Conjugal Vibes 2

For a very long time, I have lived in the delusion of being a million-yard wife material because of my deft culinary gift. My husband is not as impressed as I had expected.

"Babe, anything you cook, I would eat. Stop stressing yourself in the kitchen after a busy day's job," he says often. I find this remark encouraging always.

He feels it is not fair to occupy myself with cooking always when we both spend equal hours at work. Most times, he gets home before me. He can't boil egg to save his life, so he waits for me to get home.

True to his words, he orders cooked food for both of us on his way from work.

I don't like eating other people's foods, but the meals from 'D'lette Cuisine (DC), a deli in our neighborhood, humble me.

On some days, Kolapo suggests we eat supper in DC. We are in our second year of marriage, so it's easy to just dash out to eat and go back home to sleep.

One day, he was justifiably angry with me. He had asked me a week earlier to help him with an Excel analysis of a project in his office. I forgot until he reminded me on the penultimate day of his presentation.

For the two days, he gave me cold shoulders.

"Oyin, how can I be married to a Statistician and can't have impressive presentations of my projects at work?" he replied to my excuse.

"You should have reminded me before today now..." I apologized. I became quiet when he rolled his eyes in displeasure at me.

He hardly slept. He worked on his slides overnight. He ignored all my romantic overtures while he put finishing touches to his graphs, bar charts, pie charts, and other modes of data presentation.

I couldn't sleep due to guilt.

When he didn't hug me that Monday morning - our parting ritual before leaving for work - I became convinced that he was really angry with me. Kolapo is not a petty guy. I messed up big time.

At noon, I chatted him to ask about his presentation. He sent me a weird emoji in response.

"Are you still angry with me, K? I am sorry now."

No response from him.

I began to think of other ways to make up. All my jokers were not working. "Chai! Oyinkansola, na wa for you ooo," I teased myself.

Egusi soup with stock fish flashed in my brain. "Haha!" I blurted at work.

Lara, my office colleague, asked if all was well. "Don't mind me jo," I dismissed her question. She is a nosy fellow.

I made sure I got home before Kolapo. Before leaving my office, I had sent a message to Mama Chinenye, my regular vegetable vendor, to keep the necessary ingredients for me.

I fired on all cylinders when I entered the kitchen. If the offer of Eba with Egusi soup did not reconcile us, I would be at my wits' end of what else to do.

Kolapo came back earlier than I expected. Immediately I heard him turning the door into the living room, I dashed to welcome him and assess his countenance.

His face did not betray any emotion.

"K, how was your presentation?" I whispered, still feeling guilty, as he walked past me.

"Otondo Statistician, it went well jo! Let's go to DC; I am hungry."

Aawww! I mused pleasurably; he was still very considerate.

"I made Egusi soup with stock fish, babe."

"Ehn!" he turned sharply and flashed a beautiful smile at me. "I hope there is Eba too," he responded delightfully...

#Fiction

Picture culled from Glory Enchantresx Paul's page.