Forbidden Dance: Will She Forgo Her Marriage for a Lifetime of Happiness? (5 page)

“Sounds like a forbidden dance on your bed.” Tiny explosions rang out between her thighs. Sex with Zane sounded sensational. “Suits me. But first, I’ll like to trade in my car for a new one. Do you trade cars?”

“I can do that for you, beautiful.” He leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. She opened her mouth and tipped her tongue inside his. Hot lava singed their tongues and they broke apart. Since their piping hot dance, her body hadn’t stopped tingling.

Zane wiped his lips with the back of his hand. His nose flared and his eyes hooded beneath his dark lashes.

“Alero, I want to hold you in my arms, on my bed.”

A wild quake went through her body. The kiss and his provocative words stoked the heat inside her, and she was caught up in the flames.

“Don’t stop, Zane,” she whispered.

He took her hand, led her out of the nightclub, and drove her straight to his place.

As soon as he shut the front door, he peeled off her dress. Alero tore off his shirt, unbuckled his jeans and they hit the sofa.

His fingers teased her nipples and she cried out his name. “Zane, please, take me.”

And he obliged her.

Zane moaned her name into her hair, sucked her nipples and thrust into her. Pent up fire exploded in her mound in torrents. Her fingers squeezed his butt, pushing him deeper. She matched and danced to his forbidden beats until they both screamed out in ecstasy.

Twenty minutes later, they picked themselves off the sofa, climbed unto the massive polished oak dining table, and danced to the rhythm of their heartbeats stark naked.

Kyle picked up the receiver in the apartment he bought two weeks ago in Chelsea and Kensington. The extensive blinking London lights across the River Thames did nothing to heal the wounds in his heart.

The mansion he shared with Alero haunted him throughout the two weeks he stayed there. Since he returned from Los Angeles, he had not known peace. Everywhere he turned in their home, his wife’s face mocked him. Perhaps the alcohol in his blood stream played games in his head. But it got to the point where he couldn’t bear to stay alone in their home. So, he snatched up this swanky apartment that was up for sale, within hours of it being listed.

At least here, he could sit for hours, lost in a different world, as he watched speedboats and ferries move over the water.

The truth was he was going out of his mind with worry, guilt and pain. For days he wondered whether Rev Jones was serious about his offer to be his listening ear. Right now, he needed someone who would not judge or mock him. His parents were out of the question. And his friends? Oh, they would say,
I told you so
.

He dragged in air and dialled the number scribbled on the back page of the bible.

“Hello, Rev. Jones speaking. How may I help you?” The warm tone soothed Kyle’s nerves and he breathed easier.

“Hello Rev. Jones, I’m Kyle Thomson. We met on the flight from Los Angeles to London.”

“You need no introduction, Kyle,” the old man laughed quietly. “I have been expecting your call. When do you plan to pop in to see me?”

Relief crawled over Kyle’s skin. The fact he did not have to go through the grinder was a balm to his hurting soul. The shadow of a smile appeared on his lips for the first time in over a month.

“Thank you, Rev. I’ll see you tomorrow at noon. Is that a convenient time?”

“Anytime is a convenient time for you, Kyle. I look forward to our meeting.”

The bleep tone afterward meant the line had been disconnected. Kyle walked to the kitchen sink and chucked the leftover drink.

He raced to the shower, washed himself, ate a meal of sandwich and chicken wings, curled up in front of the TV and slept soundly for the first time in weeks.

≈≈≈

At noon the following day, Kyle pushed the buzzer on the door. It was Flat 37 on London road. The stunning stone building for retired clergy was framed by flowering hedge plants.

The door was promptly opened by a smiling slender dark woman wearing glasses. She was African. A pretty graceful woman in dark blue embroidered kaftan.

“Welcome Kyle. My husband speaks about you all the time. Do come in.”

Kyle stood rooted to the spot. Was this Aileen? He swallowed and accepted the woman’s handshake.

