Black Is Harmless

Chidi's birthday was in a couple of days—Thursday, to be exact, and this Thursday would be unlike any other day. It had to be. I was a healthcare worker, but I was taking the week off for him. Chidi had somehow nursed an unusual apprehension that he wouldn't live above thirty-two. I'd never really taken him up on the discussion for fear of reassuring him, but he would be thirty-three on Thursday and that was something.

Despite the conflicting thoughts, I was present in the kitchen, at the table where I was preparing breakfast. I added three cubes of sugar, stirred his cup of tea for the thirty-first time, carefully stirred one more and let a smile work its length across my face.

I have no idea why, but with every stir, I muttered a prayer: You saw your tenth year, you will see your eleventh. You saw your eleventh, you will see your twelfth, and it went on like that.

"Aku!" Chidi said, walking into the kitchen. "Why has the tea taken so long?"

I quickly stirred the last and handed it to him. "I'm sorry, dear."

As he collected it, I wondered how proper it would have been to have brought it to him as he sat in bed. He looked at the tea and crinkled his brows, outlining furrows on his forehead.

He set it down on a saucer with his eyes still fixed on it. He raised his head. "Where's yours?" The question didn't seem like one of romantic concern, and I could see his molars quietly grinding at his jawline.

"Is something wrong, honey?"

He closed the gap between us. "I asked, where...is...your...tea?!"

I trembled a little and pointed to an empty mug beside me. "That's...that's what I was about preparing."

Chidi had a whelming presence that was accentuated by his hefty build. He turned his neck backwards, grabbed his cup and handed it to me. "Drink." I shook my head in distress. I reminded Chidi that I was sugar intolerant and that I had put some cubes in his tea. He shoved it roughly to my lips, clinking my teeth against the rim of the cup. "Drink!" He barked.

I was becoming teary. I pleaded one more time and came very close to what might have been a deafening slap. From the kitchen wares, I could see that my eyes had turned bloodshot, but he didn't seem to care. I stood up and took the cup from his hand. I walked to the first-aid box beside the cabinet and brought out an EpiPen. My eyes began experiencing burning sensations as I cried. I turned to look at him before I gulped the cup of tea. Steadying my hand, I aimed the EpiPen at my thigh.

Chidi walked to where I sat on the floor but I didn't look up. "I'm sorry, Akunne. I...i...i—" "You thought I would kill you?" I felt the dizziness tossing my brain lightly and the nape of my neck was getting itchy. In a swift plunge, I injected myself, sending the neurotransmitter through my body. I let out a scream as my muscles twitched.

"I'm sor—" he paused and sat beside me.

A part of me wanted to yell and serve him a shot, too, but I held myself, literally; to avoid an impulsive reaction. He sat quietly for a minute or two before he began in a tempered tone:

"When I was much younger, I was very mischievous and headstrong. I remember very vividly that it was also a Thursday morning when I stole my mother's purse—the treasury of the village women. I couldn't spend all the money and so I gave some of it to my mother's youngest brother, my uncle. He was roughly older than me by five years. When my mother discovered what I had done, she had a heart attack. I thought she was pulling an act to bring me closer so she could get a hold of me and spank the hell out of me; hence, I danced from afar saying I wouldn't come any closer—"

The pain in my thigh had subsided and I wanted to hear his story. I always wanted to—he never spoke of it. I turned my face to him and sighed downwards. "After she had been on the ground for some minutes, I ran up to her and heard her say in a coarse slur: 'You won't see the breaking of day any more than I have.' She was thirty when she made that statement."

I quickly looked at him again. "I know, Aku, but I fear that it might happen this Thursday. This is the first time my birthday is going to be on a Thursday since I turned thirty." I stood up from where I sat. That wasn't enough reason for him to put me in the throes of death.

I arranged my dress and was about to leave when he held my hand and drew me to himself (a gesture I was determinedly trying to avoid). I posed a resistance, but it felt like struggling to yank your cloth that had been caught by a nail lodged in a fence—you are the only one making the frantic pulls. He dragged me to where he sat on the floor.

He appeared to be hedging me in. He found his way to my lips and as he touched them gently, I turned away. "Not this time, Chidi." I stood up, again, had my bath and got into my scrubs. I even had a mastectomy to perform and here I was trying to please this—. I don't need to let you in on more than that. It's our family business.

The next day was a Tuesday and I had a change of mind and decided to go to the market and get groceries for Thursday. Wednesday was Independence Day. The clouds were a deep grey and threatened to let out their content on the earth with their occasional growls. I boarded a taxi to and from the market. Luckily, we arrived a few minutes before the downpour started. Getting back, I realized I had to deal with a worsened ordeal. "Why is it raining, Aku? Why?" Chidi said, rushing to me as I dropped the hampers on the kitchen table.

"I don't understand. How would I know?"

"Aku, this is a bad sign."

I didn't bother convincing him otherwise. Whether he was right or not, we would find out. I brought out the onion bulbs and laid them carefully in baskets while he went on reading ominous meanings to everything. He even said one of the onion bulbs reminded him of his mother's forehead.

"Chidi, I'm really tired. Let me just make effective use of my leave and get my head together." I endured more of this as it grew until Wednesday night. As he began his mania, I sat up on the bed and yelled his name in his ear. "If you will die this night, can your panicking stop it? If you ask me, I would want to spend the last hours before my death in a night of peaceful sleep, don't you think so?"

He became less frantic and slowly wore a philosophical look. "You are right, Aku... You are right. You see why I love you?" I smiled and withdrew beneath the duvet. I had to be up early enough to prepare the cake. Tomorrow was going to be eventful. Indeed, it was. When the alarm clock rang, I opened my eyes in shock. I could swear I only slept for a minute and a half. How was it morning?

"Guess who is a year older?" Chidi said with a smile on his face as he was walking out of the bathroom. He slipped a little and I yelled, "Careful!" He regained his balance, shuffled his feet to the bed and slid into the duvet. We made out before I went to bake the cake.

While I was at it. I prepared a cup of green tea for him and served him in bed. The sky outside had a gentle blue painted all over its surface, and the morning sun radiated a soft glow. "I love you, Aku." He said as he sipped. I collected the cup and slurped a mouthful. "I love you, too, honey. Happy birthday." I blew him a kiss and returned to the kitchen. That was the last time I served my husband tea. After baking the cake, I was surprised that he didn't even come to the kitchen with his romantic intrusions. I ran back to the room and found him under the duvet, with the sheets neatly tucked. He wore a bright smile, but he had no pulse. I let out a tear and sat beside him. I brought his face to my lap and caressed his lifeless cheeks. "We'll meet again someday."

My efforts to keep back the tears soon proved useless as the trickle grew into a stream. At his funeral, I met his dad and we engaged in a short conversation about Chidi's mother. "She was a bright woman in her early thirties. It's sad that I lost both of them in their prime." "How old was she when she died?" Without mincing words, he replied: "She was thirty-four." My pupils dilated. I walked to the front where Chidi's casket was placed on a white table, holding a cup of green tea. I ran my fingers over the wood column and took a seat beside the coffin. The dark clouds were gathering, but this time, I wasn't running.

You fear black when you don't know that blue can also take a life.