Doctor Gideon’s Wife 💔.
Sandra and I continued living as house mates until she gave birth to our first child on the second year of our marriage.
The arrival of the baby even extended the distance between us This was because she became more occupied with caring for the him while I concentrated more on my hunt for beautiful women.
“Tell your mother not to bother herself coming for omugwo, I have made provision for a nurse who would be coming to help you out”.I had instructed. And just as usual, she nodded in affirmation.
Before the arrival of the baby, I had managed to complete the house I was building in a different area (because of the constant visitation of the other women) and we moved out.
“Doctor Gideon, I need some money”. She requested one morning, as I was getting ready for work.
That was strange. Ever since we got married, she hasn’t made any demand.
She never had access to money, since I work directly with vendors. All she needed to do was make a list of everything she needs around the house, I will forward them to the vendors and everything would be delivered at our doorstep.
“What do you need money for?”. I demanded.
“I don’t have clothes any more, all my clothes are worn out”. She complained.
“You don’t need clothes since you’re not going anywhere with them”.
That was the simple reply I gave her and the matter died right there.
As our son was growing, things were getting worse between us. I could be away from home for as long as two weeks without any calls from her.
One midnight, I was about having a good time with my lady in the hotel room, when the buzzing of my phone distracted. I hissed, as I reached over to it with one hand to end the call but to my utmost surprise, it was from Sandra.
Why is she calling me?, I wondered. I declined the call and it entered again, almost immediately. Before I could decide on the action to take, the lady dragged it playfully from me and flung it at the end of the bed. … .
The next morning, I saw 23 missed calls, all from Sandra…. I didn’t bother to call back, I knew I provided her with everything she needed.
As I walked into the hospital reception later that morning, the first person I sighted was Sandra. She seemed to be pleading with doctor Desmond.
What could she be doing here, I had never brought her to the hospital.
As I moved closer, I discovered I shouldn’t had. My wife was putting on rags. The collar of the shirt was slacked and the skirt was thorn.
Is this woman mad?.
“That is my husband”. She said, pointing a finger at me.
Doctor Desmond could not hide the surprise on his face. Of course, he knew I was married, so I guess he might be wondering what my wife was doing in rags.
“What is going on here?”. I asked .
“Emmanuel…he is in the emergency..no one is attending to him…no deposit made….”. Sandra was panting.
Before she could finish I took off straight to the emergency ward.
“I didn’t know it was your wife, I swear”. I heard doctor Desmond’s voice pleading from behind.
We ran into the emergency ward were my son was lying, almost lifeless.
I tried to touch him but I was weak.
“Desmond do something!”. I screamed.
I ran out again to the reception, screaming like a mad man, calling on all the nurses on duty to suspend whatever they were doing and attend to my son.
“How did this happen?”. I asked when I ran into Sandra, leaning on the wall in the reception.
“He developed high fever yesterday night, I gave him drugs, he vomited it all, with blood… I called you many times but you weren’t picking and it was already late for me to find a way to take him to the hospital….we didn’t sleep all night..he has been like that. She sobbed.
… I had to borrow money from the security man to transport us here, this morning”.
I walked up and down the hall, with my heart beating loudly. Now I know what those, whose loved ones were admitted into the hospital passed through. I almost slapped a nurse for running passed me in the hall, more than five different times without any positive news.
Sandra sat at the other end with her face buried in her palms, she seems to be lost in her thought.
I pray nothing happens to my boy… because I wont be able to live with the guilt…
Story from Joy Ifunanya’s story room.