“Hello Aileen.” His voice was hesitant. She laughed off his hesitation. She linked her arm into his elbow and led him inside.

“Yes, I’m Aileen. You look as if you have seen a ghost. I know my husband forgot to mention his wife was African. Your brain is probably trying to work out how we have stayed married for forty-five years.”

Aileen was so right. She knew his thoughts. But before he could reply, Rev. Jones joined them in the kitchen.

The old man shook his hand gingerly, and held out a wooden seat for him.

“Thank you,” he croaked when he remembered his manners. Their home had a warm earthy feel about it. Character features dotted the whole space. High ceiling strewn with dark beams, range cooker, stone tiles on the kitchen floor and more.

“I see you have met my wife. Do let her show you her African warmth and love. Without it, she would be lost.”

Aileen grabbed a wooden spoon. “I warn you Henry, watch your mouth.” The couple laughed, and Rev. Jones sat at the table. “What can I offer you, Kyle? Tea or coffee?”

“Do you have a drink? I mean coke or juice?” Kyle suggested. It was a hot September afternoon. A hot drink was not his preference.

“Of course we do,” the couple chorused. While Rev. Jones went to get the drink from the refrigerator, Aileen brought dishes of rice and chicken with fried plantains and salad to the table.

Kyle quickly pushed back his chair and received the dishes from the woman with a big smile.

“You’re going to have lunch with us before you get muddled in any serious talk.”

Kyle grinned. He hadn’t eaten a home-cooked meal for so long, he had forgotten what it felt like. He got out drinking water from the refrigerator and asked for the cutleries. Aileen pointed at the drawer to her left. And he took out cutlery for all three of them.

Suddenly, it felt good to have people around him again. He did not feel like an outsider.

“Hey, Kyle. If you want wine, we have a bottle in the fridge,” Rev. Jones offered.

Kyle lifted a can of coke in one hand. “This will do, Rev.”

They all sat down.

Rev. Jones said the prayers and they ate, bantering words as though they were old friends.

Once they were done, Aileen ushered the men out of sight.

“Go off to your meeting. I have to clean up the kitchen and then watch Grey’s Anatomy.”

“Can I help?” Kyle suggested. He felt it was the least he could do.

Aileen swung the dish cloth at him. “Go with my husband. You have a lot to talk about. I can cope. Perhaps, next time.” Her tone was merry and inviting.

Oh, there was going to be a next time with these nice people? Good gracious, he could easily get used to this way of life. It was a huge contrast to his lonely existence.

Rev. Jones bent his neck in the direction of the kitchen doorway. Kyle followed behind. They passed through the living room, down a long hallway into what must be a study.

Kyle noticed one chair at a wide table and lots of books in wall shelves. Maybe this was where he prepared sermons.

A separate grouping of two cosy chairs and a three-cushioned sofa invited a more relaxed chat.

Rev. Jones sat in one comfy chair and pointed to the second. “Do sit down, Kyle.”

All too quickly, Kyle’s stomach knotted in several places. He sat down with his back ramrod straight.

“You’re not facing the judgement seat, Kyle. Sit back, relax, shut your eyes and rest your head. We have all day.”

Kyle exhaled. He rested his head and shut his eyes. After a while, his mind wandered, mulling over memories and images.

“When I first met my wife,” Kyle began without being prompted. “I saw something special in her. I didn’t know she would end up with me. I had gone to Nigeria to film a documentary in the Niger-Delta region. And she worked with Shell on the same project.” A smile spread across his face. There was dead silence. Kyle spoke as if to himself, his mind faraway.

“She had a beautiful smile, great set of teeth, the perfect figure for a model and I told her she could make a lot of money modelling in London or the US. But she was shy and doubted if she could pull it off. I told her to talk it over with her family.” He stopped to drag in air. In the four years he had been married, his work had become so hectic that he hadn’t taken a moment to sit, relax and reflect. It felt good to think back about how their journey began.

