I stood there with my arms folded. I knew I had hit below the belt. I knew I had twisted something innocent just to deflect. But what else could I have said? What answer could I have given that wouldn’t expose my hand?
22
Kairo
I walked into the office and Kemi swiveled around in her chair so fast like I’d broke in. She hurried and pressed pause on whatever YouTube vlog she had playing on her phone.
“Uh… what are you doing here?” she asked, eyebrows raised. “You’re off today.”
I grabbed the chair across from her desk and pulled it closer, sitting down.
“I needed to get away from the house before I snapped.” What’s wrong now?”
I rubbed both hands down my face. “You know how I been saying that shit just feels different?”
She nodded slowly. “Yeah. And I told you not to overthink it.”
“I’m not overthinking,” I said, shaking my head. “I know my wife.”
“We’ve been friends since we were kids and started dating at fifteen. I know what her silence means. I know what herlaugh means. I know what her tone means when she’s hiding something and when she’s just irritated.”
“She can walk in a room and not say a word, and I know if something is wrong,” I continued. “And something is wrong.”
She tilted her head slightly. “Like what?”
“She’s… somewhere else,” I said, trying to explain the feeling. “Physically she’s there, but it’s like her spirit isn’t in the room with me.”
Kemi leaned back in her chair.
“She doesn’t touch me the same,” I went on. “She doesn't look at me the same. When I talk, she’s listening but she is not hearing me. And when I try to bring it up, she deflects or gets defensive.”
“My wife isn’t my wife right now.”
Kemi sighed softly. “Okay. I’m not dismissing you,” she said carefully. “You do know her. And you’ve been with her longer than most people stay married.”
“Exactly.”
“But,” she added, holding up a finger, “stress changes people too. Planning a big event. Parenting a teenage girl. Things stack up.”
“I get that,” I said. “But this ain’t just stress.”
“What does your gut say?” she asked.
“My gut says she’s pulling away.”
“Pulling away how?”
“I don’t know, shit,” I admitted, frustrated. “That’s the part that’s driving me crazy. It’s like I can feel it but I can’t prove it.”
She folded her arms on the desk.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s say something is off. What are you going to do? Accuse her? Go through her phone? Start moving funny?”
“No,” I said immediately.
“Then breathe,” she replied. “You chasing a feeling is how you create the very thing you’re scared of.”
Before I could respond, my phone started ringing.
