Down the rabbit hole
Monnie
I don't even make it to my room before the tears start. One drop, then another, then a full flood. My chest tightens. My shoulders shake. I can barely breathe.
How can someone be so cruel, so inconsiderate, so unkind, so insatiable?
What satisfies men?
I plop onto the bed and yank my blanket over my head. The air under here is warm and still, but I let the tears fall anyway. I don't bother wiping them. They carry me straight back seven years, to the start of it all.
Dele used to be so thin. My friends laughed at me for choosing him. Said I was wasting my fine face and full body on a boy that looked like struggle. But I stayed. I stayed with him regardless. I fought off their negativity with positivity. I told them to look at his heart instead of his wallet. I put his beauty above his flaws. I built him up in ways even he didn't know he needed. He had nothing when we met. Nothing. My friends got gifts, romantic dates, soft life. Me? I was stuck being the understanding girlfriend. But I was fine with it. I told myself I was choosing love.
Because love matters to me more than anything. I have seen how lonely the world gets without it. I watched my mother and father drift apart year after year. Watched them forget how to speak each other's language. Watched them sit at the same table and chew silence. I tried to help. Wrote them letters. Tried to be their little therapist. I wanted to fix it. I wanted them to choose each other again. But they didn't. My mom started leaning too hard on us. It got overwhelming sometimes. I didn't know how to give her more love than I already gave. And my dad? He leaned on his friends to fill the space where romance should have been, but that could never be enough.
So when it was my turn to choose, I always chose love. Over money. Over body build. Over physical attraction. Always love. That's why I chose Dele.
But the whole time? The whole time, I was a fool.
Is this the same trap my mom fell into? My grandma too? She never enjoyed her love life either. Her husband inherited a wife from his father due to traditional rites, and even though he chose my grandma out of love, he had to split his life in two. My grandma had to fight another woman for her husband's heart until the day he died. She spent her life lonely. Hollowed out by duty. She passed that way too.
That cannot be my fate.
The women in this family have had no luck with love.
But that cannot be me.
That will not be me.
A knock pulls me out of my spiral.
"Breakfast," a tiny sing-song voice calls.
"Please leave it by the door," I say. My voice sounds hoarse. I don't want anyone to see me like this.
"All right," the voice says, but I don't hear footsteps walking away.
"Are you sure you don't want to talk?" It's Cynthia. I recognize her voice now.
"No, I'm good. Thank you," I say firmly. This time, she listens.
Once I am sure she is far away, I throw the blanket off and open the door. The tray is neatly wrapped in clear nylon. Four sausages, four puff-puffs, an omelette with veggies, tea, and four slices of toasted bread arranged in a spread like a hotel buffet.
I rip the nylon open and grab a sausage, biting into it like I am angry at it. I need the strength. I need something to fight back the wave of sadness that is trying to drown me again.
I remember Lekan's face when he saw me. That hint of pity.
Ugh. That guy will not stop annoying me.
Who needs his pity? I did not ask for it. He feels superior because he is some kind of billionaire. How big of a deal could he be? I had never even heard of him until the girls started gossiping about him. He walks around like life has not touched him. Like he is better than all of us because he does not have relationship trauma.
"I came here to take a break. I'm not hurt. Blah blah blah."
Who does he think he is?
I hiss and chug the tea. It is lukewarm now. Probably from the long distance between the kitchen and my villa.
Lekan's tea is probably still hot. Of course it is. His villa is close to the kitchen.
Lucky douchebag.
I take another sausage, this time pairing it with puff-puff. I leave the bread for later, in case I get hungry again.
After finishing my breakfast, I unzip my suitcase and pull out my sky blue MacBook.
"Hi baby," I whisper, kissing it before perching on the edge of the bed. I turn it on and go straight to Microsoft Word.
There is no service. No Google. No blog access.
I wonder what people would be saying about me right now. Probably some rubbish.
"Even rich women get cheated on"
"Even with skin like milk, they still cheated on her"
"Big ass and titties don't guarantee loyalty"
"Moni's probably loose and doesn't get wet. I mean, Lekan did say that girl is better than her"
I grit my teeth and slam the keyboard with my fingers.
*DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE.*
When little Alice went down the rabbit hole, nothing could have prepared her for the things she saw...
I stare out the window, trying to gather my thoughts. My job is travel blogging and destination marketing. That is what I am supposed to write about. That is what pays me. That is what I am known for. But my heart is in a completely different place. The conflict between my mind and my heart is giving me a creative block. I sigh and drop the laptop on the bedside table.
I know something that can help.
Mortal Kombat.
I unzip the little black bag that holds my gamepad, connect it to my laptop, load the game, and pick Raiden as my character. I do not hold back. With all the rage I have for Dele, I finish off every mechanical character that dares to fight me. One by one. Boom. Bam. K.O.
Twenty minutes later, I let out a yawn and sign off. The tension in my chest has eased a little.
In my dream, Dele has the horn of a rhinoceros. But I do not even care. I am all smiles. I kiss him. I hug him. We go shopping. We book a flight together. It feels perfect. But then, just as we get to the airport, his horn grows longer. His eyes turn cold. He looks evil. He charges at me like an animal.
And in that moment, I understand something I had not let myself admit before.
This version of Dele? This beast?
I helped shape him by refusing to see him clearly.
I kept loving the dream and ignoring the damage.
I made excuses for betrayal and wrapped it in understanding.
I told myself I was choosing love when I was really choosing fear.
Just before he collides into me, I wake up, gasping, shaking, but clearer than I have felt in weeks.
The room is warmer now. The sun is high. I check the time. It is 5pm.
I pull myself up and head to the bathroom. I let the water run over my body, washing off the dream, the sweat, the tears. When I step out, I throw on a v-neck flowery gown, keep my accessories simple, gloss my lips, and step out of my room.
I do not have a plan. I do not want one. I just need to breathe. See new things. Let the earth distract me.
I walk for five minutes before I see a pointer that says "Cable Cars to the Ranch." I follow it. I do not ask questions. I just move.
Soon, I am in the sky, on a cable car, heading toward the ranch. No goal. No direction. No map.
Just me.
Letting the wind take me wherever it pleases.