“Her parents were excited. So when I was done with the project, I brought her with me to London. Her bashful personality suited mine perfectly. I’m loud and out-going. I introduced her to my parents as a friend. They raised ethnic objections. Perhaps they knew I was falling for her. At that time, I didn’t know I was.” He sighed. "Yet, I didn’t take advantage of her."

A long pause followed.

“There’s your drink, if you need it.” Rev. Jones’s voice sounded distant. Kyle’s mind roved as he continued.

“Alero was so well brought up, she didn’t offer me any favours. You know what I mean?”

“Yes, I do.” The clergyman answered and fell quiet.

“When I took her with me to LA, she was a hit. Every product she modelled was a huge success, just as I envisioned. Men flocked round her in droves. I had female models at my beck and call too. But, I always kept an eye on Alero. She dated a few male models. I realized after several months, I couldn’t stand her going out with other men. I wanted her in my life. But she found it difficult to believe I was serious. She gave me a tough time because of my reputation. The more she played hard to get, the more I pursued her until I couldn’t live without her. After I applied pressure on her family, she gave in and agreed to marry me.” Kyle’s eyes sprang open and he sat upright.

“Would you say you coerced her into marriage?” Rev. Jones asked, his tone neutral.

“I’m asking myself the same question, Rev. I hadn’t given it a thought before now.”

Rev. Jones nodded. “So what happened after you got married?”

By this time, Kyle was so agitated he could not sit still. He took the drink and sipped slowly while he paced about the room.

“It was all good and sweet for the first twelve months. I doted on her and the sex was good, even if not adventurous. Something happened. I had an extramarital romp once, within the first year. I just found out I have a son. My wife discovered the truth and bolted.” The words felt as if it was being wrenched from him.

“So what changed?” the soft voice intruded when he quit talking.

“I changed! We changed! Everything very well changed!” Kyle’s voice cracked, and a tear slipped down, and another, and the wall around his heart cracked. He faced the window, and grabbed the sill. His shoulders vibrated with anger, and the truth he failed his wife. He did not need anyone to tell him what he already knew.

“We can carry on next week, same time if you like,” his companion offered after a long while.

Kyle nodded. He did not feel able to continue at this point. He needed to lick his wounds.

“Thank you for having me.”

Rev. Jones thrust a sheet of paper into his hand. “When you get home, read the verses.”

Kyle walked around aimlessly for hours, his head ached his thoughts soured.

Two days later, Kyle sat at a bar in the upscale neighbourhood where he lived. And a blonde-haired appealing woman slid into the barstool next to his. Her skirt was so short, all he had to do was stare long enough to identify the colour of her panties. He kept his eyes fixed on his drink; a glass of coke and gin.

The woman nudged his elbow. He gave her a sideways glance and returned his stare to his glass.

“I know the cure for your grim look,” she promised. Her tone was confident and sexy, and he knew a daring romp in the hay was on her cards.

“Find another victim.” Kyle slipped off his chair and walked out of the bar. The woman fell into step beside him.

“What’s a gorgeous man doing rejecting an attractive woman’s overtures?”

He turned up his collar, and shoved his hands inside his jacket pockets. The evening air had taken on a chilly note.

“Lady, you plan on stalking me?” The irritation in his tone hit home.

She stopped. “Suit yourself, grumpy sod.”

A smile washed across his face. He broke into a jog when a light drizzle fell from the grey sky.

When he got home, he changed into his tennis gear. On his way out, his mobile phone rang.

He snapped it open without checking the caller ID. “Kyle here.”

“Kyle, how are you?”

He almost groaned aloud. It was his wife’s mum. It had been a little while since he called Alero's parents. How do you interact with your in-laws when you are not chummy with their daughter?

“Good evening, ma. I hope you’re keeping well?” His parents-in-law insisted he called them Ma and Pa instead of their given names. He was accustomed to it.

