I believe, “We’ll meet again, "I don’t know where or when, but I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.” — Vera Lynn and I will show you each mark on my wrist, counting each year I tried to take my life because I owe two lives, a debt I don’t think I will ever repay.

I am sorry for the scared-thinking decision of the night that became the thorn in our flesh…

Will he find his babe?