HOW IT STARTED [ORIGINAL STORY BY ME]

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I stood by the door of our apartment, my hand tucked deep into my tight chinos trousers as I made a fist. I could feel the strain push the threads to their limit as she pushed mine. One, two, three, four! I inhaled and exhaled deeply in bid to maintain composure, but as always the metronome in my head was going haywire!

You've been here before, you can handle this, be a man for christ's sake! But it was was funny, as I stood there loveless, looking her dead in the eye,and knowing I was moments away from strangling my wife. Sensational!

"Ayo!" she screamed like the mad women she was becoming. She had become the problematic alarm for the whole neighbourhood. Everyone knew our story. In fact, I could hear my neighbours grumbling in their beds. They've had enough of our perpetual arguments. It had gotten so bad that no one even comes to separate us. For Christ's sake this is 7am in the morning! A sane human would not be shouting at the top of her voice, for God knows what!

"Ayo!" she screamed again. This time a little too loud, which might warrant the flexing of my muscles, involuntary. That tiny sharp voice of hers, like the buzzing of a million mosquitoes, my God! The irritation. Anything but that. Anything but her persisting blabbing. I could feel the intensity of breathe. My heart beat raced. I was losing it, I told myself, It was only a matter of time. For what exactly? What are you going to do, huh?

I managed to maintain composure. How I did? I can't say for sure. Maybe it was last week's sermon in church. I could hear the pastor's baritone voice piercing the heart of the congregation, "forgive and forget," he said repeatedly, and it seemed like those words resonated in my wife's heart. She had the loudest hallelujah and Amen, and It had my hoping for some peace and quite that week, but that was a ludicrous dream. Monday, and we had returned to status quota. A chameleon truly never changes it's spots.

"Ayo," she bellowed, "is your name not Ayo? Or are you deaf or something?"

It got physical. She had her hands on my shirt, squeezing tight, "Ayo!" she increased her tempo, "hmmm, Ayo!" Your typical Nigeria wife's power move to frustrate you. And it worked perfectly.

Would you shut up please... and get on with it.

She shoved me from side to side. My God! This woman is testing my patience. When did she become so feisty, I asked myself. I almost bumped my head on the door a couple times, that would have been my deal breaker, I thought. Oh, all hell would have been let loose!

Story...

You are getting used to this.The thought alone had me laughing. A little too loud but I couldn't hold myself. It made her blood boil. I could see it in her eyes. The fierce look in her eyes, of a woman about to explode like a dirty-bomb, was been displaced by hot tears. The type you couldn't hold back. The type that had been lingering for long. But I was smiling from cheek to cheek. What would you have me do? It was funny. Very funny. I was becoming accustomed to my problematic life. Who would have thought?

"Ayo!!!" her voice flutter.

Aren't you tired of calling my name?! Aren't you tired of creating a scene?! Aren't you tired of being a pain in the ass?! Are you?! Haba! you can do better.

I was living in hell's hole, literally! Number 33, Akinwalere street, home of one of the most miserable man in the world. A self-acclaimed title, yes. And who says I didn't deserve it? In fact, I was the most miserable soul to have ever walked the face of this planet.

"Ayo!!!"

I smiled.

A quick peek at my shoe-- brown and dusty, just like me. I had bought them on my thirty-second birthday as a gift to myself. Initially, I was saving for a watch, but it's price had doubled by the time I could afford it. Disappointed, I headed home. On my way out of the mall I stumbled upon a nice pair of shoes . Brown Italian beauty. Her exquisite design lured me. It was love at first sight. Though, twice the price of any shoe I had ever purchased, I was too hooked to resist. So I bought them and dashed home and that marked the beginning of our companionship . It's been five years and six months, they've walked with me through every journey. Fortunately for me, they did not talk like most people do, or question my authority, no, I just woke up every morning and wore them--they were that loyal.

" Ayo," this time it was more of a softened cry than a shriek, and her grip on my shirt began to loosen, "Ayo you're ignoring me?"

"What would you have me do?!" I barked, "What in God's name do you want from me Damilola? What?!"

She jumped at my sudden outburst, guess she wasn't expecting that one. I wasn't either. Well, in your face! Wifie...

"Tell me," I continued, "What do you want from me."

There was long pause followed by uncontrollable stream of tears pouring out of her eyes. Her face held no expression, just tears. She looked me dead in the eye and all she could do was cry. A piece of me felt her pain; a piece of me felt pity for her, even in my moment of anger. This wasn't the women I married. I couldn't recognise her no more, she looked miserable.

"Ayo I'm tired," she said, her voice feint as a whisper but with so much depth, "I'm tired." And I understood perfectly what she meant. And felt.

To be continued....