“Yes, I’m keeping well. The only trouble is that we haven’t heard from you or our daughter for too many months.”

His chest tightened and he squeezed his eyes shut. “We’re so sorry we haven’t been in touch. Work has been tough. How are Pa and the boys?”

The woman sighed. “The same excuse every time, Kyle. We long to hear your voices. Pa and the boys are well. And how’s my daughter? Is she there with you? I want to talk to her.”

Different excuses bobbed into his head. But he needed the perfect one to pacify the worried woman. “I’ll tell my wife to call you. She’s out of the house at the moment.”

“Is that so? My daughter doesn’t think it wise to speak to us. I hope you’re not giving her any trouble, Kyle?” Even though the question was said in jest, guilt gnawed his insides.

“Ma, you know I love your daughter. I intend to come to Warri in a month or so. Alero and I are going to send you some items. Give our love to everyone.”

The woman’s tone mellowed. “Aha! Thank you. I’ll tell Pa both of you’re coming to visit us in one month.”

“N-No, I said I have a project to carry out in Warri, and I intend to pop in to see you. Alero’s so busy, she can’t possibly get away at that time.”

“Oh, I see.” The disappointment in her voice was palpable. He had no clue where his wife was, how could he promise to fly her to visit her parents in one month?

“Don’t worry, Ma. I’ll give her your love.” Before the woman could respond, he disconnected the call.

Kyle stomped out of his apartment, and dashed down to the tennis court in the basement. There was always a paid player on hand to play with the residents.

He played for two hours. He lost three games but he kept at it. The only way he could get to sleep was if he tired himself out.

“Thank you, Cruz.”

“I had a great game today, Kyle. I must be getting better. Looking forward to our next game.”

≈≈≈

“Don’t bet on it,” Kyle said absently as he hurried off.

On Thursday, Kyle delayed calling Rev. Jones. He was nervous about today’s session. It was eleven in the morning.

He dialled the number, changed the appointment to six pm and ended the call. Rev. Jones accepted the change in schedule without protest. It helped that the retired priest did not give him a hard time.

The afternoon flew by. Before long, he stood on Rev. Jones’s doorstep. This time a fair complexioned handsome man came to the door. He looked older than Kyle.

“You must be Kyle,” he said, extending his hand. “Welcome. I’m Duncan. My friends call me Dune.” He was as tall as Kyle and had his father’s light brown eyes but his mother’s exuberant personality.

“Hello Duncan, good to meet you.” Duncan stepped aside, allowed him in and shut the door. “You can call me Dune," he repeated. “Dad says you’re a friend of the family.”

Really? A warm feeling eased its way into Kyle’s spine. “Thank you, Dune.”

“What can I offer you? Open the refrigerator and help yourself. Dad has a pack of coke in the fridge. When I asked who drank coke, he said, ‘
Kyle likes coke’
.”

“He did?” Kyle was touched Rev. Jones stocked up the fridge to his taste.

They sat at the kitchen table. Dune popped a can of beer. “My marriage went through a rocky patch within the first few years. But we pulled through.”

Kyle’s hand on the door of the fridge froze in place. “You’re married?” he asked when he recovered. The fact this stranger was willing to share his personal story with him was a surprise.

Dune took a long swallow from his can and chuckled. “Why? You think I don’t look old enough?”

Kyle laughed. “No. That’s not what I mean. Rev. Jones didn’t mention it, that’s all.”

Dune waved away his reason. “My dad’s a rock. Secretive to the core, but you can bank on receiving unconditional love.”

“That’s so true,” Kyle nodded.

“I’ve been married for eight years. We hit an iceberg after three years. We got separated for about three months and then, we got back together and we’ve become rock solid. I’m grateful for the rough times. It was very tough, I must admit, but our relationship is better for it.”

