Hearts: A Story Of Love, Life & Heartbreak Part 3

  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  

Hearts: A Story Of Love, Life & Heartbreak Part 3

October 26, 2017 – Hearts: A Story Of Love, Life & Heartbreak Part 3

By Moses Emorinken

It is 3:30am in the early hours of the morning. The cock is yet to be astir to herald the dawning of a new day. Silence seemed so loud, and the only company Amarachi had was the chirping of crickets, and the “tick tack” rhythmic sounds from the humongous wooden clock that hung on the wall of their living room. Her eyes were heavy and deluged with bags and intermittent downing of tears; her entire being was overwhelmed with sordid emotions.

Ping! Ping!! Ping!!! Femi’s Blackberry phone buzzed with pings from Amarachi. “Where did this Yoruba boy drop his phone?” she said with a slightly worried and contoured face. “Only God knows what he is doing at the moment? He might as well be with a girl, or is he drunk again with his friends…, wait a minute, hope he is not in trouble?” Amarachi’s mind paced back and forth with very squalid thoughts of what her “partner” Femi might be up to.

While Femi was chasing and wooing her, he did not have to overstretch his luck and masculine prowess to win the primed and already vulnerable heart of Amarachi. Femi didn’t only look or talk the part, he also “acted” the part; he sent her gifts, took her to beautiful and exotic places; their lifestyle seemed so perfect that anytime they went out, ladies all around would go green with envy – wishing they were in Amarachi’s shoes. As the saying goes, “only the wearer of a shoe knows where it pinches”, looks can be very deceptive.

If the envious ladies had been more discerning to look closely at the corner eye of Amarachi which was covered with a dark shade of fancy spectacles, they would have noticed her left eye was black; one that Femi so graciously brandished with constant battery, bludgeoning and pummelling. Maybe then, they would not have admired but pitied her condition.

During the early days of their relationship, she had noticed quite a few unsettling behaviours that Femi would usually display. He would call her obnoxious and derogatory names, hit her slightly in the head when he is upset with her, and would hang out with different ladies at different times at night clubs and beer parlours. Because of her desperate need and fixation for a “father figure”, affirmation, and validation she stuck with him, in the hope that she would change him one day.

Now, it is 3:30am in the early hours of the morning. The cock is yet to be astir to herald the dawning of a new day. Silence seemed so loud, and the only company Amarachi had was the chirping of crickets, and the “tick tack” rhythmic sounds from the humongous wooden clock hanging on the wall of their living room. Her eyes were heavy and deluged with intermittent downing of tears; her entire being was overwhelmed with sordid emotions. It seemed like history was about to repeat itself because her mother went through a similar ordeal in the hands of her dad. The only difference was that she wasn’t married to Femi yet, but they were already cohabiting.

Being in a relationship with Femi didn’t complete her because she still felt the void from two years earlier when her parents’ marriage of over twenty years dissolved like a melting ice. There is still a hole in her soul that wouldn’t heal.

Knock! Knock!! Knock!!! “Would you come and open this door for me this minute before I break you with the door?” Femi said. He was outside wallowing in the cesspool of his vomit; he had gone clubbing with his cronies and had gotten himself drunk again. This seems to be the new normal for Femi. Amarachi rushed to the door, her fragile hands were shaky and wobbly because she did not know what to expect after she opens the door. As she summoned the courage to unlock the door, Femi bashed into the house very angrily, irrational, and unsteady because of the excessive alcohol he had drowned his system with.

“Rain, rain, go away, come again another day…hmmm…ahhhh…” Femi sang as he staggered and took a giddy posturing. “Woman, how dare you lock me outside? I will deal mercilessly with you!” Before Amarachi could explain and calm him down, he launched out his already positioned hand and landed a debilitating slap on her already battered face. She fell to the ground, stood up and ran for dear life. He threw his half empty bottle of vodka at her but missed as she pranced and traversed all the corners of the living room. As she ran up the stairs, Femi ran after her; he grabbed her so tightly that she could hardly breathe, and as she struggled with him on the stairs she inadvertently pushed him just to free herself from his bestial clamp. Nooo…she screamed and watched as Femi rolled and desultorily fell down the stairs. SHE SCREAMED…SOME BODY HELP ME!!!

Whether you find yourself in the position of Amarachi or Femi, or neither of the two, it is very important to understand that the coming together or joining of hearts is not meant for two unstable and emotionally infantile individuals.

“Hurting people” hurt people.

A romantic relationship will not cure your inordinate cravings and addictions; neither will it fill the emotional void you constantly feel as a result of trauma or neglect. You cannot steer the ship of your relationship successfully having the wrong notions, mind-sets, and unrealistic expectations.

Looks can be very deceptive. They say not all that glitter is gold, however, as an addendum, not all that is gold is good for you! This might be the singular determinant of whether your life will be a worthy example or a complete disaster. If you feel lost and vulnerable, please don’t suffer in silence, talk to somebody, preferably a counselor.

If you are going through domestic violence or know someone who needs help, please can contact the appropriate agency of government.

About the author: brandphase@yahoo.com, Twitter: @memorinken, Instagram: @memorinken