WRECKED 6 5

There was a little verse Anaya remembered: Needles and pins, needles and pins, When a man marries, his trouble begins.

It does not say when a woman's trouble begins.

Jubril was fast asleep. She could hear his deep breathing in the darkness. As soon as she could, she eased herself away from him, inching to the very edge of the bed. She could not bear to touch him. He was naked, and despite all her protests, so was she. When he slept, she was able to cry. She let the tears run down her face until the hollows at the base of her neck were wet.

She was not hurt. He had been kind, so considerate, so gentle, assuring her over and over again that the horrible things he was doing would be lovely for her too. "Just relax, my darling, don't tighten up against me…" She had wanted to strike out at him, tear herself free. But she couldn't. This was the much-vaunted wedding night, this disgusting ordeal.

She could not blame him or say that he had been rough or casual. His gentleness and restraint had made it worse. In trying to arouse her, he prolonged the agony.

Men had kissed her, tried to take liberties. Her first admirer was an uncle who fumbled with her clothes when she was seventeen and retreated with a slapped face.

It was easy to fend o what she did not like, because she had her reputation to consider, and a good, rich marriage as her aim. She was not ignorant. She knew all the facts and viewed them without enthusiasm or alarm. Other girls said what a man did to you was thrilling, and she accepted that it probably was, since so many people made fools of themselves because of it. Sex made the world go round. She remembered that axiom and felt sick. She slipped out of bed into the bathroom, heaving into the sink.

Nothing came up. She looked at herself in the mirror. A dishevelled, naked stranger stared back at her. Her mouth was sore. Her chin and neck irritated by his rough skin. There were red blotches on her breasts, marks all over her.

She felt dirty, sweat-stained and defiled by his emission into her body.

She plunged into the bathtub and scrubbed herself with the hot water.

He would want to do it again. And again. The two weeks' honeymoon at the Obudu Cattle Ranch in Cross River was turning into a nightmare. She remembered his apologizing that it was so short, but he had many business commitments. God, if it had been a whole month like most people took…she rubbed herself dry. The hot bath had pulled her together, she could not panic. She must not let him see how much she hated what he was pleased to call love making. It was not his fault; she kept that in view. She just did not like it. That was not so unusual. Many women 'put up' with their husbands. Some were downright glad when their husbands had affairs and stopped bothering them.

She left the towel on the floor and picked her way back through the darkness towards the bed. Her nightgown was on the ground, where he had dropped it. She put it on. The silk material felt cold, but at least she was covered. She felt protected again. He was still asleep. She curled up to get warm, careful not to make contact with him.

You will have to put up with it. I will not. You have to. You have to face the facts. He is your husband. You cannot say no. Maybe, but I can think of an excuse. I can say no sometimes, for God's sake! What am I- a piece of meat? She lay awake in the darkness until the light crept through the curtain edges.

****

Jubril found the bed empty when he woke. He sat up calling for her. Poor Anaya! He knew she had found it difficult. He wanted to make it up to her, show her that from now on it would be easier. She came out of the bathroom, wrapped in her silk nightgown.

"Anaya," he said, and started to get up and come toward her. "What have you been doing? Are you alright?"

She kept her eyes on his face. She did not want to look at him and see that the whole bloody business was starting again.

"Oh, Jubi," she said. "My Darling, I'm so sorry. I don't know how it happened, but my period just started."

He accepted the lie with grace. He loved her and argued with himself that perhaps he had expected too much. Imagining how he would teach her the pleasure of making love had excited him. There had been no pleasure for her, and he felt guilty. The guilt bought her a little time.

A few days later, he came into their chalet and took her on his knee. He stroked her breast and slid his hand in between her thighs. "Jubi," she started to say, but he kissed her and his hands went on moving over her body, pulling at her underpants to expose her. With a fierce effort, she pulled away and jumped off.

"No," she shouted. "I can't."
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He did not see the fear in her eyes. He heard the angry cry with its note of revulsion and he lost his temper.

"You can," he said. "And by God you will…" His fantasy became reality. He mastered her only because he was the stronger one. She tore at him with her nails, he did not even notice. When it was over, she wept and sobbed herself to sleep. The seduction he had planned degenerated into a furious ****, fought out by both of them.

At one moment, she had screamed at him, "I hate you…I hate you…"

When she woke the next morning, the bed was empty. She was sore and bruised. She hoped she had hurt him. Some of her nails were broken. She burst into tears. "Oh my God, what am I to do?" He had behaved like an animal, holding her down on the bed, making her submit. For a few minutes, she gave way to hysteria, weeping and throwing herself against the pillows. She could not stay in the marriage.

Slowly, Anaya grew calmer. Exhausted emotionally, she stopped crying. She could not run away. How many days had it been since her wedding? She and Jubril had played parts before the world. How could she go back and admit it was a disaster? Be whispered about and scorned, because of course the truth would come out – "She can't bear sex, you see…poor Jubril…"

She could just imagine what they would say. What a scandal!

She got up and spoke out, "No, no. I cannot face that. I don't know what I'm going to do, but I won't run away."

****

Jubril had been walking. It was a glorious day in the making, and he was unhappy. He was sadder than he had ever been in his life.

He was ashamed. Frustration and rejection had made him behave like a brute. Finding her sleeping beside him when he woke, he had been stricken with guilt. In spite of that, he did not touch her. There was no use apologizing or trying to explain. There was no going back after what happened.

Jubril recognized one inescapable fact. The girl he loved was frigid. Not inexperienced, not shy – God knows Anaya was not shy – but frigid. She was revolted by sexual love and unable to conceal it. The vibrant personality, the flirtatious provocative manner, hid a cold inhibited core that saw human intercourse as a disgusting ordeal. She had not realized it before they married; he did not doubt that. They were both taken unawares.

They could get a divorce but the real reason could not be told. Still, maybe something could be worked out…because he loved her, and despite everything, he believed Anaya had loved him.

His thoughts led him back to the door of their chalet. He hesitated before going in. Anaya was seated on the bed.

"Good morning, Jubi," she said. "I'm about to order breakfast."

"Anaya…I've been thinking…" he approached slowly.

"That's not new," she said. "Bread and tea?"

He sat down and she picked up the phone to call room service.

"Anaya, what are we going to do?"

"Do? Nothing. We are married. I'll try and adjust. Maybe I'll have plantain and eggs with a glass of juice."

"Drop that phone and talk to me, Anaya." She dropped the phone with force and smiled. She was so cold and artificial that he began to feel angry.

"I hate you," she said icily. There was no passion left in her now, not even the humanity of hatred. She had withdrawn completely. "I'm willing to make adjustments for you even though I hate myself for it. I do not want a messy divorce and I know you feel the same way too. We should be able to come to an agreement and manage just fine."

"I see," he said.

"We have made a mistake. Rather than suer the consequence, we can try and work something out."

He said in a low voice, "Anaya, you're my wife and I love you. I'm sorry about last night but that won't alter the real problem. We cannot go on as if nothing happened. I won't pretend in public and have you say no to me when we're alone."

She looked at him. Her beautiful eyes were red-rimmed under heavy make-up. For a moment, he saw her misery and it matched his own. "I won't say no to you," she said. "But that's all I can promise. Now, let me eat."

Five days later, they returned to Abuja. Anaya had kept her promise. She let him make love to her as often as he wanted, and it seemed that this only increased his desire. The more she eluded him, the more sexually infatuated with her he became. They paraded in public, at the malls, the stores, held hands, smiled and refused to admit that their marriage was a disaster.

Chapter end