Kyle drank the coke and the sweetness taunted the bitter taste of his life. “It’s great to meet someone who has actually gone through a break in his marriage. Before now, I felt so alone and adrift.”

Dune grinned. “Everywhere you look, marriages are troubled. You’re not alone. Many couples attend counselling sessions with dad. It’s so common, you need not hold it all in. Better days are ahead, trust me.”

It was amazing to meet a family who were so open, and willing to help others pull through a bleak patch and give them hope.

“If you don’t mind me prying, how did you sort things out?”

Dune laughed off his discomfort. “I got claustrophobic about the marriage, she got irritated with me, complained about neglect, whined about everything and eventually reported me to my parents.”

Kyle’s eyebrows raised several notches. “Your story sounds pretty similar to mine except my parents helped drill the nails into the coffin.”

Dune did not appear shocked. “I love my parents dearly for the work they do. But I know many parents who help wreck marriages. Yours is no different.”

Dune’s words provided some comfort. “How did you feel washing your dirt before your parents?”

He shrugged. “We had hit rock bottom, Keira had moved out, so there was no pride left. It was either I admitted I needed help or lose my wife. Dad was very calm about it all. We attended sessions with him. It was hard-hitting and uncomfortable, but we committed to going through with the entire session.”

Commitment was the key word. Kyle wondered if part of his problem was in not committing fully to building his marriage.

“How long did it take for you to find your way back?” Kyle was full of questions. Thank God Dune did not find his probes intrusive.

“About three months.”

Kyle recoiled. “Three months?”

“Imagine how long it took to sow and feed the rot. It depends on how quickly you identify and uproot the weeds.”

From Dune’s analogy, he understood the extent of the mess, and the repair work required.

“What do you do?” Kyle wanted to know a bit more about this man, who was very much like his parents – warm, helpful, and generous.

“I’m a trained medical doctor, once an army reserve, but now I own and run a gym.”

“Ah, an interesting mix. I play tennis. And I love to go to the gym as often as possible.”

Dune stood up. “Tennis is great. You should stop by my gym sometime. Mum has made dinner. Once you’re done with Dad, we’ll have some food.”

Right on cue, Rev Jones and Aileen appeared by the doorway.

“Hello Kyle. Good to see you again.” Both of them spoke in unison. And they all laughed.

Aileen gave him a hug and a peck on both cheeks. “We see Dune has kept you busy. He talks ten to the dozen.”

Dune stood between his parents and rested his arms over their shoulders. The posture needled Kyle’s heart. He missed his family.

“Go on to your discussion. We’ll have dinner once you’re done,” Aileen said with a shove at Kyle.

“Kyle, you know the way,” Rev. Jones said as he left the kitchen. It felt good to be in their midst.

And so Kyle made weekly appointments with Rev. Jones for the next three months. In that time, he faced some harsh truths about his attitudes – his selfishness, and single-minded focus about his work. He learnt how these failings hurt his wife. In a few sessions, he had to list all the emotional ways he knew he inflicted pain on his wife, and why he acted the way he did. Oh and his neglect of her stank to his nostrils.

Rev. Jones made him discuss every minute detail. At first, he cringed, but when he remembered Dune’s advice, he opened up freely.

In the final weeks, he had to discuss what he could have done differently in every instance where he failed.

After the twelve week period, it was obvious he alone had control over his actions and inactions. And he alone could determine whether he wanted a happy marriage or not.

Once his therapy sessions came to an end, he flew to Warri to visit his parents-in-law under the pretext of completing a bogus film project. How he managed to cover his problems from their inquisitive queries beat him.

Before he made the trip to Warri, he shopped for clothing and shoes for his wife’s parents and brothers. As an afterthought, he bought a Mercedes Benz for his father-in-law straight from a showroom in Warri. To some extent, his generosity threw them off his trail.

His life was still on tenterhooks. Now, after nearly six months, his Private Investigators still had no clue where his wife had disappeared to and he was almost at his wits end.